In Rashomon, especially the wonderful camera moves in the second part as the woman tells her story and is sitting there and the camera is dwelling on her and goes back around her and the man, her husband, is continuously in a steady shot, and she’s always moving like this and like that with the knife. It’s so magnificent, some of the camera moves are so precise and so psychological, you know?

He’s emphasizing the character of the woman in such a magnificent way, slowly building up that she might have killed him. Which we don’t know, of course.

I mean it’s superb filmmaking and there’s nearly no example in the whole film industry where you can point out something so splendid.

– Paul Verhoeven

Masayuki Mori and Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Masayuki Mori and Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Masayuki Mori and Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Masayuki Mori and Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Masayuki Mori and Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Masayuki Mori and Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Masayuki Mori and Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Masayuki Mori and Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Masayuki Mori in Rashomon (1950)

Masayuki Mori in Rashomon (1950)

Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Masayuki Mori in Rashomon (1950)

Masayuki Mori in Rashomon (1950)

Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Masayuki Mori in Rashomon (1950)

Masayuki Mori in Rashomon (1950)

Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Masayuki Mori in Rashomon (1950)

Masayuki Mori in Rashomon (1950)

Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)

Machiko Kyô in Rashomon (1950)