Essay: The Hidden Fortress (1958)
Kurosawa's action classic has comedy, pathos, samurai fights, chase scenes -- and surprising moments of spirituality
In this film set during the warring clans period of Japanese history, when feudal warlords fought each other for territory and influence, the Yamana clan has just defeated the forces of Akizuki. The first half hour of the film belongs to two peasants, Tahei and Matashichi, who have gone to the war not to take sides but to rob dead soldiers on the battlefield and sell the booty. But they are swept up by the winning army, which assumes they were on the losing side, and together with hundreds of other prisoners are put to work digging through the ruins of the burned-out Akizuki castle. Next, having gotten away from there, the two find themselves in thrall to a mysterious samurai, Rokurota Makabe (Tohiro Mifune). He, along with two elderly retainers and a beautiful young princess (Misa Uehara), comprises all that is left of the defeated Akizuki clan. Together, they must disguise themselves as peasants and cross enemy territory to reach the safety of a neutral territory which has offered them asylum as long as they bring their gold with them.
If you aren’t a film student or a samauri movie fan, you might have heard of this movie because of George Lucas, who used elements of “The Hidden Fortress” in the first “Star Wars” movie. The character of the fleeing princess translates directly to that of Carrie Fisher’s Princess Leia. And the two scabby, bickering peasants, one of them tall, the other short? None other than C3PO and R2D2.

Watching “The Hidden Fortress” and recognizing the hapless peasants as the inspiration for the robots in “Star Wars” is one of the delights of seeing this movie, but far from the only one. Kurosawa’s film is so strong in every respect that almost any viewer who isn’t a Lucas fanatic will quickly forget to watch for parallels between the films and enjoy “The Hidden Fortress” for its own pleasures, and they are many. The actors portraying Tahei and Matashichi are funny throughout, partly through slapstick and physical humor and partly because they are invariably petty, selfish, greedy, and cowardly. The sweeping action sequences are brilliantly directed and edited, including one set in that burned castle in which hundreds of slaves riot and overpower their guards, stampeding down a stone stairway in a dramatic fashion that Sergei Eisenstein could only dream of. Serious film students still study Kurosawa’s compositions of actors and other elements in a frame.
An even more stirring sequence takes place a little past the middle of the film. The princess and her protective samurai have had to turn their regal bearing way down in order to pass as simple peasants hauling firewood — sticks in which her clan’s gold is hidden so that it can buy their safety when they make it to allied territory. They join many other firewood haulers also on the road, then realize that everyone is going not to a market to sell their wood but a “fire festival” where it will all go up in smoke. No sooner do they arrive at the festival than acolytes seize their wood and throw it into the huge bonfire, around which a crowd is rowdily dancing and singing.
The princess, who has never in her sheltered life been permitted to witness such a thing as a peasant festival, joins in with gusto. The song’s lyrics are fatalistic, asserting that human life is as fleeting as an insect’s that is thrown into the fire. It continues: “Ponder and you’ll see: the world is dark, and this floating world is a dream.” At the end of the film, when their party has been captured and is facing execution, she recalls the song, singing it to give herself courage in the face of death. Thus her character’s struggle becomes ennobled.
There is so much fun to be had watching this movie; it’s both brilliant and so enjoyable you’ll forget you’re watching a great classic of world cinema. Only later, when you find that the film’s characters and images have taken up residence in your memory, do you realize how truly great it is.