Ozu: Good Morning

(video by hamami36)

Good Morning (Ohayô), a movie made by Ozu in 1959: two boys beg their parents for a television set, nagging them until all patience is lost. The parents order the boys to be quiet and the boys do exactly that--refusing to utter a word. The boys' silence ultimately puts the whole neighborhood into turmoil (Jim Beaver); unbearably cute (Joel Barhamand); very cool movie (loophole41). The plot follows loosely the situations from one of Ozu's silent movies (I Was Born, But..., made in 1932). Fine comedies both.

From my favorite actors, Chishu Ryu plays in Good Morning.

(Yasujiro Ozu and Setsuko Hara)

Late Spring - The Authority of Nietzsche

Richard Strauss - Also Sprach Zarathustra
(video by schmobot)

When Zarathustra was thirty years old, he left his home and the lake of his home...

(Friedrich Nietzsche - Thus Spake Zarathustra)

Let's discuss one of the scenes from Ozu's Banshun (Late Spring): the last night in Kyoto. Father (Chishu Ryu) and daughter (Setsuko Hara) are preparing their baggage as the following day they would leave for Tokyo.

They had taken for the trip a lot of books and now they are packaging them. So sometimes they hand books one another, as his books should go into his baggage and her into hers.

And suddenly the daughter said one of the most touching sentences ever, father, even if you get married I'd like to remain with you; I want to be always on your side.

This is too much for him: how could he possibly say no? He is just a father, just a poor being, and he knows very well that he would actually not get re-married, that he would remain alone for the rest of his life.

However he must say no.

It happens that exactly in that moment he has the book of Nietzsche in his hands, Also Sprach Zarathustra. And what follows is like the father takes his forces from that book. He speaks much longer than he did for all the rest of the movie; and he speaks with authority. It is about her duty to build together with her future husband their happiness; it will not be easy, it never was; it will take long, long years, and it will be hard; that is her duty in the world.

How can he speak with such determination?

It is not his will, it is the will of Nietzsche! Unconsciously, he places himself under the moral authority of the great philosopher and he finds there the courage to say what needs to be said.

(video by warong)

(Yasujiro Ozu and Setsuko Hara)

(Nietzsche)

(Richard Strauss)

Micro-stasis in Ozu's Movies

(video by 0wn0red)

I have talked about the transcendental structure of Ozu's movies: banality of everyday, cascading disruptions up tot he point of explosion, stasis. He also uses sometimes transcendental micro-structures, within the global frame, just to balance the cinematic tension.

Here is a fine example: in Banshun (Late Spring), after Noriko was convinced to get married, she and her father make a farewell trip to Kyoto. One of the last evenings starts with a warm discussion between them. Noriko is commenting the events of the day, her father is listening with his usual smile, mix of sophisticated politeness and sincere kindness. From a moment on, her talk is sliding in a direction her father would rather avoid, about her desire to remain unmarried to continue to take care of him, even if he would get re-married. He cannot tell her the truth, that he doesn't think at a new marriage. He cannot insist in lying either: it would be too painful for him, to stand her reproachful eyes. The only outcome for him is to fake falling asleep.

So Noriko hears his quiet snoring and you can read on her face a slight frustration: it is the moment of disruption.

The camera focuses immediately on a superb China vase in the background: the moment of stasis. Her worries would not find a resolve, and daughters leaving fathers to start a new family have been since the beginnings and will be to the end, while that perfect artwork stands there defying time.

---

And here is another example of micro-stasis in the same movie: Noriko's father is talking to his friend and complaining about the fate of fathers - it's pointless to have a daughter, when she grows up someone other will take her as wife, and you remain alone. But we did the same, observes the friend and both of them start smiling. In that moment the camera moves to the yard in front of them: the yard of a temple, with sand and stones. What are worth our sorrows in face of eternity?

(video by warong)

(Yasujiro Ozu and Setsuko Hara)

Ozu: The Transcendental Structure

- Le moment décisif -
(Chishu Ryu in Banshun - Late Spring)

André Bazin studied this movie structure and used the terms of quotidien, moment décisif, and stasis.

The films of Ozu start in the everyday, in the perfect normality, dans le quotidien. Late Spring starts with a ceremony of tea preparation and we learn that the father of one of the young ladies there is teaching at a university and is just preparing a scientific paper. We see then the father working at home on the paper, along with his assistant; the daughter comes from the tea ceremony and asks the two men whether they would like something to drink or eat. Bakushû (Early Summer), starts with a morning scene at home: Noriko is helping her sister-in-law to feed the kids and then is leaving for office. In Tôkyô Monogatari (Tokyo Story) the old parents are preparing for their trip to Tokyo, a neighbor is passing by the window, they tell her that one of their sons will meet them at Osaka.

Ozu takes much care in the rigor this everyday is formalized in his movies: nothing special happens in the starting sequences, nothing is above normality, above banality.

The story then evolves rapidly in disruptions: weird signs suggest that something is not perfect. The son and the daughter are not actually happy with the coming of their parents. Noriko is not married and that's a problem. Or Noriko is a widow and her in-laws exploit her generosity.

These disruptions multiply in cascade and the situation gets more and more off control, up to the point of explosion: the decisive moment, le moment décisif.

In Late Spring the father, now alone, is peeling slowly an apple. It's one of the great cinema scenes of all times! He is silent and serious, at a certain moment we do not see any more his face, his shoulders seem to shiver a bit, then his chin is bowing down and he looses the apple.

In Tokyo Story, Noriko is suddenly bursting into tears.

It is interesting, the disruptions have accumulated up to the point. Some of those disruptions were overwhelmingly dramatic. The decisive moment is coming as the outcome of the whole story: the father will live from now on alone (Late Spring); the widow is realizing the desert of her life (Tokyo Story).

And immediately after the point of explosion, the moment of stasis comes: a frozen image revealing us that anything that happens is not that important in the cosmical order, life goes on no matter what: old folks will remain alone and eventually die, new babies will come to the world, some of us will be lucky, some not, while sea waves will continue their ride over the shore, the clouds will continue to change their shape slowly, there will be sundown and sunset, day after day.

----

And we come again at Late Spring; here is the last scene: the decisive moment followed by the stasis.

(video by wellgard)

(Yasujiro Ozu and Setsuko Hara)

Ozu: The Last Scene From His Last Movie

no copyright infringement intended
(http://www.criterion.com/current/posts/667-an-autumn-afternoon-a-fond-farewell)

Chishu Ryu in the last scene from Ozu's last movie (Sanma no aji - An Autumn Afternoon): a widower who is realizing that his 24 old daughter should not remain for ever with him, so he arranges her marriage. You'd say, a remake after his masterpiece, Banshun (Late Spring): however, there is also a son in his last movie. Someone (zetes) who is not particularly a fun of Ozu says something touching, in Autumn Afternoon, everything is observed without judgment;it's about life, it's about Japanese culture, and it's about human beings.

(Yasujiro Ozu and Setsuko Hara)

Ozu - The Present Continuous

- image from Sanma no aji (An Autumn Afternoon) - the last movie of Ozu -

Diverse forms of Oriental art emphasize the focus on the present moment. Think at the ritual of tea preparation, think at yoga. While we live in time, in history, focused on the past and the future, the traditional cultures seem to be rather unhistorical. I'm clearly exaggerating, however I need to do this to come closer to the cultural space of the East: Cosmos does not know History, there is no such thing as temporal dimension for the Universe; no past, no future, only a present moment repeating itself endlessly.

I think the Apu Trilogy of Satyajit Ray is mainly about the conflict between Cosmos and History, between Eternity and Time. I hope I will find once the energy to put here my thoughts about Pather Panchali, Aparajito and Apur Sansar: these movies are very difficult to find, there are DVD copies of them that cost very much; but if you find them, they are worth the price, even if their technical condition is poor - these three movies are like giants, like the gods carved by Unkei!

Well, the movies of Ozu, despite the mundane contemporaneity they are depicting, belong to this cultural space of the Orient, where time has no importance, events, as tragic as they can be, are viewed in their relativity, and there is a feeling that life goes on no matter what.

Ozu's movies express so strongly this feeling of life goes on because they follow the stages of Zen enlightenment:

1. when I started to study Zen, the mountain looked like a mountain
2. when I started to understand Zen, the mountain was not looking like a mountain any more
3. as I was coming closer to enlightenment, the mountain started to look again like a mountain (however carrying in its image the awareness of the moment of disruption)
   

Each of his movies starts by depicting a seemingly normal situation of everyday life. As the story goes on, more and more things contradict the normality, the situation becomes more and more conflictual, more and more intolerable, up to the point of explosion. In the end, conflicts remain unresolved, but something suggests that such conflicts, as intolerable as we perceive them, are not that important and life will go on. People die, babies get born, old fellows remain alone, youngsters will become one day old and and will remain alone. The conflicts in the movies of Ozu remain unresolved, but they are transcended.

Actually the movies of Ozu explore the rapport between immanent and transcendent. No wonder, as they are so strictly Japanese. Only this way Ozu follows in his movies a structure that transcends the barriers between civilizations. This rapport between immanent and transcendent structures also movies created in civilizational spaces that are very different from the Japanese: Paul Schrader compares the movies of Ozu, Bresson and Dreyer; and here come to mind also some movies of such different filmmakers as Pasolini, Brakhage, Kiarostami, Ray (and the list is actually much longer: think at Away from Her of Sarah Polley, or at Blind Light of Pola Rapaport).



(Yasujiro Ozu and Setsuko Hara)

The Silences of Ozu

Ma Yuan (1160–1165 to 1225) - Mountain Stroll in Spring

As I said earlier, Ozu is considered the most Japanese among Japanese filmmakers, though the Nippon specificity is hidden behind mundane contemporaneity.

One can draw a parallel between the movies of Ozu (with heroes from the middle-class of fifties' Tokyo) and any form of traditional Japanese art, let's say, ikebana, Noh, the ceremonial of tea preparation, or haiku.

Let's talk a tinny bit about haiku. Here's the famous one that comes from Bashō:

an ancient pond / a frog jumps in / the splash of water

(I understood it much more after watching Kiarostami's Five Dedicated To Ozu).

Between the verses there are silences; verses loading silences with heavy suggestions.

The music of Arvo Pärt: the prepared piano creates the bell sound; between two bell sounds, silence; music expressed by silences; but the silences are prepared by the sounds that precede them.

Ma Yuan (who lived in the twelfth century, and in the first quarter of the thirteen one) was painting his landscapes only in one corner of the canvas. Without that painted corner, the sheet of paper would have remained just a sheet of paper; now it was carrying the void, the silence, loaded by the painted corner.

This silence, this void, full of suggestions conveyed by rare sounds, tinny images in one corner, disparate verses: this MU from the tombstone of Ozu, loaded by all that his life has conveyed.

I will comment here only one scene from Bakushû (Early Spring) to show there the relationship between words and silences.

Noriko (Setsuko Hara) is announcing her family that she would marry a friend her age. All family is unpleasantly surprised. They had found for her such a good prospect, and now she would make her way! Her brother (Chishu Ryu) is the most upset, but all others are complaining, except for the father, who's not saying anything.

Noriko is not in a comfortable situation, only she's very determined.

The discussion is going on while suddenly mother says to her husband, let's go upstairs to sleep.

So they leave the room. You'd say that mother realized that's nothing to do any more; however she goes on complaining, now alone with her husband, who doesn't say anything, only a periodic mumbling, Hm.

In the end mother gets silent. At that moment Noriko passes their bedroom, without a word. And father is mumbling again, Hm.



(Yasujiro Ozu and Setsuko Hara)

The Ellipses of Ozu

(Setsuko Hara and Chishu Ryu in Tôkyô monogatari)

Was Ozu an artist or a craftsman? The question seems weird; it has a point. It's like with Vivaldi: did he compose 300 concerts, or one concert 300 times?

Let's take only the Noriko Trilogy. Are there three movies, or is there only one, crafted three times with slight variations? So the question is: did Ozu create 58 movies, or only one for 58 times? As his first films are now lost (no more originals, no more copies, nothing), you could find here a reason :) Just kidding.

The answer is that Ozu was interested in certain aspects of the Japanese cultural space, he was exploring ways to express these aspects in the movie art and he aimed to improve them continuously.

With each new movie the setting becomes more precise, the position of the camera becomes more precise, the faces of the actors become closer to the archetypal.

And the story becomes more and more elliptic. Any non-essential accessory disappears. With any new film, Ozu is more and more minimalistic.

Let's take Tôkyô monogatari. The old parents are getting ready for the trip to Tokyo and tell a neighbor who's passing by the window that they will meet one of their sons at Osaka.

Their stop at Osaka is not in the movie; their railroad trip neither: they are not necessary in the economy of the story, while the preparations of their son from Tokyo to bring them home and the reaction of his kids are shown: they are essential and they carry somehow the ellipses (the parallel events from Osaka and from the railroad trip).

When they come back from Tokyo, the parents have to stop at Osaka for a few days, as the mother is ill. The movie shows only their son, complaining at office of his troubles with the old guys. Again, his complain carries somehow the ellipses (mother getting ill, their unexpected stop at Osaka).

The old guys come back at home and mother collapses. The movie shows only the son from Tokyo getting the news and his discussion with the sister, her proposal to go both to their parents, and to take also with them the mourning dresses just in case.

So nothing is useless in the story; the economy is total; Ozu has ruthlessly cut anything non-essential.

(Yasujiro Ozu and Setsuko Hara)

The Only Son - The First Sound Film of Ozu (1936)

(video by swelzer)

Hitori musuko (The Only Son), the first sound film made by Ozu. It was 1936 (Ozu remained all his life very stubborn regarding his cinematographic techniques: he was the last of the great moviemakers to start creating sound films, as he would be the last to switch to color).

Chishu Ryu appears here in a secondary role. The lead is Chouko Iida. A very sad story, told by Ozu in his masterful way: with decency and poignancy. A widowed mother (Choucko Iida) gives up everything to let her son pursue his studies. He moves to Tokyo, full of ambitions and tenacity. After thirteen years his mother is able to come to visit him. His life was totally mediocre.

Look at the scene from the video: Ozu was fantastic in his language of images! The sadness of the personages is continuously balanced by the slow motion of clouds, by the wind moving the stems, while the high chimneys are a memento mori. The son failed in everything, and the old mother finds in herself the force to encourage him!

And again, the clouds, the wind, telling us that life goes on no matter what.




(Yasujiro Ozu and Setsuko Hara)

Equinox Flower (1958)

no copyright infringement intended
(http://www.a2pcinema.com/ozu-san/films/equinoxflower.htm)

Am inceput un soi de maraton cinematografic, mai precis un maraton Ozu, iar daca vreti sa fiu si mai precis un maraton al ultimelor filme ale lui Ozu.

Un regizor care a creat cateva zeci de filme, incepand cu sfarsitul anilor 20 si pana in anul mortii sale, 1962.

A fost un conservator: in gusturi, in atitudinea fata de traditii, in judecata asupra evolutiei societatii japoneze dupa al doilea razboi mondial. Conservator pana in dinti: s-a incapatanat sa faca filme mute in anii 30 si a trecut greu la filmele sonore. S-a incapatanat sa faca filme alb-negru in anii 50 si s-a lasat convins sa treaca la color de abia spre sfarsitul decadei.

Iar Higanbana (Equinox Flower) este primul sau film color, e facut in 1958.

Am vazut multe din filmele lui si m-au inmarmurit de fiecare data. Am vazut unul din filmele lui mute si am ramas inmarmurit in fata puritatii unui film fara vorbe. In schimb filmele lui sonore isi pastreaza puritatea, dar dialogul este superb. Marile lui filme au fost alb-negru - iar fiecare imagine din filmele lui este superb construita. Ei bine, primul lui film color era o bucurie a ochilor. O explozie de frumusete.

Asadar Ozu a fost conservator in toate; insa a fost un om extrem de intelegator, de tolerant, de bun. Asa incat judecarea de catre el a schimbarilor care se petreceau in Japonia acelor ani era o judecata ingaduitoare in care condamnarea noului in numele vechiului era inlocuita de o nostalgie luminoasa.

Toate filmele lui de dupa razboi dezbat o singura tema la nesfarsit: schimbarea relatiilor in sanul familiei japoneze, trecerea dela valorile traditionale la valorile de azi.

Este si subiectul lui Equinox Flower: un tata de familie aratandu-se in discutiile cu ceilalti foarte ingaduitor cu noua atitudine a tinerilor care nu mai vor sa auda de ca casatorii aranjate. Evident, cand afla in mod neasteptat ca fata lui cea mare vea sa se marite cu un om pe care il iubeste, treaba se schimba si tatal devine un tiran. Intre timp mai este vizitat de un prieten (Chishu Ryu), care a patit-o: fata s-a mutat cu iubitul ei! Stiu ca zambiti, dar sutnem in Tokio in anul 1958.

Este insa o comedie blanda: mama, fata, sora ei, prietena ei, mama prieteni ei, comploteaza pe ascuns si il duc pe tata acolo unde vor ele. De fapt baiatul pe care fata il iubeste este un baiat foarte bun, pe care si l-ar dori oricine ca ginere. E drept ca nu e bogat si ca se va muta la Hiroshima, lunad deci fata departe. Dar e un baiat sa il pui la rana.

Nu este unul din marile filme ale lui Ozu. Insa vaznadu-l, mi-am aminiti de ceva ce am observat in picturile lui Hopper, marele maestru realist american al primei jumatati de secol XX.

Hopper a zugravit in panzele lui lumea new-yorkeza (a avut si alte subiecte, but let's stick to the point). Din cand in cand a observat lucruri extraoridnare. Dar astea nu apareau mereu. A fost fidel lumii lui, a urmarit-o cu dragoste, i-a cercetat detaliile si din cand in cand a spus in panzele lui lucruri extraordinare.

The Nighthawks este considerata capodopera lui, dar pentru a ne da Nighthawks a desenat cu dragoste cele doua femei care stau la o masa langa geam la unul din restaurantele chinezesti din Manhattan, a desenat-o pe femeia care sta ingandurata in fata unei cesti de cafea pe care si-a turnat-o la un automat, a desenat cuplul care este asezat pe scaune la teatru inainte sa se ridice cortina...

La fel si Ozu: cateva lucruri pe care le-a descoperit el in anii aceia, studiind cu dragoste familia japoneza, sunt zuguduitoare si traverseaza toate culturile: dragostea resemnata a parintilor pentru copiii lor ajunsi adulti si instrainati.

Insa pentru ca sa descopere aceste diamante de adevar profund, a studiat rabdator, fara sa oboseasca, lumea aceea din Tokio al anilor cinzeci, in care kimonourile se luptau cu rochiile europene, in care costumul purtat pe strada se arunca pe jos imediat ce ajungeai acasa - nevasta ti-l lua cuminte si il punea pe umeras. Lumea aceea in care existau mici localuri cu mancare foarte japoneza, cu ingrediente a caror reteta avea sa se uite, localuri micute in care barbatii schimbau cate o vorba dand pe gat paharele de sake, baruri care erau inca foarte japoneze dar aveau firmele si in engleza.

(Yasujiro Ozu and Setsuko Hara)

Tokyo Twilight (1957)

no copyright infringement intended
(http://japanesemovies.over-blog.com/article-tokyo-twilight-1957-directed-by-yasujiro-ozu-85527850.html)

Tôkyô boshoku (Tokyo Twilight) - filmul pe care Ozu l-a facut imediat dupa Early Spring, in 1957.

Se indeparteaza dela stilul celorlalte filme. Povestea devine aici in mod explicit mai dramatica, nu mai are acea retinere minimalista care ii face filmele celelalte atat de cehoviene.

Un tata (Chishu Ryu) si-a crescut singur cele doua fete. Acum ele sunt mari. Sora cea mare (Setsuko Hara) este maritata si are un copil de numai cativa ani. Sotul ei, profesor universitar, a inceput sa bea si merge pe panta ratarii. Asa ca ea isi ia copilul si se muta acasa la tatal ei.

Problema mare este insa cu sora cea mica, care ii priveste cu suspiciune pe amandoi, si pe tata, si pe sora mai mare. A abandonat facultatea si a intrat intr-un cerc dubios de prieteni. A ramas gravida, iar iubitul ei se poarta ca un om de nimic. Este decisa sa avorteze, dar trebuie sa faca rost de bani pentru asta, asa ca umbla sa se imprumute. Fireste ca nu le spune nimic nici tatalui, nici surorii.

Ca sa se complice lucrurile si mai mult, mama, care si-a parasit sotul si fetitele cu multi ani in urma si a fugit cu un iubit, apare pe neasteptate. Nu pentru a-si face cumva datoria de mama (nici nu prea mai e posibil, dupa atatia ani), ci pentru a crea tensiune intre ceilalti.

Pentru ca sora mai mica stia ca mama ei murise. Acum nu mai este sigura de nimic, nici macar daca de fapt tatal ei adevarat nu e cumva amantul de demult al mamei. Isi face avortul si, coplesita de mizeria vietii ei, se sinucide.

Filmul se termina in nota Ozu: sora cea mare se decide sa se intoarca la sot (pentru ca isi da seama, din tragedia surorii, ca un copil trebuie crescut de amandoi parintii), iar tatal ramane singur.

Dramatismul povestii imi pare excesiv pentru un film de Ozu. Jocul actorilor este insa la fel de sobru ca intotdeauna, iar atmosfera acelui Tokio al anilor 50 este creata cu aceeasi maiestrie. Toate acele amanunte, acele localuri mititele in care se bea sake si se mananca supa cu fidea, masinile americane din ce in ce mai prezente pe strazi, reclamele in japoneza si engleza, cladirile impozante si impersonale ale bancilor si societatilor de asigurari, casele japoneze dela periferie.


(Yasujiro Ozu and Setsuko Hara)

Soshun (Early Spring) - 1956

no copyright infringement intended
(http://somewordsandplaces.wordpress.com/2009/01/08/ozu-yasujiro-soshun-early-spring-1956/)

Un film facut de Yasujiro Ozu in 1956, Early Spring.

Povestea este cat se poate de simpla: un functionar din Tokio, la vreo 35 - 36 de ani, vag nemultumit de monotonia vietii, si la serviciu, si acasa, se aprinde dupa o colega, are cu ea o aventura foarte scurta, sotia isi da seama si pleaca de acasa, el intelege prostia facuta, sotia il iarta.

Sigur ca mentalitatea societatii s-a schimbat mult de atunci: pozitia femeii in familie si in societate este cu totul alta. Suntem insa in 1956, iar in filmele facute intre 1948 si 1962 (anul mortii lui), Ozu a studiat in infinite nuante evolutia familiei japoneze in acei ani.

Daca Kurosawa este considerat cel mai occidental dintre marii regizori japonezi (ceea ce pare poate curios in ochii nostri, pentru ca noi parem sa ii sesizam in primul rand specificul japonez), Ozu este considerat cel mai japonez dintre marii regizori - si pare iarasi curios, pentru ca lumea filmelor sale este lumea din Tokio al anilor 50, cu comportament aparent foarte occidental.

Cred ca exista aici o explicatie: Ozu era conservator - el privea occidentalizarea societatii japoneze cu un ochi critic. Mare artist, nu apasa pe nici o clapa a claviaturii prea tare - critica lui nu este niciodata stridenta - este sugerata subtil. Eroii lui se imbraca europeneste ca sa iasa din casa la cumparaturi sau la serviciu - cand reintra acasa redevin japonezi.

Casele japoneze sunt descrise cu mare rafinament: Ozu isi pune camera de filmat foarte jos, aproape de podea, la nivelul acelor tatami, iar eroii sunt in general asezati pe scaunele sau ghemuiti pe saltea. Iar camera de filmat mangaie camera de locuit, cadrajul scenei este intotdeunaa perfect, glasvandurile acelea tipic japoneze, luneca usor si raman intredechise, cadrand eroii si mobilele acelea minuscule.

Fiecare scena de interior este urmata pentru buna masura de o scena afara, in care vezi miscarea agale a norilor, miscarea agale a frunzelor - pentru ca in scena de intoerior se creaza o tensiune care este sublimata de linistea scenei de afara.

Iar la sfarsit, in cam toate filmele lui apare imaginea unui rau, care creaza senzatia de stasis - conflictul nu se va rezolva, dar exista o ordine cosmica superioara - iar conflictul va fi vazut in aceasta perspectiva ampla la adevarata lui valoare. Intr-o carte in care sunt analizate filmele lui Ozu, Bresson si Dreyer, momentul acesta final este explicat in acest sens - Paul Schrader, autorul cartii priveste filmele lui Ozu in dimensiunea lor zen.

Aici insa imaginea marelui fluviu apare putin inainte de sfarsit (insa cu acelasi efect metafizic) - iar ultima imagine, care urmeaza dupa impacarea celor doi soti, este o imagine a unor munti impaduriti (sa nu va inchipuiti ca impacarea lor este prezentata in film mai mult decat ce este strict necesar: ea ii spune, da, putem sa consideram ca viata noastra de cuplu incepe din nou)

Este, din cate stiu, singurul film in care Ozu s-a ocupat de aventura extraconjugala. In celelalte filme ale lui, subiectul a fost relatia intre generatii in aceeasi familie.

Povestea filmului se desfasoara, ca in toate celelate filme ale lui, cu multa economie de mijoace. Exista o decenta care il opreste pe regizor sa spuna despre un lucru mai mult decat trebuie neaparat spus. Iar dramatismul situatiei il ghicesti dincolo de ce se vede pe ecran. Sotul incepe sa isi minta sotia, pentru a-si justifica absentele: un coleg de serviciu muribund este o scuza pentru a lipsi noaptea.

Ati putea sa credeti ca filmul este eliptic. Da si nu. Imaginati-va o poveste de Cehov si veti avea imaginea filmului. Cehov nu spune nici el mai mult decat trebuie: aceeasi decenta superba. Dar, ca si Ozu, Cehov lasa povestea sa curga cumva dela sine si nu se fereste de amanunte care apar deodata, fara voia lui, amanunte care nu au legatura cu logica povestirii, dar care, tocmai fiindca apar natural, ne transmit semnale extarordinare deapre o lume care este acolo, dincolo de naratiune. E un talent urias, sa nu spui nimic mai mult decat trebuie din ce tine de logica naratiunii si in acelasi timp sa lasi viata sa curga odata cu naratiunea si sa acorzi momentele potrivite franturilor neasteptate care iti apar fara voia ta, a celui care esti autor.

Pentru cunoscatorii filmelor lui Ozu: este unul din putinele filme in care nu apare marea artista Setsuko Hara - iar alt mare artist, Chishu Ryu apare intr-un rol secundar. Il stiam din atatea filme ale lui Ozu, l-am recunoscut aici si i-am urmarit jocul cu multa bucurie - intalnirea cu un vechi prieten.

Exista la Ozu, ca si la Cehov, acea toleranta inteleapta a celui care a vazut multe in viata si stie ca nu trebuie sa judeci pentru a nu fi judecat, si mai stie ca life goes on no matter what.


(Yasujiro Ozu and Setsuko Hara)

Days of Youth - 1929

no copyright infringement intended
(http://www.dddhouse.com/v3/product_details.php?ProductID=6155)

Gakusei romance: Wakaki hi (Days of Youth), a movie made by Ozu in 1929. Chishu Ryu was playing in it. Quite a long story, isn't it?

(Yasujiro Ozu and Setsuko Hara)

Floating Weeds

no copyright infringement available
(http://jbspins.blogspot.com/2010/10/ozu-at-ifc-floating-weeds.html)

O trupa ambulanta de teatru Kabuki, dand spectacole prin diverse sate si impuscand francul, cum se zice.

Liderul trupei este un actor imbatranit alunecand tot mai mult spre cabotinism, stapan inca pe cateva trucuri actoricesti care merg cat vor mai merge. Alaturi de el actrita principala, imbatranita si ea, amanta lui de multa vreme, crezandu-se deci in drept sa terorizeze restul trupei. O actrita tanara in roluri de ingenua, cam curvulita sau poate numai prostuta. Si vreo doi - trei actori care nu mai sunt chiar tineri nici ei, talentul nu ii da afara din casa, in cautare mereu de noi contracte cu alte trupe.

Intr-unul din satele prin care trec si dau spectacole, o carciumarita imbatranita si ea (evident, o carciuma nenorocita de tara unde se serveste ceai, sake de proasta calitate, si oarece mancaruri specifice). Carciumarita si-a crescut singura baiatul, resemnata, fara sa ii reproseze niciodata nimic tatalui care mai venea din cand in cand cu trupa de teatru, cum a venit acum. Fiul il stie de unchi, unchiul actor cu care merge la pescuit atunci cand apare prin sat, odata la cativa ani. Fiul are acum vreo 20 de ani si este foarte reusit. Este studios, este energic, si mama vrea sa il vada la universitate.

Batranul actor a obosit si ar vrea sa traga la matca, nu mai poate lupta cu spectacole de rahat, cu tot mai putini spectatori, cu drumuri noroioase intre saturi, si cu dormit prin hanuri. Asa ca ar lasa dracului toate si ar ramane la iubirea lui din tinerete, la carciumareasa. Care e fericita ca iubitul ei va ramane in sfarsit la ea, sa aibe macar acum la batranete cui sa ii spele izmenele si sa ii miroasa aghioasele.

Evident insa ca actrita principala nu pare deloc multumita cu acest outcome si incepe sa teasa intrigi. O convinge usor pe actrita tanara sa il seduca pe tanar.

Ce urmeaza ii va nemultumi pe toti. Cei doi tineri se vor indragosti imediat unul de celalalt si vor ramane impreuna. Ea va parasi teatrul pentru a fi o sotie iubitoare, el va renunta la universitate. Carciumareasa va vedea ca visul ei de a-si vedea fiul domn s-a dus pe apa sambetei. Actrita principala va vedea ca nu obtine de fapt nimic din intriga ei. Actorul principal va incerca sa controleze situatia si sa il intoarca pe fiul lui spre universitate, fiul va afla ca actorul este tatal lui si il va sictiri, ce mama dracului a pascut pana acum de douazeci de ani? Daca mama il iubeste si inca vrea sa il primeasca e treaba ei, dar pe el sa il lase dracului in pace.

Intre timp trupa se destrama, fiecare actor pleaca spre alta trupa.

Actorul batran este decis sa ramana macar acum langa femeia care l-a iubit in zadar atat amar de ani, dar ceva il face sa fuga la gara, unde il asteapta actrita principala, vor merge amandoi sa joace in alta trupa care este dispusa sa ii primeasca, asa cabotini cum sunt.

Sunt floating weeds, buruieni plutitoare, nu pot sta intr-un loc, rostul lor de buruieni este sa pluteasca unde ii duce apa.

Yasujiro Ozu a facut filmul asta prin anii 30: un film mut. Spre sfarsit de cariera a facut un remake, sonor si in culori.

Am avut posibilitatea sa vad amandoua versiunile.





(Yasujiro Ozu and Setsuko Hara)