For me, Akira Kurosawa is a lot like Taylor Swift. I haven’t actually experienced much of his art but I sure do know a lot about him: He’s the most famous Japanese director, a legend of cinema, and the creator of some of the most influential samurai films ever made. Rashomon, Seven Samurai, and Yojimbo – I can throw these names around and sound like a half-decent cinephile.
I also knew about the cultural legacy of his films. Rashomon gave birth to the “Rashomon Effect” (conflicting accounts by different people of the same event) which has been used as a clever plot device in many movies and tv shows. Seven Samurai was the movie that was remade into the classic western The Magnificent Seven, and supposedly inspired an entire genre of “assembling the team” movies (Ocean’s Eleven, The Avengers, Inception).
I wonder if he also invented the slow-motion walk scene once the team is in place.
As a high school student, I was “forced” to watch Ran (a feudal Japan retelling of Shakespeare’s King Lear) on a grainy VHS tape from the 1980s. I knew I was supposed to like Kurosawa but man, was that a snoozefest.
Fast forward to now, and older me (wiser me?) has decided to revisit Kurosawa and take an alternative path to discovering him: Forget all the famous movies set in feudal Japan with samurais and sexy sword fights. Give me something modern Akira!
And that’s how I ended up watching The Bad Sleep Well (1960). No samurai, no epic battle scenes. Instead, it’s a revenge story set in post-war Japan’s corporate world.
The movie is called The Bad Sleep Well in English (TBSW), but a more accurate translation is The Worse You Are, the Better You Sleep (TWYA TBYS). That’s actually a better title because it sets the tone perfectly—dark, cynical, and deeply skeptical of human nature.
This is not a hopeful movie.
Shakespeare in a corporate suit
Beyond samurai movies, Kurosawa is also known for his adaptations of Shakespeare. TWYA TBYS is loosely based on Hamlet (or says Wikipedia). On the surface, the movie is a revenge thriller. The plot revolves around Koichi Nishi, a young executive with a hidden agenda. Nishi infiltrates a corrupt corporation to expose the executives responsible for driving his father to suicide. What follows is a game of cat and mouse, as Nishi slowly turns the screws on his prey while they rush to uncover the mystery of what is going on.
Japan in the shadows: Post-war corruption
The world that Kurosawa was depicting is a Japan rebuilding itself, post World-War II, into the economic powerhouse that it is today, but that transformation has come at a price. Corporate greed and bureaucratic corruption are rampant and loyalty to authority is exploited by those in power. It’s a corporate jungle where the powerful crush the weak and sleep soundly at night—hence the title.
The movie opens with an intricately-crafted wedding scene. This is a scene that has really stuck with me – I guess this is the genius of Kurosawa at work?. It’s here that we’re introduced to executives of a shady construction company, where the subtle gestures and pointed glances hint at secrets bubbling beneath the surface, while reporters looking in on the wedding gossip about the corporation’s shady dealings and perform the role of a classic greek chorus, providing the necessary background on these characters.
Suddenly, a second wedding cake arrives shaped like the company’s office building, complete with a red rose sticking out of a window which is a reference to the mysterious death of an executive who allegedly “jumped” from that very window many years ago. It’s the first sign that something is afoot – who sent this cake?
Deference to Authority: Loyalty at All Costs
Another theme Kurosawa examines is the cultural deference to authority. In Japanese culture, there’s a strong emphasis on respect for hierarchy and obedience to one’s superiors.
Echoes of this mindset run through Japan’s history, from the infamous kamikaze pilots of World War II to Hiroo Onoda, the soldier who continued fighting in the Philippines for 28 years after the war ended. He refused to believe the war was over until his commanding officer personally told him to stand down in 1974. This kind of unyielding loyalty is deeply embedded in Japan’s collective psyche.
In the film, this deference becomes a weapon used by the powerful to maintain control. Employees are expected to protect their bosses at all costs, even if it means committing crimes or ruining their own lives. In one scene, a scapegoated employee, under immense pressure, breaks down and essentially sacrifices himself for the company by jumping in front of a bus. It’s not a grand act of heroism or honor—it’s a tragic display of how loyalty can be exploited.
In The Bad Sleep Well, Kurosawa flips this cultural norm on its head, asking uncomfortable questions: At what point does loyalty become complicity? And is it possible to challenge authority without becoming a victim yourself?
Revenge: A Double-Edged Sword
At its core, The Bad Sleep Well is a revenge story—but not the kind where you walk away feeling satisfied. Nishi’s mission to avenge his father drives the plot, but as the story unfolds, it becomes clear that revenge is a messy, destructive business.
Sure, we root for him to take down the corrupt executives, but the film constantly reminds us of the cost. As Nishi goes deeper into his plan, the lines between justice and vengeance blur. His obsession isolates him from those he cares about, and his methods become increasingly ruthless.
And then there’s the ending. Kurosawa doesn’t offer any easy resolutions. Revenge brings no closure.
I loved the moral ambiguity of TWYA TBYS. It’s not a story about righting wrongs; it’s a story about what happens when you try to fight fire with fire and end up getting burned.
Vinoy 
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