The Quiet Duel

I find Akira Kurasawa to be not just the Master of Japanese cinema but also one of the all-time great directors. The Silent Duel is not one of the finest examples of why I think that, I do think it could've been longer and I did feel that the narrative while having a great idea and having some very moving moments especially in the final act has some clumsy patches. However, it is delicately directed and is made absolutely beautifully with well-compositioned cinematography and striking scenery. The score has a haunting sense of coolness, while the acting is excellent. Toshiro Mifune would give more remarkable performances in other Kurosawa films with characters more multi-layered than here, however he does play noble very well. Takashi Shimura would later give one of the most heartbreaking performances in all of film in Ikiru, but gives a likewise commanding performance. Norika Serigoku is also wonderful, her character is annoying at first but you do warm to her later on, and Serigoku where self-absorbed or touching does convey those characteristics very well. In a nutshell, Kurosawa has done better in my view, but I found much still to be impressed about. 8/10 Bethany Cox

The Quiet Duel features Mifune's second role for Kurosawa, as a young doctor who contracts syphilis from operating on a patient in WWII South Pacific. This alone constitutes the opening and perhaps most riveting sequence of the film. In the little shack where the operation take place, effects of irritation and discomfort hit a high note with the leaking roof, pestering flies, and assaulting humidity. This shabby condition breaks Mifune's concentration and leads him to cut himself in the patient's infected blood. There is much beautiful play of light and shadow across the virginal white uniforms of the doctors.

When Mifune goes back to his father's (Takashi Shimura) medical practice in Japan after the war, the film staggers in cajoling our empathy for the hero's incredulous dilemma: How to protect his fiancee - whom he has kept waiting for six years during the war - from the syphilis he contracted abroad, yet to be honest with himself and his own physical desires. The movie strives to be the tragic love story of a sexually unfulfilled man, an Unjustifiably Tainted Virgin who pains in silence. He is so saintly that his self-denial (abstinence) inspires a single mother (Noriko Sengoku) to become a certified nurse. Despite relatively good performance from the actors, the story of a saintly individual done wrong by a disease that is symbolically social restricts itself to melodramatic proportions.

Thankfully, there is a subplot involving the patient, aka the agent of Doctor Mifune's syphilis. As irresponsible (and promiscuous) as he is, he gives syphilis to his own wife and this ends ups killing their first born. The wife is a victim in the sense that Mifune contracted his disease, and much of Kurosawa's famed humanism involves the wife's recovery from her stillborn and the promise of her eventually ridding syphilis.

This film was made just after several labor strikes broke out at Toho, Kurosawa's home studio. The strikes had devastating effects on the unity and creative synergy of film talents in Japan then, and Kurosawa made this '49 film under Daiei-- with a relatively inexperienced production unit and using a contemporary stageplay that would not alienate moviegoers. The result is vastly uneven, aside from the fantastic opening that is classic Kurosawa. Further, this film continues the cultivation of a Kurosawa-obsession: that of a saintly doctor who, despite his own faults, tries to be his most honest with the world. This can be first seen in Drunken Angel's Dr. Sanada, and later - most memorably - in Red Beard's Akahige/Dr.Niide.

An admonitory melodrama movingly sustained by splendid acting. Toshiro Mifune would later play a different sort of strong and silent character (John Wayne's an unworthy comparison). Here the silence is pulled inward, the head often drooped, the silence a wish not to offend. No wonder it's like the female characters are pounding on the door of this tall, handsome man when he cannot open himself to them. He's doing noble work as a physician, and fortunately the sombre story is sometimes lightened with patients grateful for cure, as it is in a way by his irresponsible double with whom he shares a probably incurable infection. Well set-up scenes often beautifully photographed, like the detail of rainwater dripping into a pan during a wartime jungle operation, coming after the surgeon has asked the patient's pulse to be monitored.

A film that touches on several sensitive subjects, most notably sexual desire and STD's. The "quiet duel" is one a young doctor (Toshiro Mifune) has with his conscience. During a messy operation in a field hospital while Japan is at war, he contracts syphilis by accidentally cutting himself and then getting exposed to a patient's blood. He comes home to a woman he loves (Miki Sanjo) but knows he shouldn't risk infecting her, so he resists a marriage they both want. He meets the man who inadvertently infected him and finds that he's recklessly gotten married and expecting to be a father, so through the two men, we can see how the honorable and dishonorable sides play out.

I love the women characters in this film, starting with Sanjo who has some fine moments in the grief of her longing, but even more so, Noriko Sengoku, who plays an apprentice nurse. She had come to the clinic (run by the doctor's father, also a doctor, and played by Takashi Shimura) in a crisis of her own, having been left by her adulterous husband, and pregnant. We don't see it in a flashback, but learn that she was suicidal and helped out by the doctor, so she now works there. In one fantastic moment, she chides a cop who sometimes drops by and tells him he knows nothing about what it means to have a baby as a man. My understanding is that her character was softened relative to the original play (The Abortion Doctor, by Kazuo Kikuta), and one of the unfortunate changes was that while the topic of abortion is broached, the character doesn't get one here, and in fact it's moralized against. Regardless, Sengoku turns in a strong performance for a character that has spunk as well as a soft side. The scene where she offers herself to Mifune to alleviate his brewing sexual desire is excellent. Lastly, the syphilitic soldier's wife is played by Chieko Nakakita, and here, too, we see glimpses of a woman's perspective in marriage.

I can't help but think the infection symbolizes something larger for many of the young men of Japan, who undoubtedly were trying to be honorable, good people but were then swept up into war. Many had their lives ruined by it, and many carried shame with them in the aftermath. That gives the film an interesting extra dimension, and there is no one better than Mifune to communicate the torture of these feelings. The film is a little slow at times but because of the context, the female characters, the immortal Toshiro Mifune, and how it addressed taboo subjects as best it could under American censors, I liked it.

One rarely, if ever goes wrong watching a film directed by Akira Kurosawa and starring Toshirô Mifune, even if it one of the early ones. In this film, however, the star is not Mifune, but the man who plays his father, Takashi Shimura, destined to achieve greater fame in Ikiru, and The Seven Samurai.

Mifune comes back from the war with Syphilis, a disease he contracted during an operation. He must make drastic changes in his life starting with his finance of six years, Miki Sanjo. He finds the man who gave him the disease, and spends his energy trying to get him to stop spreading it, horrified that he has a pregnant wife.

Noriko Sengoku (Stray Dog, Drunken Angel, Blind Beast) plays a self-absorbed nurse trainee and provides comedy to an otherwise depressing film. She transforms after having a baby she didn't want, and after learning of Mifune's plight. She is a talented performer in this film showing many facets.