TOKYO STORY (JAPAN, 1953). Wednesday, 14th November 2007EVENING PERFORMANCE starts at 7.45 p.m.
Japan, 1953. Directed by Yasujiro Ozu from a screenplay by Kogo
Noda and himself. Photography (black and white): Yushun Atsuta.
Music: Takanori Saito. Certificate: “U”. Length: 135 minutes.
Leading Players: CHISHU RYU (Shukichi Hirayama, the father), CHIEKO
HIGASHIYAMA (Tomi, the mother), SETSUKO HARA (Noriko,
the daughter-in-law), SO YAMAMURA (Koichi, the son), KUNIKO
MIYAKE (his wife, Fumiko), HARUKO SUGIMURA (Shige, the
daughter), NOBUO NAKAMURA (her husband), SHIRO OSAKA,
(Keizo, the other son), EIJIRO TOHNO (Numata), HISAO TOAKE
(Hattori), SHIZUKA MURASE and MICHIHIRO MOHRI (The Grandchildren).
It’s over twenty years since the Eastbourne Film Society last screened “Tokyo Story”, the most famous of the fifty three films (thirty two of them extant) that were made by Yasujiro Ozu who lived from 1903 to 1963. Ozu, along with Kurosawa and Mizoguchi, is widely seen as one of Japan’s foremost film-makers, but I would go further since I regard him as the greatest of all cinema directors. This may be seem strange since his films are quiet, never showy and lack any suggestion of striking visual effects. However, what Ozu did, in a career beginning in silent cinema and lasting up to his death, was to find through cinema a way of expressing his view of life. Later on commencing in the 1940s the late Ingmar Bergman would do the same, these being the two men who most completely proved that the medium of cinema was as suitable as any other for an artist wishing to convey to others his deepest feelings about human existence. Of these two, there’s no doubt that it was Bergman who had a gift for unforgettable images, but it was Ozu who found a way of treating life on screen so that it seemed totally real. That sense of reality came partly from a decision to eschew anything that seemed fictional – an approach that required a solution to the problem of holding the interest of the audience without giving them a work that could be seen as dramatising reality – but it depended no less on the fact that Ozu’s characters come across as living and breathing people. When you look back on an Ozu film, you think of the figures in it as though they were old friends and acquaintances, and further viewings only add to that sensation. Look at a still from one of his films and you could be looking at a photograph of somebody you know, for these characters lodge in the mind not as the creations of great actors (although they are that) but as the actual human beings these players have somehow become.
Ozu’s aim was to portray authentically Japanese family life, and that was central to almost all of his films. Because of that, he was long viewed by the Japanese as being a film-maker whose work was not exportable, but in taking that attitude they failed to recognise two points crucial to his appeal. First, there’s the fact that international cinema has always offered a wonderful opportunity to show us ways of life with which we are not familiar. Consequently by being wholly true to Japanese life Ozu fascinates us. But then, paradoxically, there’s the second aspect that the Japanese overlooked and that’s the fact that so much in family life is universal. The concern of parents for their children, the tensions that can arise between relatives, the sacrifices that the older generation may need to make for the younger, the disappointments that may be felt over the behaviour of children or grandchildren, the aging process leading to death that can cause a married man or woman to live out their last years alone: these are just a few of the elements in family life which enabled a man with as acute an eye as Ozu to build a whole career out of such stories without ever running short of material. It can be said that no other film-maker created a body of work that was simultaneously so specific to its setting and yet so recognisably universal in its relevance.
“Tokyo Story”, often listed as one of the ten best films of all time, was a personal favourite of the director, and I certainly regard it as one of his masterpieces. Even so, it is as well for anybody coming to it for the first time to be aware of those elements in the work to which they may need to adjust. First, there’s the fact that Ozu rarely used camera movement and in interior scenes would regularly place the camera at a set point above floor level where it would remain static. Far from being eccentric, this position was adopted because in a Japanese home the most usual position for the occupants to take up is to be seated on tatami matting. Ozu’s camera would reflect the eye level of someone seated in this way thereby creating for the Japanese viewer a direct reproduction of life indoors. For other viewers, this style may give the film a sense of formality, but in doing so it keeps sentimentality at bay and also invites us to look beneath the surface. Secondly, it’s as well to remind newcomers that eastern films are often slower than others so, given that this film lasts for over two hours, you need to adapt to its pace. Thirdly (and this is the only point on which I believe the film can be faulted) there’s the fact that the structure of the piece is not indicated in advance. “Tokyo Story” is the tale of an elderly couple who journey to Tokyo to visit their grown-up children and to see their daughter-in –law, Noriko, whose husband had died in the war. Since the film begins as the parents are about to set out, you might think that their return would mark the end of the story. It doesn’t, and to prepare the audience for that it would have been helpful to present the film in two sections: Part I ‘The Visit’ and, much more briefly, ‘Part II ‘The Aftermath’. Indeed, without revealing what it is, it can be said that the most dramatic event in “Tokyo Story” takes place after the return home.
Ozu’s method for making the everyday so compelling was to fill his films with precisely observed detail while ensuring that everything included was relevant to the overall picture. Also central to his appeal is the warmth of feeling, a human concern that is usually non-judgmental and ultimately optimistic despite showing an awareness of the sadness of life. In a perfect cast, three actors in “Tokyo Story” stand out: Ozu’s regular player Chishu Ryu as the father, Chieko Higashiyama quietly unforgettable as the mother and Setsuko Hara as the daughter-in-law. It’s she who can be seen as the heroine of the film because it’s her actions that prove that the smallest of positive gestures can be of infinite importance. Some find “Tokyo Story” a sad film, but it seems to me too full of love and affection for that, and in the final scene Ozu uses the soundtrack brilliantly to remind us that life goes on.
Selected Filmography (Titles underlined shown by the EFS):
The Sword of Penitence (1927); I Was Born, But… (1932); A Story of Floating Weeds (1934); The Brothers and Sisters of the Toda Family (1941); There Was A Father (1942); Late Spring (1949); Tokyo Story (1953); Equinox Flower (1958); Late Autumn (1960): The End of Summer (1961); An Autumn Afternoon (1962).
“One of the most profoundly rewarding films ever made” – The Guardian.
“A masterly piece of work” – Sunday Times.
“One of the cinema’s indisputable works of art” – David Robinson, Financial Times.
Programme notes by Mansel Stimpson.
