Stray Dog (1949)

Directed by Akira Kurosawa; produced by Sôjirô Motoki

In the middle of a smothering summer heat wave, novice homicide detective Murakami (Toshirô Mifune) loses his service pistol. Convinced that his pocket was picked while on a bus home, he is referred to veteran investigator Sato (Takashi Shimura). As the two follow possibly inconsequential leads, they find themselves involved in a series of deadly robberies committed by the thief, whose mental health, they discover, verges on insanity.

An excellent crime-story, Stray Dog benefits from an array of features. Even though it was directed by one of the best – certainly the most famous - of Japan’s cinema-directors, Kurosawa’s work here is early in his career, and seems less subtle than it could have been. Nonetheless, it is spot-on for this straightforward tale of crimes, crooks and cops.

Furthermore, the direction takes into account the time and place, showing Tokyo as it was just four years after the end of the Second World War. Much of the city is wrecked, and there is a prolonged sequence (a little too prolonged perhaps) which depicts various aspects of the city’s slums, and the people who inhabit them, many there, maybe, due to war damage. As well, the swelter of the torrid summer is effectively portrayed, and when a heavy rain falls, the viewer can feel that even the drops are warm.

The story is, as mentioned, straightforward, but certainly not without interest, especially for someone from North America and eighty years after the movie’s production. The script, by Kurosawa and Ryûzô Kikushima, is without artifice when demonstrating crime in Japan’s capital in 1949. One wonders if such openness would have been allowed just half a decade previously. A thriving black market in firearms, sold and even rented by way of ration-cards, develops the plot, while the effects of the war are treated without bias or comment. The robber, Yusa (Isao Kimura), is described as ‘not having been the same since the war’, and one suspect is afraid of the police. Sato calms him by implying the army was brutal and that ‘we [the police] don’t do that sort of thing’.

A wide range of income-levels and residential status is shown, giving an excellent, if superficial, view of Japan in that era. Yusa lives in a hovel built behind his married sister’s house; one of his victims lives in a pleasant middle-class home with a garden, while Sato and his family happily inhabit a small cottage just outside the city.

Other aspects of Japan are related with fascinating nonchalance: a baseball game, attended by thousands despite the heat (note the team names on players’ shirt, printed in English, and the umpire’s exhortation to ‘play ball’, also in English.) The changes the country is going through are evinced by a female pickpocket astounding a knowledgeable detective by wearing a dress, whereas she had not been seen out of a kimono for decades. And note the harmonica player performing ‘Waves of the Danube’ (also known as ‘The Anniversary Song’.)

But the most obvious advantage Stray Dog has is the acting. Mifune, soon to become Japan’s first cinematic super-star, clearly has talent here, though he is almost overshadowed by Shimura, as his temporary partner. Also to be noted is Keiko Awaji as a show-girl. Like all good directors, Kurosawa pays attention to the small rôles and the bit-players.

Stray Dog takes a little time to find its pace. Once it does, however, it keeps the viewer interested as its policemen travel the underbelly, dusty streets, bars and night-clubs of late 1940s Tokyo, heading toward a satisfying climax. It is a film well worth seeing.