One of the checklist items for the DVD Talk Criterion Challenge is to watch a Criterion DVD in its entirety. I freely admit, what put <I>The Hidden Fortress</I> to the top of the list of Criterion releases I wanted to consume so thoroughly was its inclusion of the video interview with George Lucas. I almost feel bad about that, embarrassed and a bit resentful that my being a fan of <I>Star Wars</I> should make me so pliable. Yet, Criterion clearly counted on that; the relationship between this film and Lucas's flagship franchise is plastered all over this release, from the inclusion of the aforementioned video to an outright declaration of its influence in the DVD synopsis. I figure if they're willing to pander to <I>Star Wars</I> fanboys, I can meet them halfway and allow them to pander.

By the end of the first scene, I had already cottoned onto the most obvious parallel: the peasants (reincarnated as the droids, R2-D2 and C-3PO). I kind of enjoyed wondering whether R2 was bleeped because he was saying to 3PO some of what Tahei and Matashichi say to one another throughout the film. Of course, then we get to the scene where the two pick straws to see which one will leave and which will get a chance to sexually assault the sleeping princess and I found myself irrevocably disgusted by the pair of them for the duration of the film. I know it was played for laughs and to remind us how base the two are, but I just could not forgive them that.

Wipe transitional edits also stood out as a common element. There were the shots of enemy forces gathering in the trees with an odd horn sounding (borrowed for both <I>Return of the Jedi</I> and <I>The Phantom Menace</I>). And, of course, the whole idea of the princess hiding behind decoys was recycled in <I>The Phantom Menace</I>, as noted by Armond White in his 2001 <a href=http://www.criterion.com/current/posts/117-the-hidden-fortress>essay</a>. Still, I wasn't trying to keep score of similarities between <I>The Hidden Fortress</I> and <I>Star Wars</I>; I was trying to enjoy and appreciate <I>The Hidden Fortress</I> for what it is.

I did appreciate the grand, old-school adventurousness of the story. It's great fun. As David Ehrenstein notes in his 1987 <a href=http://www.criterion.com/current/posts/837-the-hidden-fortress>essay</a>: "Overall, there’s a sense of sheer 'movieness' to <I>The Hidden Fortress</I> that places it plainly in the ranks of such grand adventure entertainments as <I>Gunga Din</I>, <I>The Thief of Baghdad</I>, and Fritz Lang’s celebrated diptych <I>The Tiger of Eschnapur</I> and <I>The Hindu Tomb</I>." This is a very kinetic film that moves at a brisk clip from start to finish. The premise is ultimately that this is a sort of "road" picture, and the key to such films is to keep things moving. That generally means one setback after another to befall our protagonists, and that's precisely what <I>The Hidden Fortress</I> offers.

Outside of the aforementioned peasants, I did like the three other principals. We quickly accept Rokurota as a bad-ass, knowing that this is not a guy to be underestimated or crossed...and secretly, we hope someone is fool enough to make him demonstrate why. I particularly enjoyed his relationship with Hyoe Tadokoro: adversarial, but bonded through mutual respect. I've always been a sucker for those kinds of relationships in stories, where people are able to connect with one another despite the schism of allegiances and causes, etc., between them. Hyoe's eventual defection was obvious, but triumphant all the same.

Princess Yuki's exasperation at Japanese stoicism and fealty to her and the class system is surprising, and also humanizing. Yet, there's something about the always-angry performance of Misa Uehara that's entirely incongruous with the character. Yes, I get it; she was raised to be masculine and she lacks the softness of femininity. Just the same, there is a surprising lack of subtlety to her anger and forcefulness that prevents me from fully accepting Yuki as a developed character.

There was greater room in the story to develop the character of the farmer's daughter, rescued from slavery by the princess (by way of Rokurota). Of course, her role in the film is obvious: the loyalty she shows the princess is earned, not instructed. She represents the kind of relationship between sovereign and subject that Yuki can respect and appreciate, a stark contrast between the mindlessness she accuses Rokurota and others of according her.

Yet, even though she's there facing execution with the princess in the end, I find myself disappointed that we don't get a sense of her fate once they've safely reached Akizuki. (Or, if we do, I missed it because I had to yell at the cats.)

Of course, I also come to the film with virtually no meaningful exposure to Japanese culture or cinema. I did study Japan in a cursory fashion years ago when I took a course on East Asian history & politics, so I have a sense of the basics but it's certainly a blind spot for me.

<B>DVD Bonus Features</B>

Lucas on Kurosawa (8:08)

This was, of course, the big draw for me. It's actually perfect: in eight minutes, Lucas emphasizes that <I>The Hidden Fortress</I> isn't his favorite Kurosawa film, or even in his top four, and that the only thing he really borrowed from it for <I>Star Wars</I> was the point-of-view of the peasants/droids. Lucas acknowledges the parallel of escorting a princess through enemy territory, but quickly dismisses it as more coincidence, noting that his princess, Leia, "is much more of a stand-and-fight" character than is Yuki. Leave it to Lucas to take a lot of hype and quash it.

Original Theatrical Trailer (3:47)

An alright trailer, I suppose, though I confess I'm not sure seeing it would have necessarily made me any more eager to see the film. Trailers are really difficult to appraise this far removed from their original era. I did catch where the subtitles misspelled "couldn't" as "coudn't" at one point. That made me cringe.

. I find it difficult to blame Margaret for being fooled by the same scam twice when I fell for it as well, despite being warned repeatedly by Mantegna's character that we can't trust him or that world.

Even late in the film when she shows generosity to both her stripper neighbor and her husband's mistress, she does so with a coldness that suggests that while she acknowledges she can't cut herself off completely from the world, it doesn't mean she has to like it.