In this section of our Colossus Movie Guide for Rashomon, we will explain the film’s ending.
Cast
- Takashi Shimura – Kikori, The Woodcutter
- Minoru Chiaki – Tabi Hōshi, The Priest
- Kichijiro Ueda – The Commoner
- Toshiro Mifune – Tajōmaru, The Bandit
- Machiko Kyō – The Wife
- Masayuki Mori – The Samurai
- Noriko Honma – Miko, The Medium
- Daisuke Katō – Houben, The Policeman
- Shinobu Hashimoto – Writer
- Akira Kurosawa – Writer and director
The end of Rashomon explained
Recap
The narrative at the heart of Rashomon reaches a poignant crescendo when the Woodcutter, the Priest, and the Commoner are drawn from their discourse by the sound of an infant’s cry. Upon investigating, they discover an infant, forsaken and alone, nestled within a basket, its only possessions a kimono and a guardian amulet. Succumbing to temptation, the Commoner seizes both the kimono and the amulet.
Rebuking the Commoner for his heartless theft from a helpless child, the Woodcutter attempts to intervene. However, the Commoner is not so easily swayed, standing his ground and retaliating with an accusation. He surmises that the Woodcutter’s silence during the court proceedings stems from his guilt—he had made off with the dagger, a valuable piece of evidence. The Commoner, disillusioned with humanity, leaves the scene, maintaining his conviction that every individual is primarily driven by self-interest.
During this conflict, the Priest has been trying to comfort the distraught infant. Once the Commoner makes his exit, the Woodcutter steps forward to take the baby into his care. The Priest, shaken by the day’s events and now doubting humanity’s goodness, reacts in alarm. The Woodcutter then divulges his intention to adopt the child, already being a father to six of his own. This new piece of information paints the Woodcutter’s narrative in a different light and manages to restore the Priest’s dwindling faith in humanity.
As the Woodcutter gets ready to leave, cradling the baby tenderly, the sky clears, and the rain makes way for sunlight.
Meaning
The ending of Rashomon is very symbolic. After four different testimonies that observe the very nature of truth and its subjectivity, we are left with three individuals—the Priest, the Woodcutter, and the Commoner—who are left to question the complex nature of humanity. Their actions at the end of the movie reflect a multifaceted view of society and what pushes us towards light or darkness. In the end, Kurosawa leaves us with an optimistic view, a hopeful observation that humanity can always be redeemed.
The innocence of a child
The appearance of the baby in Rashomon‘s conclusion serves as a profound embodiment of innocence, casting a poignant light on the other characters’ actions and beliefs. Amidst the maelstrom of self-interest, deceit, and moral ambiguity, this innocent life introduces an element of purity and hope. It’s an emblem of the innate goodness that lies beneath the complex tapestry of human nature.
The baby’s innocence starkly contrasts with the other characters, accentuating their flaws and moral complexities. The Commoner, the Priest, and the Woodcutter each react differently to the abandoned child, and these reactions reveal their core principles and convictions. The Commoner, who sees the world through a survivalist lens, views the child’s possessions as objects for his taking, reinforcing his view that the world is driven by self-interest. The Priest, on the other hand, is overwhelmed by the injustices he has witnessed and is initially resistant to the Woodcutter’s attempts to care for the baby.
The Woodcutter’s decision to adopt the baby, however, introduces a glimmer of hope and optimism in Rashomon. Despite his previous actions and the accusations hurled at him, his choice to care for the abandoned child highlights his capability for empathy and altruism. This single act of kindness challenges the film’s predominantly pessimistic perspective, reminding us that human beings are capable of selflessness and compassion.
In essence, the baby’s innocence acts as a mirror, reflecting the characters’ inherent virtues and vices. It unveils the cynical worldviews held by some, the shaken faith of others, and the capacity for empathy and generosity that can persist in spite of societal pressures and personal flaws. The presence of the baby, in its vulnerability and innocence, invites an examination of our shared humanity, nudging the audience to consider the inherent goodness that exists alongside our flaws. It’s a poignant reminder that even in a world often marred by self-interest and deceit, there is room for hope, compassion, and redemption.
The dagger’s important symbolic presence
The dagger serves as a critical motif throughout Rashomon, embodying various elements of truth, power, and deception, and evolving in meaning with each testimony. It’s an item that’s both concrete and symbolic, shifting its connotation according to the narratives spun by the characters.
In the first three testimonies—by the Bandit, the Wife, and through the Medium, the Samurai—the dagger is presented as a weapon, an instrument of death. Its interpretation varies in each story, reflecting the shifting power dynamics and moral perspectives of the characters. For the Bandit, the dagger represents conquest and power, while for the Wife, it embodies fear, victimhood, and eventually a weapon of self-defense. In the Samurai’s version, it becomes an instrument of his own death, underscoring his perceived loss of honor.
However, with the Woodcutter’s testimony, the dagger’s significance changes. It’s no longer an instrument of death but becomes an object of value, a prize coveted by the characters. This shift signifies the Woodcutter’s detached perspective, viewing the events not as an emotional drama, but as an outsider interested in the material worth of the dagger.
The Commoner’s accusation that the Woodcutter stole the dagger throws a new light on this motif. The dagger, in this context, symbolizes deceit and the human propensity to distort the truth for personal gain. Just as the characters manipulate their narratives for self-preservation, the Woodcutter, accused of stealing the dagger, presumably distorts his testimony to maintain his self-image.
By remaining silent during the initial three testimonies, the Woodcutter protects his self-image, reflecting the societal pressure to appear honorable, even if it involves distorting or suppressing the truth. His desire to protect his reputation correlates with the testimonies shared during the trial where each character manipulated the truth to cast themselves in a favorable light. The Woodcutter’s silence and the Commoner’s accusation are both indicative of the subjectivity of truth—the idea that truth can be malleable and altered according to one’s perspective or self-interest.
The Commoner’s accusation invites the audience to reconsider all the narratives shared earlier in the film, thereby enhancing the film’s theme of subjective truth. Just as the Bandit, the Wife, and the Samurai all tell different versions of the event, the Commoner presents yet another perspective—that the Woodcutter, who initially seemed an impartial observer, has his own version of truth, obscured by his own motivations.
The Woodcutter’s redemption
The Woodcutter’s redemption at the end of Rashomon stands as a powerful counterpoint to the film’s pervasive atmosphere of deceit and selfishness. His decision to adopt the child not only reveals an unexpected capacity for altruism but also introduces a sense of hope into a narrative steeped in cynicism, ultimately presenting a complex view of human nature.
Throughout the film, the characters have manipulated the truth, acting primarily out of self-interest. However, when confronted with the baby’s innocence, the Woodcutter makes a selfless choice. His decision to adopt the child serves as a redeeming act that challenges the film’s bleak portrayal of human nature. It introduces the possibility that even in a world shadowed by deceit, compassion and altruism can thrive. This act of kindness, stark in contrast to his earlier silence on the theft of the dagger, highlights the complexity of human nature. It suggests that individuals are capable of both selfishness and kindness, deceit and honesty, thereby presenting a more nuanced view of humanity.
Kurosawa leaves the audience with an optimistic note by showcasing the Woodcutter’s redemption. It suggests the possibility of change and the potential for goodness in even seemingly self-serving individuals. The Woodcutter’s act of compassion challenges the narrative of relentless self-interest, suggesting that individuals are not bound by their past actions and can choose to act selflessly.
The Rashomon city gate, a recurrent motif throughout the film, takes on a new meaning during this moment of redemption. It has previously been portrayed as a symbol of decay and despair, reflecting the moral ambiguity of the characters’ stories. However, as the Woodcutter leaves through the gate with the baby, it becomes a passageway to a new beginning, a symbol of hope and redemption. The gate, once a symbol of societal decay, now frames the Woodcutter’s departure into a future that promises a chance at renewal and the cultivation of virtue.
The emergence of sunlight
The final scene, where the rain subsides and the clouds give way to sunlight, carries deep symbolic significance. It coincides with the Woodcutter’s act of kindness, suggesting a renewal of faith in human nature. The sunlight, breaking through the gloom, signifies hope and redemption, indicating that despite humanity’s propensity for self-interest and deception, there is also a capacity for altruism and goodness.
Sunlight serves as a recurring motif in Rashomon, playing a vital role in the film’s exploration of truth and human nature. Its symbolism evolves as the narrative unfolds, reflecting changes in mood, perceptions, and revelations.
In the trial scenes, sunlight is often obscured, aligning with the nature of the testimonies being presented—clouded, altered, and difficult to discern. Much like the elusive truth the characters grapple with, the sunlight during the trial is often hidden or diffused, suggesting the obscured and subjective nature of truth.
During the stories, the sunlight penetrates the forest in sharp, angular beams, creating a stark, dramatic ambiance. It represents the blinding self-interest and the subjective versions of truth each character presents. The inconsistent lighting emphasizes the distortions and manipulations of the narrative, reflecting the conflict between appearance and reality. It becomes an element of visual storytelling that communicates the tensions and contradictions in the characters’ accounts.
At the end of the movie, the emergence of sunlight after a torrential downpour represents a shift in the narrative’s atmosphere and the characters’ state of mind. It correlates with the Woodcutter’s decision to adopt the baby, signifying a moment of redemption, hope, and newfound clarity. In this context, sunlight transforms from a symbol of distorted truth and selfishness to a symbol of optimism, change, and a possible return to moral integrity.
The sunlight, coming after the storm, also suggests the cyclical nature of life—the alternation of dark and light periods, despair and hope, lies and truth. The radiant sunlight that illuminates the Rashomon city gate as the Woodcutter leaves with the baby serves to reinforce the film’s closing note of optimism. It underlines the possibility of redemption and the potential for kindness, even amidst a world steeped in deceit and self-interest.
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