Though there are many short cues in the film worth discussing, one particular cue stands out from the rest. After passing the First Castle over to his eldest son (Taro) and "retiring" with the title of the Great Lord, Hidetora kills one of Taro's retainers in disregard for his son's newfound authority. The instant Hidetora is revealed to be the killer, the sound of a beating drum, followed by a piercing shrill from a Noh fue (flute), stuns the audience. As the drumbeat signifies the nearing of an inevitable war, the flute is representative of Hidetora and (as we will discuss later) man's pathetic existence. The introduction of the cue emphasizes the visual and theatrical impact of Hidetora's menacing gaze and ends (logically) with the Great Lord's retreat from the tower window. As Kurosawa matches the melody of the fue to Hidetora's onscreen actions (when he retrieves his bow and disappears with the music), the cue proves to support the picture and intensify the emotion at this turning point in the story.

In contrast to the previous cue discussed, the battle sequence at the Third Castle illustrates (as Kurosawa once wrote) "the counterpoint of sound and image as opposed to the union of sound and image." In this sequence, Kurosawa creates an ironic and "unreal" effect through the conflict of music and action: After finding sanctuary at the Third Castle, Hidetora's castle is attacked by his sons' armies, and an episode of intense violence and carnage follows. Kurosawa avoids the obvious approach of complementing the music to the picture and does not apply any (source) sound to the sequence. Instead, Kurosawa used Mahler's First Symphony as a model for his composer Takemitsu, Toru to study, resulting in a slow-moving and magnificent cue that contradicts and intensifies the horror of the scene. Although the beginning of the cue indicates the start of the montage, the music is presented as an equal to the action throughout the rest the sequence, until the abrupt punctuation of a gun shot announcing the death of Taro.

Another cue that appears shortly after the montage, though subtle, does not fail to haunt us. Hidetora, unable to commit suicide after the defeat of his men, goes mad and appears before his enemies. Neither his son, Jiro, nor his soldiers dare lift a finger against the Great Lord as he wanders past them – insanity saves Hidetora. Though barely audible at the beginning of the scene, the music shifts from a suspenseful drone to a quivering pitch as the warlord walks off into the distance. The frenzied pace of this subtle "quivering" parallels Hidetora's madness and the wilderness he is about to enter. Though there is an emotional and psychological emphasis in the cue, an aspect of foreshadowing is also evident; for a few brief moments, the flute (reminiscent of the cue 1M1 and the first cue discussed) introduces a melody that will later be associated with another tragic character in Ran – Tsurumaru.

Tsurumaru is introduced when Hidetora and a few of his remaining retainers come across the sole inhabitant (a blind hermit) of an old hut. This stranger turns out to be the younger brother of Lady Sue (Jiro's wife), Tsurumaru, who was blinded as a boy by Hidetora; after killing Tsurumaru's father and destroying the family castle, it was the only way Hidetora would allow the boy to live. Tsurumaru, however, having chosen the path of Buddhism, forgives Hidetora and even offers to play the fue for him. The moment Tsurumaru begins playing his flute, there is an immediate shift in emotion as we see Hidetora react in horror to the music (note that this cue is the only visual source music in Ran). Keeping in mind how Tsurumaru's theme appears in several scenes throughout Ran, his movements and the shrilly melody remind us of life's "bitter arrows." Of course, Hidetora does not fail to read this, as we see him stumble over in shock, interrupting Tsurumaru's music.

It is not until the end of the movie that the meaning of Ran is fully defined. The sun is setting and Tsurumaru stands alone at the ruins of his family castle, hopelessly waiting for his sister's return. He wanders among the ruins, stumbles, and drops his last possession, a religious scroll of the Amtabha. The moment Tsurumaru falters, the cue for his theme begins – the sound of the flute serves as a flashback to the tragic events witnessed in Ran. Thus, through the careful pacing of the music and the picture, a true sense of finality is established as the scene fades to black, leaving us with silence and a single word, Ran (Wretchedness / Chaos).

Although Kurosawa was a purist when it came the aesthetics of film and felt that sound only interfered with the picture, his use of sound and music (as well as silence) does not cease to amaze us. Whether Kurosawa used music to support or contradict the action, he never failed to achieve a heightened emotional impact of sight and sound – the true moving picture.