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'I Live in Fear' has always been one of Kurosawa's lesser-known films. Why? Because it is one of his weaker efforts? No, because it is his most pessimistic. Kurosawa was a humanist. His protagonists usually find some form of redemption, despite the hardship they have gone through (see "Ikiru" or "Dodes'ka-den"). Not so with "I Live in Fear".

Toshirô Mifune plays a Lear-like industrialist (double his actual age, amazingly) who is tormented by the thought of nuclear annihilation. Over the course of the film, he becomes increasingly paranoid, dragging the people around him with down in his misery.

This fear of nuclear warfare was obviously widespread in post-war Japan, and Kurosawa does not offer an antidote to people's fears. In fact, this is his only film that seemingly offers no hope for humanity. It moves like a downward spiral, ending with one of cinema's most devastating final shots.

That lack of catharsis may be what damned "I Live in Fear" to the lower echelons of Kurosawa rankings. And certainly, it will not leave you as fulfilled as, say, "Rashômon" or "High and Low" would, but that alone doesn't make it an inferior film. Seek it out. It is a harrowing watch.

Few films have inspired as much critical folderol as "Journey to Italy". Godard considered it a masterpiece, which is always a cause for worry; he had a sharp eye for directing technique, but not so much for storytelling. "Journey to Italy" reflects this defect, and cannot be called a masterpiece without caveat.

The title is certainly accurate. We follow Alex (George Sanders) and Katherine Joyce (Ingrid Bergman) on a journey through Italy, on their way to sell a mansion Alex' uncle left him, and enjoy some time together.

Their marriage is unhappy. We gather as much from the opening scene, when Alex requests that he drives instead of Katherine. Why so? To keep him awake, he says. Clearly, that's not the whole truth. He may think lowly of her driving skills. Or maybe he can't abide her being in control. Or is he really just bored? It's hard to tell with a sarcast like Sanders.

Katherine feels uncomfortable too, but doesn't call her husband out directly. 'It didn't occur to me that it'd be so boring for you to be alone with me,' she says instead. 'What's that got to do with it? I'm just bored because I've got nothing to do,' Alex replies. Neither is saying what they wanted to say.

That is "Journey to Italy" in a nutshell. Alex and Katherine's marriage could be saved if ever the two were honest with each other, but their emotional defences block every attempt. The tragedy is not that the two don't see what is happening. The tragedy is that they do, and fail to change their ways. Once living with a person for a certain period to time, one cannot suddenly play straight. Alex and Katherine are stuck in vicious circle they have created for themselves.

Rosselini is partially successful in portraying this tragedy. The parts that play out like the above scene have been rightly praised for their bold, elusive storytelling. The best scenes are those in which nothing of apparent notice happens: Katherine takes three tourist tours (set to foreboding music); Alex goes to a party and fails to enjoy himself. What goes on in their heads is left to guess. Antonioni was undoubtedly inspired by "Journey to Italy" when he employed the same technique in his Trilogy ("L'avventura", "La notte", "L'eclisse") -- to greater effect.

Comparison between the directors shows where Rosselini falls short. Note how Antonioni always stays on the surface. He complements the superficial quibbles of his characters with crystal-clear images, and leaves digging to his viewers. Rossellini, meanwhile, wavers. One scene, his characters speak in those natural and shrouded sentences. The next, they indulge in syrupy Hollywood platitudes, or worse: voice-over narration, to directly tell the audience how they feel. The script feels schizophrenic, possibly reflecting its two screenwriters. It is bold and elusive as often as safe and uninvolving.

As such, "Journey to Italy" can only be recommended with reservations. That certain critics fail to provide these is a serious fault. Imagine the Michelin Guide awarding a restaurant three stars despite part of their dishes being undercooked. To appreciate "Journey to Italy", one must seek out the well-done bits.

Akira Kurosawa's "Drunken Angel" is a film in two parts -- first an atmospheric social drama that stands with the director's best work; second a gangster story as they come a dime a dozen. A good thing the better half will draw you in.

Japan, 1947. The Empire has lost the War and American culture is spreading like wildfire. Jazz, whisky, and slick suits have invaded the traditional streetview. It is summer, and hot. You can almost smell the town -- hardly more than a slum, inhabited by ill and crooked people. Amidst them, the alcoholic doctor Sanada (Takashi Shimura) is trying to root out tuberculosis.

One evening, Sanada is visited by a wounded gangster named Matsunaga (Toshirô Mifune, in his first of sixteen collaborations with Kurosawa). Sanada bandages his wounds, but sees there is more at hand. He diagnosis Matsunaga with tuberculosis. If he doesn't seek treatment, he will die. The gangster is too proud to admit he is scared, and leaves. But Sanada does not give up easily. He becomes set on curing Matsunaga, hoping to convince him to change his ways.

The counterpoint between these leads is what drives "Drunken Angel". As Matsunaga, Mifune practically established the 'violent but troubled yakuza' stereotype. The range of emotions he manages to convey is remarkable, especially considering this was only his fourth ever film role. But it is Sanada who stands out most. He is the 'drunken angel', blessed with both unflinching altruism and at least a dozen bad habits. He drinks and swears, throws glass bottles when he is angry. He could have been a rich practitioner if he hadn't been so honest with his patients. 'I've killed more men than you,' he yells at Matsunaga.

The scenes establishing Sanada's routine are the most captivating part of the film. Kurosawa shows his growing artistic maturity with slight touches. Note how he keeps the same landmarks in the background of his long shots, often from different angels, to create a unity of place and stress the spirals in which his story moves.

The film begins to struggle in its second half, once focus shifts to the local gang life. Matsunaga's old boss returns from prison, friction arises in the hierarchy, love causes the usual troubles... Run-of-the-mill material, lacking Kurosawa's trademark humanism, done better elsewhere. Trading in the Dostoevskian slum drama for slick jazz clubs and stiff action (no sign whatsoever that Kurosawa would direct "Seven Samurai" six years later) was a mistake.

Small surprise, then, to discover that "Drunken Angel" was originally all about Sanada, and Kurosawa decided to increase Matsunaga's part after being impressed with Mifune. Yes, Mifune was a great actor, but had Kurosawa decided to 'kill his darlings' and kept the story close to Sanada, "Drunken Angel" might have been his first great film. As is, the reputation of 'fine early Kurosawa' is deservedly modest.