What ‘Seven Samurai’ Has to Teach Working Class People in An Era of Trumpism
Theatrical poster for 1954’s classic “Seven Samurai.”
By Joe Maniscalco
The 70th anniversary rerelease of Akira Kurosawa’s classic “Seven Samurai” in newly restored 4K opens on the supine occupants of a 16th century village in civil war-torn Japan literally groveling in the mud as a mounted band of homicidal bandits assembled on a high ridge hungrily surveys the scene below.
It is a pathetic display of utter powerlessness and despair with the lowly farmers, knowing full well that the heavily-armored murderers will soon be back again next harvest season to finish their campaign of plunder, openly contemplate mass suicide.
They lament the depths of their unheeded pain and suffering, teetering on the brink of insanity. They lash out and bicker wildly amongst themselves about what they could possibly do next. If not suicide, than what? Really go mad? Debase themselves even further and hope for the best? No, they decide—there are children to think about. Maybe they could appeal to the local magistrate for help? They’re taxpayers, after all. No, that idea is quickly shot down, too. Certainly, the feckless magistrate could offer zero help.
What then? What? How can the villagers protect themselves when they are completely and totally powerless in the face of such a vast and looming threat?
Seven decades on, and worlds away from the era in which it was made, this scene is "Seven Samurai” is the perfect analog for the collective despair many working class Americans are experiencing right now as they gravely anticipate the crowning of King Donald I in the fall, and a dangerous new era of neofascist idiocracy sweeping across the land.
But look closer at what transpires—as powerless as those Japanese villagers Kurosawa and his co-writers conceived of 70 years ago, may have appeared—they actually have something very valuable, indeed, to teach everyone living outside the Neo-confederate camp. They teach us how to rise up and overcome the threat.
What happens immediately after that harrowing opening scene in “Seven Samurai” is very telling. Kurosawa could have just had the heroic samurai suddenly appear in the village and declare, “Don’t worry, everyone! My good-natured buddies and I are here—and we’re gonna help you kind and generous people defeat those bad guys.”
However, that’s not what happens at all. [This isn’t a corporatized Marvel movie bastardizing the genius of Jack Kirby’s superheroes]. Although completely defenseless, downtrodden and alone, the villagers in the “Seven Samurai’ simply refuse to accept their seeming fate unchallenged.
Instead, they turn away from despair, and continue to look inwardly in imperfect solidarity for the answer—eventually deciding together to visit the village elder for further consultation. And wouldn’t you know it? Given the man’s advanced age and experience, he tells them that a group of badass samurai hired to repel the bloodthirsty band of marauding bandits preying on their small village could actually get everyone out of the mess they’re in. He knows this, of course, because he’d actually seen this kind of thing happen many, many years before.
But even then, it’s not a slam-dunk for the hapless farm folk. The villagers still must use their collective strength, talents, and determination to not only find the right guys for the job—they also have to actually convince them to take on the mission. Initially, the samurai the villagers first approach want nothing to do with them and couldn’t care less about their plight.
No one here is handing the villagers anything. No one is riding in on a white horse and saving them. That’s not what’s happening. The villagers are banding together and making it happen themselves, among themselves, by way of their own indomitable spirit.
Once deciding to lift themselves out of the mud, the villagers—these very humble and flawed human beings—no matter how ill-prepared or unequipped they may be for the challenge at hand, remain on the offensive and on the move. They become the agents of their own liberation. Never are they spectators.
They learn how to protect and fortify their homes against attack, and do the hard work of making those bulwarks a reality. They build and create. They study and train hard with the seven samurai until they become a potent enough force to make the depraved bandits soon wish they’d had found another line of work.
They fight back. And, spoiler alert, they win. Handily.
Working class people in America can win, too. The parallels between civil war-era Japan and the present-day United States are, to say the least, disturbing. Today, too many working class Americans unable to see a doctor or keep a decent roof over their heads feels doomed and downtrodden, too.
But it would be far better to refuse to fret about those parallels too much. Akira Kurosawa and the creative collaborators who brought “Seven Samurai” to life 70 years ago, have left us an enduring reminder about the vast reservoirs of untapped power residing in the hearts of working class people everywhere—no matter how beaten down and powerless we may, at first, appear to be.