Best known for his samurai films, director Akira Kurusawa also made some fine crime films. One of his best is 1963’s Tengoku to jigoku, in Japanese, or High and Low, in America. Kurosawa loved western cinema, often taking his cues from the Hollywood western and film noir. Elements of the American western are readily apparent in The Seven Samurai (1954), Yojimbo (1961), and Sanjuro (1962). Drunken Angel (1948), Stray Dog (1949), and High and Low were clearly influenced by American detective stories and film noir. Despite Kurusawa’s western influences, his films were frequently critical of tactless American influences on traditional Japanese culture. Though Kurusawa was perhaps the most Westernized of Japanese filmmakers of his generation, was anything but glib about the trend toward Americanization in Japan. High and Low highlights the director’s concern with the conflict between business practices and Japanese ethics.

High and LowBased on the novel King’s Ransom by Ed McBain, the film opens in the living room of Kingo Gondo (Toshirô Mifune), a wealthy executive for National Shoes of Japan. Visited by three corporate thugs who wish to launch a hostile corporate takeover, Gondo listens carefully as they spew greed and deception. Instead of wilting, Gondo sends the group packing, stunning his traditional wife Reiko (Kyôko Kagawa) and loyal secretary Kawanishi (Tatsuya Mihashi). After speaking with a mysterious person on the phone, Gondo confesses he plans to buy the company himself, having secretly acquired stock over the last few years.

Another ringing phone changes everything, delivering the devastating news that his chauffeur’s son has been kidnapped; apparently mistaken for Gondo’s own son. Paying the incredibly large ransom will ruin him financially; not paying it will ruin him as a human being. Gondo’s anguish plays against the backdrop of financial intrigue and a more conventional police thriller, as Kurosawa delves into the cops’ massive effort to track the kidnaper, led by the sensitive, but briskly ruthless, Detective Tokura (Tatsuya Nakadai).

As Gondo struggles with his choice, the film takes on tremendous emotional depth. Gondo is forced to decide between the life of an innocent boy and devotion to an abstract code. At the same time, Kurosawa alludes to a more general conflict in Japanese life—the conflict between personal values and the rigid desire for commercial success. The motive behind the crime remains vague throughout Inspector Tokura’s intricate investigation, even when Gondo decides to pay the ransom and ensure the child’s safety. But there are numerous references to class division cluing the viewer in on a shared resentment toward wealthier Japanese. The high-angle position of Gondo’s house becomes a symbol for this anger, and even one of the policemen calls it “repulsive.” We don’t stay in the “high” angled buildings that denote power and wealth. Kurosawa and his fellow screenwriters go “low” to focus on the blue collar perspective of the detectives as they pursue the kidnapper.

As Gondo,Toshirô Mifune puts his character through a cycle of vast emotions. He shows Gondo’s tremendous ambition, while giving him an undeniable humanity. There’s a particularly poignant moment in which the ruined executive, taking a stroll at night, stops in front of a shoe store window to inspect the merchandise.  In that instant, handled in an understated way, you see how money, position and power aren’t everything for Gondo—in the end, the guy just loves the art of shoes.

As Detective Tokura, Tatsuya Nakadai moves through scenes in a series of narrow-lapelled G-man suits. Suave and decisive, Tokura is a guy who will get his man in the end. The supporting cast is uniformly impressive, with standout performances from Tatsuya Mihashi as an groveling, double-talking aide and Kenjiro Ishiyama as a bald-headed detective whom Kurosawa skillfully employs for comic relief.

As we’ve come to expect, Criterion’s transfer is near perfect. While there are a couple of scratches on the print, black levels are inky throughout, contrast is wonderfully maintained, details are superb, and grain is handled evenly. This is a true upgrade from Criterion’s earlier DVD release.

The film has a DTS-HD presentation of its original Prospecta 4.0 mix here, and it’s ideal. Dialogue is clear, music is lovely, and the film’s odd sound design really works: On occasion, it draws attention to itself, but that’s part of what makes the film experience so absorbing.

English SDH subtitles are included.

We get the following special features:






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