DERSU UZALA: Akira Kurosawa's Allegorical Autobiography
DERSU UZALAIn contrast to such titles as Rashomon and Seven Samurai, Dersu Uzala has never been widely acknowledged within the wider cultural consciousness as a film Akira Kurosawa is known for. However, it is arguably the most important of his entire decade-spanning catalogue. It is, however, appreciated predominantly by other filmmakers and cineastes rather than general audiences despite winning the Academy Award for Best Foreign Film for 1975.
It was Kurosawa’s first film to be successfully completed outside Japan and the only one shot on 70mm. It is remembered for its gruelling production, owing to Kurosawa’s insistence with relying on natural light and adherence to changing seasons – an approach a modern audience may also associate with Alejandro González Iñárritu-directed The Revenant. Additionally, Dersu Uzala is often singled out as Kurosawa’s long-gestating passion project, one that almost got away. He was able to use it to channel his anxieties concerning the impending environmental catastrophe, one which was engendered by both ceaseless human conquest and condemnation from centuries of colonialism. This perhaps indirectly led the entire world to brink of annihilation in the twentieth century.
Interestingly though, while the circumstances of this film’s production have generated a considerable discourse over the years, very little thought has been put into illuminating the possible reasons as to why. It is known Kurosawa always dreamt about adapting Vladimir Arsenyev’s memoir but – due to understandable geopolitical considerations – he would not be able to shoot in the Soviet Union where he felt the film had to be made. However, investigating why Kurosawa felt drawn to this story in the first place is even more intriguing. After all, it was an obscure publication known mostly to aficionados of Russian literature, Kurosawa among them.
It is possible Kurosawa found subconscious kinship with the titular character of Dersu Uzala, a Nanai hunter who lived at the turn of the century in the wilderness of the Ussuri region of Siberia. Petite in stature yet hardy in character, Uzala led a mostly solitary life after losing his entire family to smallpox. He did not seek a career, monetary riches or any luxuries but rather found harmonious serenity in the natural world. He roamed the forests and lived off their bountiful resources until he crossed paths with a team of Russian surveyors led by Arsenyev, the author of the book. A lifelong friendship began between the two men, fortified by numerous instances when they would save one another’s lives.
Maybe it isn’t too far-fetched to project Uzala’s life alongside his relationship with Arsenyev onto Kurosawa’s own life experiences, as there are several points of veritable symmetry between the two. Kurosawa’s career was initially propelled by grief after losing a brother. Additionally, his journey as a filmmaker could be compared to Uzala’s life roaming the untamed wilderness, during which he was not guided by the pursuit of success or widespread recognition, but rather by the pursuit of perfection. The two men – Kurosawa and Uzala - were bound together by a symmetrical aspiration to keep their heads down, focus on their craft and organically achieve excellence instead of chasing after short-lived success.
Thus, just as Uzala was a master marksman and a pathfinder tuned into the heartbeat of the natural world, Kurosawa developed a similar relationship with the vocation of his choosing: cinema. And – analogous to Uzala who stumbled across Arsenyev and eventually ended up living in the civilized world – Kurosawa was tempted by Hollywood and somehow deviated from his path. The historical record shows this departure was completely unsuccessful, as Kurosawa could not find his footing in America working to an unfamiliar rhythm; he was shooting from unfinished scripts, having his vision altered by other people and dealing with larger-than-life characters.
This is mirrored perfectly in the latter parts of the film where Uzala is trapped within four walls of Arsenyev’s house like a caged wild animal because his failing eyesight, which he believed was nature’s way of punishing him for shooting a tiger, ruined any hope of continuing his life as a hunter. However, knowing perfectly well that he would likely perish without the ability to fend for himself or hunt, Uzala chose to take his chances in the wilderness rather than continue living a vegetative existence in captivity, even though he knew his decision would break Arsenyev’s heart. He chose to live free and die.
The allegorical symmetry between Dersu Uzala’s life and Kurosawa’s romantic but ultimately toxic relationship with Hollywood – while speculative – is utterly fascinating, especially when the circumstances of how Dersu Uzala became a movie are brought back to the table. Kurosawa left the ‘civilized world’ of Hollywood, where he clearly did not belong, and poured his soul into making what became his biggest failure, Dodes’ka-den. He was disappointed with an indifferent reaction on behalf of Japanese viewers. Additionally, mirroring Uzala, he may have viewed his struggle with deteriorating eyesight as a sign he had lost his way. Eventually, he tried to take his own life. He hit rock bottom. But whereas the real Uzala perished in the wilderness, allegedly killed by someone who fancied the rifle Arsenyev had given him, Kurosawa lived. One could suggest he was brought back from the brink by Dersu Uzala’s spirit who reminded him of the pursuit he had abandoned. Maybe he whispered into Kurosawa’s ear that great films need to be made for the right reasons and, only when he detached from the desires of the outside world, would he be able to attune to cinema’s pulse once more.
Therefore, Dersu Uzala is Akira Kurosawa’s most important movie, not because it is a technical feat of strength, but rather because it is a testament to the filmmaker’s fortitude. It is a perfect example of the interconnectedness of life and art and is maybe the most personal of all his works. Even though he had dreamt of making Dersu Uzala for many years, Kurosawa had to first live the life he did to be able to do it with honesty, flair and respect. Without succumbing to temptations of Hollywood, betraying his own code and brushing shoulders with death, he would have never been able to fully internalize this story. He needed to figuratively ‘become’ Dersu Uzala to earn the right to adapt his life into this timeless pinnacle of filmmaking that – now more than ever – needs to be remembered and appreciated.
