This would be a formidable entrant in any cinematic beauty contest. The rich, dark, earth colors and heaven-sent lighting effects frequently bring to mind one or another of the Old Masters (Caravaggio or Zurbarán or some other), only unlike them Kurosawa can make you look at his images exactly as long as he wants you to, less any stolen glances at your wristwatch. The Prisoner of Zenda storyline, about a lowly peasant who is a dead ringer for a powerful lord and stands in for him after his death in an effort to avert war, is so burdened down by the studied pictorial effects that it takes seemingly forever to drag itself to an ending that seems hardly worth the bother, when war comes anyway (off-screen) and with the humiliating casualty count of something like 800 to nothing. Slow and stubborn, laboriously lugging his precious visuals over a merely anecdotal plotline, Kurosawa seems to be working more out of pride than inspiration, although there are plenty of moments when the latter is evident too. He commands a certain respect, somewhat in the manner of an imperious schoolmaster, and in that same manner he induces a certain amount of squirms and mutters. With Tatsuya Nakadai. (1980) — Duncan Shepherd