A Story of Floating Weeds: Yasujirō Ozu

[Revisit Review]

The first time I watched Yasujirō Ozu's A Story of Floating Weeds was years and years and years ago. The one thing that really stuck with me was the scene where the head kabuki actor goes fishing with a young man who doesn't know that he is actually his son. The framing, the poetry of their synchronized movements captivated me. This time around I watched the film with a commentary track by none other than that great scholar of Japanese cinema Donald Richie. His insights really helped me appreciate how varied, complex, and rich the film is in terms of its generic progression (it starts as a comedy and gradually evolves into a tragic family drama), its cinematography (including a fantastic scene where two characters argue across a street while it rains), and some truly astounding acting (like one scene where sad members of a disbanding kabuki theater troupe try to sing together in a circle only for it to break apart when one character--whom up until then had been relatively stoic--bursts into tears and runs away). I don't know if I'll ever get to a point where I'll enjoy a film by Ozu. But I think this was perhaps the first time that I've ever truly appreciated one.

9/10

That Night's Wife: Yasujirō Ozu

It’s almost weird to see a Yasujirō Ozu film with such a mobile camera. That Night's Wife has dolly shots (most of which move primarily along a single axis, usually from left to right or from right to left) and zooms. I even spied one interesting transition where a shot that zoomed in on a closed door quick-faded to a shot of a person knocking on it from the other side while zooming out. That’s an almost Dada flourish by Ozu’s standards. I was also pleasantly surprised to find his trademark pillow shots on display. Anyhow, the first half is essentially a crime thriller about a criminal on the run from the police after robbing an office for money to pay for his deathly ill daughter's medical treatment. The second half is a quiet domestic drama where a snooping undercover cop is held hostage by the criminal's wife for the night so that she and her husband can stand vigil over their daughter for the night since the doctor said that if she survives until the morning she will make a complete recovery. Watching the film, I was fascinated by how Ozu's visual language and the physical performances of the actors managed to tell the story without dialogue. Now I'm developing a weird suspicion that the advent of sound had an adverse effect on his work since it forced his films to slow down enough to accommodate dialogue, thereby diluting his ability to be a purely visual storyteller. I'll have to investigate further...

7/10

The Flavor of Green Tea over Rice: Yasujirō Ozu

Yasujirō Ozu's The Flavor of Green Tea over Rice is a simple movie about appreciating the simple pleasures in life. The film centers around a strained, middle-aged married couple with no children. The husband, Mokichi Satake (Shin Saburi), works as an executive at an engineering company and enjoys living relaxed lifestyle. He loves traveling third class on trains, cheap cigarettes, and ochazuke, a simple dish consisting of green tea over rice. The wife, Taeko (Michiyo Kogure), finds Mokichi dull and unbearable. She seems to relish opportunities to lie to him so she can go on lavish vacations with friends to spas. Their lives are disrupted when Mokichi's family asks them to act as matchmakers for Setsuko (Keiko Tsushima), their strong-willed niece who resents arranged marriages. Soon Mokichi and Taeko have a falling out: Taeko won't speak to him, even when he is assigned by his company to fly to Uruguay on a business trip. After he leaves, Taeko comes to the realization that maybe Mokichi's outlook on life had some merit after all. The Flavor of Green Tea over Rice is a minor film by Ozu, but it should be of interest to scholars because of how often he moves his characteristically static camera. There are many shots that take place from the inside of moving vehicles. Additionally, a shot where Ozu slowly zooms his camera in and out on an empty domestic room is repeated several times throughout the film. In a sense, it almost acts as one of Ozu's trademark "pillow shots."

7/10