PEOPLE IN PRINT

Toshiro Mifune

On Shogun, I also had the honor of working with Toshiro Mifune, Japan�s biggest movie star and arguably one of the greatest actors of all time. As an ardent fan of foreign films in the 1950s, I had seen director Akira Kurosawa�s The Seven Samurai and Rashomon, starring that man-leopard, Mifune. I had been frightened and dazzled by his physical and spiritual power. At our first meeting prior to filming Shogun, I approached Mifune-san with awe and caution, but found him unexpectedly reserved and a bit shy. In a blue blazer and gray slacks, Mifune-san pretended to speak little English, but I suspect he understood a great deal.

Mifune, who played Lord Toranaga, was a gentle man off camera. But in costume, particularly as a samurai, he became a force of nature, like a tsunami that rises up out of the sea and imposes its will on everything in its path. Before a scene, a savage, low growl would often emanate from Mifune, rumbling from him like distant thunder. Neither I nor anyone else dared to go near him on the set, except in the line of duty.

But this great man was full of surprises. One day during our lunch break, he saw me hiding a Japanese coin in the rafters of the set ceiling. Mifune was overcome with laughter, saying I was �pure Japanese,� preferring to keep my money under the mattress rather than in a bank. I laughed, too. It was a small but intimate moment in which, however briefly, we both left the veneer of courtesy and discretion behind.

Another time, on an outdoor set, Mifune noticed that my straw sandals were not tied correctly and so he got down on his knees and retied them himself. It was like having your shoes shined by God because status is extremely important to the Japanese - they secure and maintain their position with great care and pride - and at the time of Shogun Mifune-san was at the very pinnacle of his career. I was touched by that gesture.

One day, we were shooting a climactic scene in which Toranaga calls together all his various warlords and their armies in preparation for a great battle. The outdoor set was a huge arena, enclosed by a wall of gorgeous cloth banners that surrounded a dais, where Toranaga was to address the warriors. Blackthorne, [Chamberlain] having become Toranaga�s most trusted samurai, was seated on the edge of the dais watching the majestic arrival of each army and awaiting the final entrance of Toranaga himself. The long scene was to be shot from a high tower at the far corner of the set. Jerry London, our director, yelled �Action!� and the lords and their armies marched in with tremendous dignity. After the hundreds of soldiers were in place, Toranaga was to ride in on horseback, dismount, and approach the dais.

Well, there were were, all in place. And no Toranaga. After what seemed like history�s longest pause, I heard the sound of hoofbeats charging unimaginably hard and fast. Then Mifune, who had said earlier that he was rather frightened of horses, shot into the vast arena like lightning, heading straight for the dais and straight for me. He was galloping faster than any stunt man I�d ever seen in my life. I thought to myself, �Mifune has lost control of his mighty steed and in about half a second, I�ll be trampled to death by the rampaging pair.� Then, like pure magic, Mifune and his stampeding horse stopped right on their mark. Almost too quickly to see, Mifune dismounted and was striding toward me, as if he�d just appeared out of thin air. Thank God we didn�t have any dialogue until the next shot, because I was literally struck dumb. I felt like madly applauding or just bowing in reverence.

Jerry London�s voice boomed from the tower, �Very nice, Toshiro. We�re going to shoot it again.� I couldn�t believe that Jerry would think that this miracle of horsemanship could be repeated, especially since the horses we used in Japan were not specially trained for films. They were practically wild. I had done quite a bit of horseback riding for films, and I knew that a horse galloping flat out like that cannot be stopped so suddenly without pain. I knew the horse would likely balk if made to do it again.

But I guess Jerry hadn�t done much riding, because he asked Mifune to repeat this phenomenal equestrian feat not just once but seven times. On the seventh take, the horse invariably shied, charged around behind the enclosure and threw Mifune-san to the ground. Instead of raging against the director and threatening to sue the production for reckless endangerment, Mifune-san, who had to be hospitalized for observation, was found on the ground, weeping with shame. He felt he had let everyone down. This great and incomparable man sent flowers and notes of apology to the director and the producers and returned to work two days later.