Tsurumaru: A Historical Connection Between Japan and China 

Yilan Zhao 

In 1975, the Japanese director Akira Kurosawa (1910-1998) began to write the script for his testament film, Ran. The plot of this film is based on Shakespeare’s tragic play, King Lear. King Lear’s basic storyline tells how an old king is deceived by his two elder daughters’ flattering remarks and becomes arrogant and oblivious to his youngest daughter and his loyal servant who actually care about him. The whole tragedy focuses on the relationship between father and children, and how greed can destroy every bond within the family. However, Kurosawa did not simply do an exact adaption of the play, he completely shifted the scenes to the Sengoku period in Japan, and made some changes to the characters according to his imagination of the story. In brief, there are three main differences between Ran and King Lear. The first difference is that the three daughters of King Lear become three sons of the warlord, Hidetora. A warlord during the Sengoku period was a samurai who gains political power with military forces. The Sengoku period is known in Japanese history as the reigning of warlords. However, one should not regard a warlord as a member of the highest class. Essentially, a warlord belongs to the class of samurai, and the highest class is the emperor. Secondly, in Ran, fate does not dominate the ending of a person. In Japanese culture, people’s future will be decided based by their deeds. Lastly, the ideas in King Lear are mostly preserved. But the film has many battle scenes which entail some implications about Japanese culture. My task, in this essay, is to unveil the moral and political subtext in Kurosawa’s Ran, which can be achieved by looking into the blind character Tsurumaru. Tsurumaru is the brother of Lady Sue, who is the wife of Hidetora’s second son. Their family was invaded by Hidetora when Tsurumaru was still a boy. All of his family members were killed, except his sister and him. In order to prevent Tsurumaru from seeking revenge for his family, Hidetora gouged out his eyes and let him live as a miserable blind man.  

After watching Ran, my mind keeps recollecting the last scene. As described by Michael Wilmington, “Tsurumaru in the film’s terrifying last image, is seen teetering on the edge of a cliff, and an abyss, a bloodied sunset flaming behind him.” This scene is left hanging in the air, because we do not know the final ending of Tsurumaru. In this sense, Kurosawa created a legendary ending by “trusting his audience”, as Sidney Lumet puts it in an interview about Ran. Kurosawa himself once said that, “I am not trying to teach or convey a particular message, because the audience does not like it. I think that I have made them aware of problems without having to learn about them consciously” (Cineaste 23-24). Therefore, the “problems” that Kurosawa mentions are intended to be applicable, or at least relevant, to the audience. In what way does Kurosawa make the connection between Tsurumaru and the public audience? Although the film does not present a clear answer, to a certain degree, Kurosawa uses Tsurumaru’s appearance and speech to implicitly criticize the “essential evil in human nature” that is so prominent in the history of Japan (Cineaste 23). Hence, in this essay, I will closely examine Tsurumaru’s appearance and speech, which have many possible connections with the traditional Japanese Noh theatre, the Japanese folklore “Tsuru no Ongaeshi”, and the Taoist and Confucian philosophies.  

The first scene of Tsurumaru happens in a valley where he resides alone. His place is being “embraced by the mountain.” But, it is merely a wretched straw hut. However, “there is something tragic about the scene, as if a resplendent dress had been discarded” (Script 121). Tango and Kyoami (Hidetora’s servant and fool) are looking for a place to let the insane Hidetora rest. They find Tsurumaru’s hut, so Tango knocks on Tsurumaru’s door . But, Tsurumaru is reluctant to receive anyone. Tango breaks into the hut and puts Hidetora on the floor. He asks the host for a blanket to cover him. So, the host slowly rises up in order to get a blanket. He walks with such small steps, just like a well-behaved woman. He pulls out a cloth and carefully folds it. While he is doing this, Hidetora comes to his senses and starts to complain about his sons' betrayal. At that moment, Tsurumaru realizes that the man who is speaking in his hut right now is the warlord who destroyed his family and gouged out his eyes when he was a boy. Tsurumaru suddenly drops the clothing he was holding because of his grudge towards Hidetora. Tango sees his action and shouts to him, “speak up…woman!” Tsurumaru replies to him with an innocent and deep voice, “I am not a woman” (Script 122). Tango realizes his mistake and asks for some light because he cannot see very well in the dark room. Tsurumaru answers to him that he does not have a light; and also, he needs none. Then, Tango perceives that he is speaking to a blind man. So, he stops inquiring and lights a stick in the firewood. While laying out the cloth for Hidetora, the beautiful color of the cloth draws Tango’s attention, so he looks at it closely. To his surprise, he sees crane prints on the cloth. Then, he turns to examine Tsurumaru’s face. With a shock, he recognizes that face as Lady Sue’s blind brother. 

There is much to say about this particular scene. First of all, one must know that the crane is a symbol of Tsurumaru, because "Tsuru" means crane in Japanese. But, in the film, the crane represents much more than just the name of Tsurumaru. In this scene, Tsurumaru wears a long white dress and a short-sleeved kimono, his shoulder-length black hair hangs down on the white garment. This appearance looks similar to the crane to a great extent. Would this be an indication of Tsurumaru’s personal status? The crane is a very highly-esteemed animal in Asia. It is a symbol for the longevity of life. A virtuous and elegant person would also be described as a crane in Taoism. But first, one must consider the film script’s account of this look. The script uses the phrase “in the style of temple acolytes” to describe Tsurumaru’s long hair (122). Why would he have long hair if he was never a temple acolyte? His long white dress and hairstyle are the kind of costume a crane would wear in the Noh play, “Tsuru Kame.” In “Tsruru Kame,” the tsuru (crane) and the kame (tortoise) dance for the emperor as a celebration for his longevity (Noh Plays DataBase). More significantly, the crane is a female character in this play. So, Tsurumaru’s dress also implies the feminism of the crane. In the film, Tsurumaru is the only male character who wears a female-style dress. There is no practical reason for him to dress like a woman, unless Kurosawa wants to make some connections between Tsurumaru and the idea of longevity that is embedded in the symbol of the crane. As the only survivor among the aristocratic men and women in the film, Tsurumaru’s crane appearance can be interpreted as a clue to the final tragic episode, which secretly tells the informed audience that he will be the one who lives to the end. Bearing that in mind, one must take into account the last word of the script, “wretchedness” (193B). So after all, Kurosawa rejects the traditional, positive view of longevity that is symbolized by the crane. Longevity is not an ideal thing for a human like Tsurumaru. In the end, he has lost every force of support in his life. Living longer can only bring him more suffering. 

As I mentioned above, Tsurumaru is the only man in the film who wears a female costume, which is not a mistake but rather entails some noteworthy meanings. To support the argument of feminism in Tsurumaru, one should also examine the color of his cloths and his speech. In the hut scene, he is dressed in black and white, a perfect symbolization of Yin Yang in Taoism. Yin Yang is the concept of two opposite things existing in harmony, like moon and sun, woman and man, earth and sky (BBC Religions). The symbol of Yin Yang is a round circle with the colors black and white. White represents Yang and black represents Yin. So, Tsurumaru can be seen as a nice combination of Yin and Yang. Now, referring back to the words from Tsurumaru—when Tango asks for some light, he replies that he does not have a light because he does not need light. This reply is significant when one considers the concept of Yin Yang. Tsurumaru is actually saying that he does not need the Yang part since light has the quality of Yang. In this case, one can also interpret the objection of Yang as the objection of masculinity because Tango calls Tsurumaru a woman when he sees the way he moves and dresses. This tells us that there is a great sense of Yin in Tsurumaru's movement and in his appearance. So, why would Kurosawa create a personality that is unbalanced with its symbolic meaning? The answer probably lies in the title of the film, Ran. Ran means chaos in Japanese. With this one word, Kurosawa puts the essential quality of every character into it. The great principle of Yin Yang may be too high for this humanly world because chaos dominates people all the time. As Kurosawa once wrote, “do not fear the chaotic, do not fear the irrational. In them you’ll find a mysterious force that runs through heaven and earth, through life itself.” Therefore, Tsurumaru's speech and appearance are intentionally conflicting with each other in order to pick out the director's reflection on Ran (chaos).  

Tsurumaru's other connection with the crane comes from the popular folktale “Tsuru no Ongaeshi.” In this folktale, a trapped crane is saved in the forest by an old man. Years after, the crane disguises itself as a beautiful girl and knocks on the door of the old man who lives with his wife. The crane intends to stay with the old couple to take good care of them because they have no children. She begins to weave clothes with her own feather in order to make money for the household. Although she gets weaker and weaker due to loss of feathers, she keeps doing so to repay the favor of the old man (Wikipedia). In a sense, Tsurumaru has the virtuous quality like the crane in “Tsuru no Ongaeshi.” From inspecting his actions in the hut scene with Hidetora, it appears he always speaks with a restrained, low voice and keeps himself composed in front of his family’s enemy. In the end, he says, “I am terribly sorry that I cannot give you a decent welcome, Great Lord. However, fortunately I have a flute that sister sent to me. I learned to play it when I was a child. I will play it for you and give you, if nothing else, some hospitality of the heart” (Script 122). Even after the silent grudge he has towards Hidetora, he does not forget to be courteous, which shows a great deal about his elegant and virtuous personality that is often associated with the crane 

Meanwhile, Tsurumaru’s exemplary virtue is a sign of Ru, the teaching of Confucius. The word “Ru” literally refers to weaklings. It was a reference to scholars who tended to work with their minds rather than their bodies and were, as a result, perceived as being weaker (Tucker). However, scholars of Ru were not weak in the sense of a coward. On the contrary, they were psychologically persuasive and assured. The “weak” simply refers to the opposition towards violent force. In Confucian teachings, the importance of virtue is stressed the most. One who can live virtuously will be praised as a “Junzi" (in English, Junzi simply means a nobleman or gentleman), signifying a high status of morality (Xiong 4-5). Tsurumaru’s presence in this scene should be connected with the idea of Confucius, because his resentment of violence and strict code of virtue all represent the essence of Ru.  

Finally, Tsurumaru’s style of life highlights such a strong resemblance to the Xian in Taoism. A Xian, in Taoism, is a person who is enlightened and achieves spiritual immortality and longevity of life. The status of Xian can be achieved by human beings according to the doctrine of Taoism. As a Chinese character, the word “Xian” is written with two parts, one part as human and the other part as mountain. Referring back to the place where Tsurumaru lives, his hut is being "embraced by the mountain," which exactly matches the description of the word Xian. Not just that, when one listens carefully to the background sound of the hut scene, the flowing sound of water in a brook can be heard with the calm singing of crickets. This typical combination of water, mountains, and a human being cannot be a mere coincidence. They are the key elements in many Xian myths, especially in the story of Han Xiang Zi who is one of the Eight Immortals in Taoism. The Eight Immortals are well-known deities in Chinese history. Each one of the Eight has a magic weapon and certain divine ability to help the people in a way that a normal human being could not achieve. However, most of them were ordinary humans who became divine later in their lives. Because of their unique individual connections with the common people, many mythical stories about them have been told. Han Xiang Zi is one of the most popular deities among the Eight. According to the New World Encyclopedia, Han Xiang Zi is most often associated with a bamboo flute and mountains, and people worship him as the "patron of musicians.” His insistency on seeking otherworldly life leads to his departure from the well-planned future his brother, Han Yu, had envisioned for him. He turns to live with mountains and his bamboo flute. Later on, he becomes a disciple of Lu Dong Bin, the most famous Immortal of the Eight. Eventually, he transcends to a Xian and enjoys a life without worries. Han Xiang Zi's story stresses the importance of individual cultivation and the raison d'être of Taoist religion, which is to get away from worldly matters and seek enlightenment. But, looking at the situation of Tsurumaru, one might say that he consciously refuses to seek the otherworldly state. His environment is ideal for cultivating inner spirituality. But, he detests that because when his sister departs to fetch his flute, he pleads with her, "sister, I do not want to be alone again"(Script 170). After so many years in the mountains, he yearns to be with someone. Besides, his flute is not doing him any good. When he tries to entertain Hidetora with his music, the effect is totally the opposite. His profound grief penetrates through the sound of the flute, and drives Hidetora into a terrifying state. Later on, when he and his sister are fleeing, Tsurumaru suddenly remembers he left the flute in the hut. Lady Sue's servant goes back to look for it. The servant does not come back after a long time, so Lady Sue leaves Tsurumaru to find the servant and the flute. This also leads to her death. So, in an ironic sense, the flute becomes the weapon of Tsurumaru. But unlike the magic weapons of the Eight Immortals, his flute only brings misery. Therefore, every aspect of the Xian that was expected to be desirable, turns into wretchedness in Tsurumaru's case.  

Now, the question is why should Confucianism and Taoism have such an important role in Kurosawa’s Ran. The Buddhist influence is obvious with Lady Sue’s Amida Buddha scroll image and Buddha script in the first castle, but the Confucian and Taoist ideas are more implicit. Interestingly, these three religions/philosophies have historical links in Japanese lexicon. Matsunaga Sekigo's (1592-1657) Irinshô (Selected Writings on Ethics, 1640), begins by saying, “Between heaven and earth, there are three major ways: the Confucian, which is the way of Confucius; the Buddhist, which is the way of Shakyamuni; and the Daoist, which is the way of Laozi” (Tucker). Since Confucianism and Taoism are absolutely Chinese philosophies, one can conclude that Kurosawa is showing the deep-rooted Chinese influence in Japanese culture. More specifically, as Inazo Nitobé writes in his book Bushido, the Soul of Japan, the “three major ways” are key components in the foundation of Bushido. Bushido is a term used to describe the moral and social standard of a samurai, which gradually formed over a span of centuries. A samurai uses his life to defend his lord. It is his duty to be loyal and brave. However, being a samurai of the Sengoku period involved excessive killing, because if the lord wanted to gain more land by annihilating a household of people who ruled the land, the samurais were obliged to fight for their lord. The integration of religions in Bushido is almost the same thing as Tsurumaru, the crane, in a world of killing. Religion cannot exercise its power once weapons are being used. Just as Kurosawa puts it in a conversation with Garcia Marquez, “the trouble is that when the shooting starts, even Christ and the angels turn into military chiefs of staff.” 

Although the story in Ran is not a contemporary one, Kurosawa intentionally designed the “problems” of the story to be applicable to the audience as I have pointed out in the second paragraph. It is clear that the criticism of war in Ran applies to the atrocities of World War II, especially to the militarism of Japan during the twentieth century. In the case of my research, the Chinese philosophical elements embodied on Tsurumaru and his wretched ending may indicate the Japanese invasion in China during World War II. China as a country seldom attacks other nation’s territory due to its penetrating Confucian influence in politics. But, Japan hardly ceased to bombard Chinese territory, from 1874 to the end of World War II, especially after the Manchurian crisis. [In 1931, the Japanese army entered northeastern China and established the puppet state of Manchukuo. This incident is called the Manchurian crisis in the history of World War II.] Japanese troops deployed farther into the Chinese soil, used Chemical weapons on civilians, and forced numerous women to have sexual intercourse with the Japanese soldiers. A massive massacre is carried out in Nanjing, with a huge number of people being buried alive (Zang). Japanese soldiers’ undeniable war crimes are of the utmost atrocious in human history. But shockingly enough, the Japanese government has not yet admitted these cruel actions and still owes an apology to the Chinese people. This attitude of disregarding one’s committed crimes is so apparent in Ran, with Hidetora being the best example. He destroyed Tsurumaru’s family, but he never said a word of apology to either Tsurumaru or Lady Sue. The unjustified treatment of Tsurumaru is exactly the equivalent of China. If one saw Tsurumaru as the representative of Chinese philosophies, then the rest of the people who are fighting in the film are the representatives of Bushido. Japan tried to swallow China in order to become a bigger country, just like its attempt to mix Confucianism and Taoism into Bushido to make the act of killing look more decent. The military aspect will absolutely fail the philosophical intent. Ran and real-life history prove to us that killing and virtue cannot exist at the same time.  

When Kurosawa writes a film script, he does not put his criticism of the government in a straight-forward way so that the script can pass the inspection of the film executives (Cineaste, 24). Therefore, it is more likely for a director to make that kind of criticism less explicit. The political statement, relating to the Japanese invasion in Ran, is one that is not being talked about in Japan, which is a plausible reason for making the statement understandable only after in-depth analysis and research. Therefore, when one deals with a director as knowledgeable and philosophical as Kurosawa, one must consider every detail in the film in order to gain a better sense of interpretation. Furthermore, the generation of which Kurosawa belongs to witnessed a series of wars and turmoil in the world, and those events must have influenced his personal life and his works. Hence, one should always take into account the background information when analyzing Kurosawa’s films. It is just like how a good pianist would deal with the classical compositions. That is, to get acquainted with the historical period of the compositions before leading to a thorough understanding of the composer’s intention in the music. 

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