Ozu’s A Straightforward Boy

In the history of cinema, probably no director had a finer touch when it came to working with child actors than Yasujiro Ozu. He became known for his mastery of domestic dramas, but he also made a few crime melodramas early in his career, because that was the work he could get. This silent short always sounded like a hybrid of the various types of Ozu films, but we didn’t know for sure because it was missing. Then a few years ago, sixteen minutes of the thirty-eight-minute film were re-discovered. Recently, another six minutes were uncovered. The resulting re-assembled and restored twenty-two-minute cut of Ozu’s A Straightforward Boy premieres today on Le Cinema Club.

Essentially, Straightforward Boy is a Japanese riff on O. Henry’s “The Ransom of Red Chief,” but in all honesty, Tetsubo does not seem like such a relentlessly punishing Helion. Nevertheless, he will prove to be too much for Bunkichi and his accomplice to handle. Basic math tells us there is still sixteen minutes missing from Straightforward Boy, but the latest restoration is quite cohesive in terms of narrative—especially by the standards of silent cinema, with no obvious gaps.

Still, it inevitably feels somewhat dated, particularly during the scenes in which Bunkichi tries to buy Tetsubo’s trust with toys and sweets. Frankly, his smarmy leering makes him look like a pedophile on the prowl to contemporary eyes, but that is not Ozu’s problem. It is a problem of our times.

Regardless, Tatsuo Saito definitely has a flamboyantly villainous, Snidely Whiplash kind of thing going on as Bunkichi. Tomio Aoki, who later starred in Ozu’s great classic silent feature I was Born, But… (in which Saito also appeared as his father), is suitably mischievous but not abrasively annoying as Tetsubo.

A Straightforward Boy is a perfectly nice little film, but the best way to see it is as part of a deep dive into Ozu’s collected filmography. In any event, it is great to have even more of it available, so hats off to Le Cinema Club for programming it. Recommended for all fans of Ozu and silent cinema, the freshly restored A Straightforward Boy streams 7/12-7/18.

Japan Speaks Out: The Only Son

Arguably, no filmmaker ever handled father-daughter relationships with the sensitivity Yasujiro Ozu displays in Late Spring, one of his universally acknowledged “Noriko” masterpieces. Of course, he could also do mothers and sons. For Mother’s Day (more or less), Ozu’s very first talkie, The Only Son, screens as part of Japan Speaks Out, MoMA’s current survey of early Japanese talking pictures.

Although Tsune Nonomiya was widowed at an early age, she still manages to scrimp and save from her provincial silk factory job to send her one and only son Ryosuke to middle and high school. Even in 1920s Japan, she understands he will never amount to anything without an education. However, she may very well wonder if it was worth it when she finally visits her grown son in 1936 Tokyo. Much to her surprise, he has a wife and a young son. He has also lost his government job and now works as a night school instructor.

Her visit is awkward for Ryosuke because he knows how disappointed she must be. After all, he is bitterly disappointed in himself. The additional food costs are also an issue. Yet, an opportunity for redemption might arise for Ryosuke—maybe.

Ozu was one of the last major Japanese filmmakers to transition to sound, but arguably it is absolutely essential to his mature style. To fully appreciate the way he uses stillness and silence, you have to sound in order to recognize its absence. Like many of his great classics, Only Son is laden with his elegant visual haikus depicting home and hearth. Yet, there is a harder edge to the Nonomiyas’ story than one typically finds in the Norikos. Despite the trials and tribulations those characters endure, they are a warm, soothing presence. In contrast, it is rather uncomfortable to watch Nonomiya’s reunion with her son.

Chôko Iida’s performance as mother Nonomiya will just rip your heart out and stomp on it, while looking at you with sad eyes. She definitely makes you forget Irene Dunne. Frequent Ozu company player Chishû Ryû further pours on the pained dignity as Ryosuke’s former teacher, who also came to Tokyo brimming with optimism that was soon deflated like Tom Brady game-ball. Shin’ichi Himori is a bit cringey as Ryosuke, but that is sort of the point, while Yoshiko Tusbouchi quietly echoes Iida’s motherly virtue as his submissive wife.

Frankly, any Ozu film is always worth seeing, so if MoMA’s screenings of Only Son are your first opportunity to experience his masterful cinematic touch, by all means take it. Still, if you choose your introductory film at a later date, select one of his later works starring the incomparable Setsuko Hara. Regardless, Only Son paints a grim portrait of dog-eat-dog Tokyo, but it inadvertently captures the sort of generational sacrifice and resiliency that drove Japan’s rise into a global economic power, despite the devastating interruption of WWII. Recommended with all respect due to the master, The Only Son screens this coming Wednesday (5/13) and the following Wednesday (5/20) at MoMA, as part of Japan Speaks Out.

Kiarostami at FSLC: Five Dedicated to Ozu

Yasujiro Ozu had a deft touch when it came to directing children.  It would therefore make perfect sense the auteur’s work has deep resonance for Iranian filmmakers.  Yet, it was the Japanese master’s so-called “pillow shots,” brief but peaceful still life transition images, that inspired Abbas Kiarostami’s tribute Five Dedicated to Ozu (clip here), which screens as part of the Film Society of Lincoln Center’s latest retrospective, A Close-Up of Abbas Kiarostami.

Also known as Five Long Takes Dedicated to Yasujiro Ozu (or simply Five), Kiarostami’s homage deliberately eschews narrative and characterization in favor of pure composition.  Having premiered as a museum installation, it is best considered as part of that experimental genre.  Nonetheless, for admirers of Kiarostami and his protégé Jafar Panahi, it carries additional significance as the film the former shot while they were co-writing Panahi’s politically charged Crimson Gold.

Those five long takes show the Caspian Sea, almost entirely from a fixed vantage point.  In the first scene, we watch the tide drag a piece of driftwood back and forth, for a lulling effect.  The following boardwalk scene also features repetitive motion as indistinct pedestrians walk through the camera’s field of vision.  However, viewers might wonder at various times if perhaps Panahi has just made his reported cameo.  While one would think there is nothing conceivably objectionable in Five, the many uncovered female heads in this scene would most likely be problematic in Kiarostami’s native Iran.  Of course, the pace and meditative vibe of Five provides plenty of time for the audience to wonder about such matters.

Considering the third take features dogs—unclean animals according to the ruling mullahs—Five probably has two strikes going against it.  Presenting the frolicking canines as tiny figures on the horizon, it might be Kiarostami’s most interestingly framed shot, closely resembling an ECM album cover.

For kids who love ducks, Five might just be worth having for the fourth take of duckies waddling across the beach.  Without question, they are the most entertaining part of the film.  For the concluding fifth take, it is frogs that are heard but not seen, as the moon rises and glimmers over the dark sea.

When most Ozu fans watch Five, their thoughts will probably wander to what those great films really mean to them.  As pleasant as they might be, his work is not beloved for the pillow shots Kiarostami has so greatly expanded here.  It is the exquisite dignity of Chishu Ryu’s many father figures, Keiko Kishi’s endearing sexuality in Early Spring, and most of all the legendary work of Setsuko Hara.  To see her in the “Noriko” films is to fall head-over-heels madly in love with her.  It is precisely that humanity that is missing from Five.

Regardless, Kiarostami most likely accomplishes what he set out to do with Five, so here it is.  At least it presents an opportunity for viewers to reflect on their respect and affection for the films of Ozu and Panahi, which is something.  Recommended primarily for patrons of the non-narrative avant-garde, Five Dedicated to Ozu screens this Thursday (2/14) at the Walter Reade Theater, as does recent masterwork, the highly recommended Certified Copy starring the incomparable Juliette Binoche, as part of the Close-Up on Abbas Kiarostami career retrospective.

5 Japanese Divas: Dragnet Girl (Kinuyo Tanaka)

By day, Tokiko works in an office typing pool. By night, she is a gun moll. One has to respect her work ethic. Perhaps most surprisingly, this silent gangster drama was a rare foray into genre cinema from Japanese auteur Yasujiro Ozu. Featuring Kinuyo Tanaka as the bad girl leading a double life, Ozu’s Dragnet Girl screens during the soon to commence 5 Japanese Divas retrospective series, which Film Forum scheduled well in advance of the earthquake and tsunami that shook Japan. However, it serves as a timely reminder of the exceptional films produced by a country that has become one of America’s closest friends and allies.

Like many Ozu films, Dragnet takes us into the world of the Japanese white collar worker. Tokiko is a loyal member of an office typing pool, who frequently receives extravagant gifts from the boss’s son. She tries her best to keep him at arm’s length for the sake of her job. She really does not seem to need it though. Every night she lives the high life with her lover Joji, a former prize fighter turned gangster. Together, they operate a racket Ozu never spells out, but seems to involve her sex appeal and his brawn. They look like a perfect match, but when Joji starts to fall for the “good girl” sister of one of their flunky henchmen, it leads both of them to reconsider their life choices.

Even if Dragnet were not such an unrepresentative film in Ozu’s canon, it would be a fun little gangster film. Indeed, Ozu offers some quite striking film noir shadow play that is nothing like his trademark “tatami-level” shots. Although most analysis of Dragnet emphasizes how it differs from his mature style, there are certain similarities. Though ostensibly a crime drama, Ozu focuses far more on the emotional conflicts within his female characters. While not exactly like his famous transitional still-life shots, he shows the same facility for investing meaning in everyday objects, like the office typewriters neatly covered, or the orderly row of the office workers’ hats hanging on their hooks.

Of course, this is not an Ozu retrospective, but a survey of five superb Japanese actresses: Tanaka, Isuzu Yamada, Machiko Kyo, Setsuko Hara, and Hideko Takamine. Appropriately, Dragnet is a first class showcase for Tanaka, who looks deceptively cute and innocent, but burns up the screen as Tokiko. She covers the full emotional range, ultimately becoming an unlikely combination of Ma Barker and Mother Theresa.

Dragnet is a silent film, but music plays an important role, so Film Forum house pianist Steve Sterner will have a chance to exercise both his jazz and classical chops. Dragnet might be an anomaly within Ozu’s filmography, but it proves he could handle the classic Warner Brothers-esque gangster melodrama, when he chose to. So there. Dapper entertainment from two masters of world cinema (Ozu and Tanaka), Dragnet screens as part of a double bill this coming Monday (4/4) during Film Forum’s 5 Japanese Divas (which kicks off this Friday). After partaking of some great Japanese films, those so moved can support the Red Cross’ efforts in Japan here and find information on the Japan Society’s upcoming (4/9) Concert for Japan benefit here.

Ozu’s Tokyo Story

Thursday is Thanksgiving, a time for families to come together. However, when an aging couple visits their grown children in Tokyo, the experience is more bitter than sweet. Time passes and generations drift apart as they always must in the films of Yasujiro Ozu. Indeed, his universally acknowledged masterpiece Tokyo Story (trailer here) is certainly no exception. The best known of his three “Noriko” films featuring Setsuko Hara as a dutiful daughter of said name, Story begins a special two-week run at the IFC Center this Friday.

Shukichi Hirayama and his wife Tomi live peacefully in a remote coastal village with their youngest daughter Kyôko, an unmarried school teacher. They rarely make the long trek to Tokyo where their eldest son Koichi and daughter Shige work. Though they never say so directly, this trip might be the last time they see them. They will also visit the Noriko, the ever-faithful widow of their middle son who was lost in the war. Unfortunately, the self-absorbed Koichi and Shige neglect their parents during their stay, while only Noriko makes time for her in-laws. Of course, the supposedly mature siblings will realize their short-sightedness, but only when the family reconvenes under sadder circumstances.

Tokyo is a film to make viewers fall in love with Setsuko Hara, either for the first time or all over again. Undeniably a beautiful woman, she radiates a warmth and humanity rarely seen on screen. Of the three Noriko films (also including Early Summer and the truly perfect Late Spring), Tokyo is Hara’s most heartbreaking role. Quiet but powerful and emotionally direct, it is one of the great performances in the history of cinema.

Those who partook of the IFC Center’s Ozu Weekend series will recognize many of his regular staple of players, besides Hara. Once again, Chishu Ryu is the gentle family patriarch, who displays the perfect lived-in comfort level with Cheiko Higashiyama (also the mother of Early Summer) as his wife Tomi. Haruko Sugimura also reappears as the tart-tongued Shige, the sort of role she specialized in for Ozu. Though not part of the unofficial Ozu repertory company, Kyôko Kagawa also is quite touching as the youngest namesake daughter.

Perfectly representative of Ozu’s style, Toyko features his usual landscape and cityscape transitions, as well as an atmosphere of calm resignation, even though society is in a transitional period. Yet throughout it all, post-war life just seems to be too harried for the senior Hirayamas.

There seem to be a number of constants in Ozu’s films. Young boys are always bratty, the prospective of marriage is always complicated, and above all, Hara (particularly as Noriko) always gives a devastatingly heartfelt performance. Despite their similarities, each of Ozu’s family dramas has an infinite richness all its own. Perfect as a capstone to the IFC Center’s celebration of Ozu or as a neophyte’s introduction to the Japanese auteur, Toyko (note the new 35 mm print) opens this Friday (11/26) at the IFC Center.

Ozu at IFC: Late Autumn

It could be considered a case of turn-around being fair play. After appearing in several Yasujiro Ozu films as a daughter needing to be married off, Setsuko Hara finally played a mother trying to make matrimonial arrangements for her own daughter in Ozu’s Late Autumn (trailer here), which screens tomorrow at the IFC Center as part of their ongoing Ozu weekend series.

Though ostensibly based on different source novels, Autumn is clearly a reworking of Ozu’s Late Spring, with Hara assuming the role of the single parent, Akiko Miwa. It is about time her daughter Ayako married and moved out, but the dutiful young woman refuses to leave her mother by herself. However, instead of a gossipy aunt, Akiko has the dubious help of three of her late husband’s old cronies. When the source of Ayako’s objections becomes clear, one of them even starts to get ideas regarding her mother, noting how attractive she still is (yeah, no kidding, she’s Setsuko Hara).

Autumn is one of the films that truly immortalizes Hara’s image as a paragon of virtue. Ever dedicated to her daughter in life while loyal to her husband in death, she personifies domestic goodness. She is also still a radiant screen presence. In contrast, Shin Saburi brings the curmudgeonly charisma in spades as her husband’s friend Soichi Mamiya, essentially reprising his gruff but warmhearted persona from Equinox Flower. Mariko Okada, dubbed “Mad, Bad, and Dangerous” by a Japan Society retrospective earlier in the year, is really none of those things as Akiko’s best friend Yukiko Sasaki. Still, there are times the busybody middle-aged men of Autumn would beg to differ, but her on-screen charm is always totally winning.

Though the parallels with Spring are inescapable, Autumn still holds up on its own even for those who truly adore Ozu’s 1951 masterpiece. Switching Ayako’s surviving parent to a mother (particularly one played by Hara) certainly increases the pathos of their natural parting. Yet, nothing can approach the bittersweet beauty of Spring’s final moments.

As usual, Autumn is punctuated by Ozu’s peaceful transitional shots of home and hearth. A sad but gentle film, it perfectly represents his themes and motifs. It is also underscores Ozu’s stature as the preeminent artistic chronicler of Japan’s middle class, at a time when many were trying to maintain their traditional values while simultaneously enjoying a hard-earned prosperity and respectability. Though maybe not quite the transcendent masterpiece of Spring, Autumn is still a wistfully elegant classic. Recommended as a top-tier Ozu film, it screens this Friday (10/22) through Sunday (10/24) at the IFC Center.

Ozu at IFC: Floating Weeds

In post-war Japan, itinerant actors were rather closer to the bottom of the social ladder than the top. Considered little more than homeless tramps under the best of circumstances, this essentially becomes the reality for a traditional company stranded in a Japanese seaside village. Yet, for one veteran thespian, long neglected family matters become more pressing in Yasujiro Ozu’s Floating Weeds, which screens today at the IFC Center as part of their ongoing Ozu weekend series.

If anything, the economic prospects for a troupe like Komajuro Arashi’s have only gotten worse since 1934, when Ozu first told the story of the high and dry actors in his silent feature A Story of Floating Weeds. For a self-consciously modernizing society, Arashi’s productions seem distinctly old-fashioned. Patrons simply are not coming, except for a handful of old faithful, including Oyoshi, a single mother with whom he has a bit of history. Her son Kiyoshi knows Arashi as “Uncle,” but he is really the young man’s father.

When the company manager absconds with the meager receipts, at least it affords Arashi some time to spend with Oyoshi and his son. Unfortunately, this inflames the jealousy of his lover Sumiko. Out of spite, she bribes her sexpot colleague Kayo to lead on Kiyoshi and then cruelly dump him. Of course, unforeseen complications arise when the actress falls for her prey.

Like Kurosawa and Masumura, Ozu used a regular stable of actors in his films, in both lead and supporting roles. Frequently appearing as meddling aunts and gossipy family friends, Haruko Sugimura has one of her fullest, most sympathetic roles as a member unofficial Ozu repertory playing Oyoshi. Warm and nurturing, but all too conscious of the difficult nature of life, she is a quintessentially Ozu character. By contrast, the seductive Kayo is not exactly Ozu-ian, though Ayako Wakao (dubbed “Mad, Bad, and Dangerous” by the Japan Society in their retrospective earlier this year) was no stranger to sexually charged roles. However, she brings a sort of innocence to Kayo that is ultimately endearing. In the nominal lead, Ganjiro Nakamura holds it all together effectively enough as the gruff but deeply flawed Arashi.

Clearly acclimating to color cinematography, Ozu’s transitional beach and seaside shots have a burnished glow befitting his trademark style. Bittersweet and forgiving, it is yet another classic example of his deeply humanistic filmmaking. Weeds screens again this afternoon and Sunday (10/10) at the IFC Center.

Ozu at IFC: Equinox Flower

As great as so many of Yasujiro Ozu’s films were, most would have been nearly impossible to remake in an American context. Though their settings were contemporary, the sociological details, such as the frequent drama arising from attempts to arrange marriages, would have been nearly impossible to transpose to 1950’s America. Yet, because and despite of their quintessential Japaneseness, Ozu’s film are justly recognized as masterworks of world cinema. Marriage arrangements again play a central role in Equinox Flower, Ozu’s first color film, which screens today at the IFC Center as part of their ongoing Ozu weekend series.

The prosperous Wataru Hirayama is widely respected as a pillar of his community. As a result, his old classmate Mikami trusts him to check up on his daughter Fumiko, who has left home to pursue a relationship he did not sanction. She has fallen for a musician—no further explanation needed there. He also counsels Yukiko, a young friend of the family, who resents her mother’s constant attempts to arrange her marriage. In both cases, he largely sides with the young women, agreeing they should follow their hearts. Of course, that advice is for other people. When his daughter Setsuko chooses her own prospective husband without the benefit of his guidance, he takes it rather badly.

Perhaps no filmmaker made black-and-white film feel as warm and intimate as Ozu. Conversely, in Flower’s early scenes, Ozu’s use of color looks rather pedestrian. However, as the film progresses, the master filmmaker makes evocative use of the bright neon lights of the Ginza district and the lush greens of the golf course (Hirayama’s sanctuary).

Again, the themes might be familiar Ozu territory, but he nimbly navigates the variations, even in color. Perhaps what most distinguishes Flower is the vaguely flirtatious but never inappropriate friendship that develops between Hirayama and Yukiko. It is the kind of sweetly chaste relationship that is so rarely found in film. As Yukiko, Fujiko Yamamoto is indeed a vivacious screen presence, infusing charm and energy in all her scenes. Whereas Sin Saburi is nearly pitch perfect as the grouchy father torn between progress and tradition. It is a deeply humane portrait—the sort of stuff Ozu’s films are made of.

A transitional movie for Ozu (switching to color) about social transition, Flower has an elegant power that transcends cultural boundaries. A masterful film, Flower is an excellent example of Ozu’s sensitive artistry. Warmly recommended, it screens this weekend (10/1-10/3) at the IFC Center.

Ozu at IFC: Tokyo Twilight

Marrying off daughters is a tricky business. Shukichi Sugiyama largely botched the job with his eldest daughter Takako, whereas he might have waited too long with his youngest, Akiko. However, it is mother issues that plague the young women in Yasujiro Ozu’s Tokyo Twilight, which screens this Friday at the IFC Center as part of their continuing Ozu weekend series.

Old man Sugiyama enjoys the company of his daughters, but their domestic lives are out of equilibrium. Takako has left her husband, moving back into her father’s house with her young daughter. Akiko never left, but she is clearly restless. Having fallen in with a fast crowd, she is desperately seeking her no-account boyfriend, which obviously portends bad news. Instead, she finds a mahjong parlor proprietress of roughly the same age as her long deserted mother, who seems to know an awful lot about the family.

Kisako Soma is indeed the girls’ mother. Clearly regretting their separation, she is eager for reconciliation, but her daughters will have none of it. We get the distinct impression there is more to her story of abandonment than meets the eye, but viewers will not get to hear it, since Takako and Akiko are not listening.

Though certainly restrained, Twilight is rather unapologetically melodramatic by Ozu’s standards. Yet, many of his frequent themes reappear in spades. In fact, the closing scene between Takako and her father surprisingly parallels that of Late Spring and Early Summer, though it reaches that point via a more tragic route. Ozu regular Setsuko Hara again personifies filial duty, but she projects an uncharacteristically severe presence as Takako. By contrast, Ineko Arima is hauntingly frail as Akiko, but the film’s real pathos comes from Isuzu Yamada’s moving performance as the prodigal mother Soma. All too aware of her terrible mistakes, she cuts a heartbreaking figure.

Twilight displays all the hallmarks of Ozu’s style, but at a relatively expansive 140 minute running time, there are a few extraneous distractions along the way. Still, when Ozu lowers the emotional boom, it is definitely heavy. As usual, Yuuhara Atsuta’s black and white cinematography has a warm, soothing quality, while also capturing a tactile sense of post-war Japanese daily life. Though Hara again demonstrates a movie star command of the screen, it is Yamada’s devastating work that really distinguishes Twilight. A worthy representative of the auteur’s body of work, Twilight screens this weekend (9/24-9/26) at the IFC Center.

Ozu at IFC: Early Spring

In post-war Japan, being a “salaryman” is a double-edged sword. They have a steady income and responsibilities, but no readily definable skill-set, which castsdoubt on their long-term security. Such is the reality for Shoji Sugiyama and his colleagues in Yasujiro Ozu’s Early Spring, the Japanese equivalent of The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit that screens this Friday at the IFC Center as part of their Ozu weekend series.

Sugiyama and his wife Masako seem to have a model marriage, but there are cracks beneath the surface. Having lost their only child years ago to a mysterious illness, she rarely joins him when he socializes with his work colleagues. Unfortunately, this allows an opportunity for things to develop between Sugiyama and Chiyo Kaneko, an extremely cute typist nicknamed “Goldfish” for her strikingly large eyes. While often claiming to visit his sick friend Miura with his jaundiced former mentor Onodera, Sugiyama half-heartedly falls into an affair with the more enthusiastic other woman. Of course, tongues start to wag, which ultimately causes trouble for both Goldfish and Sugiyama.

Unlike his domestic masterworks, Early Spring often feels rather emotionally distant. Even Ozu’s signature still life interior shots feel distinctly colder and less inviting. Arguably, this is largely due to the aloofness of Ryô Ikebe as Sugiyama, Ozu’s Tom Rath. Frankly, it is hard to understand how any woman would be attracted to him, let alone the stunning Keiko Kishi as Goldfish.

Yet, Ozu, the actor’s director, still draws out some exceptional performances from his supporting cast. Counterbalancing Ikebe’s persistent reserve, Chikage Awashima presents an emotionally complex portrait of the increasingly frustrated Masko. Serving as the film’s holy fool, Chishû Ryû finely balances cynicism and humanity as the crafty but deeply flawed Onodera, while Kishi is both convincingly seductive and spirited as the other woman.

In a filmography largely consisting of masterpieces and masterworks, Early Spring does not have quite the same heft (despite being one of Ozu’s longer film at 126 minutes). While most of his domestic dramas might arguably be predictable, Early Spring feels more conspicuously so. Still, a minor Ozu eclipses most auteurs’ crowning achievements. He certainly captures a tactile sense of the conformity of the salaryman’s life as well as Japan’s budding spirit of corporate fidelity that would become celebrated during the country’s 1980’s boom times. Definitely worth seeing for Kishi alone, Early Spring screens this weekend (9/17-9/19) at the IFC Center.

Ozu at IFC: Late Spring

This might sound familiar. A daughter in her late twenties named Noriko is pressured to marry by her family. Like Early Summer’s Noriko, she even has a best friend named Aya. While the parallels are strong, each is an elegant variation on the themes of master Japanese filmmaker Yasujiro Ozu. Following last week’s screening Summer, the second film of his so-called “Noriko Trilogy,” the IFC Center presents the first Noriko picture, Late Spring (1949), as part of their continuing Ozu weekend series.

Though widowed, Professor Somiya lives a pleasant, comfortable life with his devoted daughter Noriko. She in turn, wants nothing more from life than what she already has. However, when her aunt starts buzzing in the professor’s ear about potential matches, he agrees it is probably time for her to marry. Noriko is not convinced, believing her father would be helpless without her. When he presses the issues, she becomes resentful, but as is often the case in Ozu’s films, the seasons will change, whether we want them to or not.

Like in 1951’s Summer, it is hard to believe a parade of suitors has not camped out in front of the Somiya home. Setsuko Hara had an endearing screen presence and an eerie, hard-to-describe beauty. In Spring, she is both more dutiful and a bit more sassy than later Norikos, but they were all quietly powerful performances.

In comparison to later Noriko films, Spring features a relatively small cast of characters, but their relationships are deep and rich. In particular, keep an eye on Yumeji Tsukioka as Noriko’s friend Aya (Kitagawa). Her delicately turned scene with the old Professor late in the film is quite touching, conveying so much life experience, so simply.

Again, Spring is classic example of Ozu’s eye for still life and interior shots. Nobody could convey the warmth of domestic settings as effectively. Through his lens a simple shot of some magazines falling off a chair expresses volumes.

Spring is a truly beautiful film, featuring a haunting lead performance from Hara. Depicting generational conflict and evolving gender roles during Japan’s tumultuous post-war years with quiet sensitivity, it is one of several Ozu masterpieces everyone should see. It screens this weekend, Friday (9/3) through the bonus Labor Day Monday, at the IFC Center.

Ozu at IFC: Early Summer

Sorry, no CGI or 3D here, just family drama of a universal nature. Few directors handled such material as assuredly as Yasujiro Ozu. For a prime example, check out Ozu’s Early Summer, now screening at the IFC Center as part of their ongoing Ozu weekend series.

Life is realistically pleasant for the Mamiya family. The eldest son Koichi is a doctor, married to the dutiful Fumiko. They live with his parents, their two young mischievous sons, and his younger sister Noriko. There is someone missing though: the younger brother still listed as missing in action, several years after the war. His fate remains a source of pain for the Mamiya parents, but it has dulled with the passage of time (a major Ozu theme). In fact, they have more immediate concerns, like that unmarried twenty-eight year-old daughter of theirs. It turns out they are not the only ones considering her matrimonial prospects, starting with her matchmaker boss.

In many ways, Summer is a perfectly representational Ozu film, featuring a relatively large ensemble cast in an intimate family setting. As in next week’s Late Spring, the plot is driven by attempts to marry off a daughter named Noriko played by Ozu regular Setsuko Hara. It also features two willful young boys, who come across a bit brattier than the brothers of I Was Born But . . . It also features his trademark still shots that in Summer (as well as Spring) evoke a feeling of comfort and security in the characters’ working middle class homes. Ozu’s pacing is gentle and reassuring with important events often happen off-screen, as they usually do in real life.

Of course, it is hard to imagine either Noriko lacking a parade of suitors. A radiant screen presence, Hara was dubbed the “Eternal Virgin” in Japan, largely for her roles of familial fidelity in Ozu’s films. (She also played the assertive, morally ambiguous lead in Akira Kurosawa’s unfairly dismissed adaptation of The Idiot, almost single handedly rescuing the troubled production.) Indeed, she had a pure but earthy beauty, like a Japanese Loretta Young. Her performance as Summer’s Noriko is lovely, charming, and ultimately quite human.

However, in Summer Hara has plenty of support, including small but endearing turns from a spirited Chikage Awashima as her decidedly single best friend Aya and Shûji Sano as her slightly goofy but well meaning boss Satake.

Though hardly a conflict driven plot, Ozu still keeps us engaged thanks to the ever present sense of tempus fugit. Time passes and it is clear these mostly idyllic moments will not last forever. Wise and sensitive, Summer is a pleasure to watch quietly unfold. A good place to start appreciating the work of both Ozu and Hara, it screens today (8/28) and tomorrow morning at the IFC Center.

Ozu’s I Was Born But . . .

Though the talky era was well underway internationally, the Japanese film industry still produced silent films well into the 1930’s. Director Yasujiro Ozu was particularly slow to embrace synchronized sound, yet he would eventually be hailed as Japan’s great auteur. In fact, his reputation partly rests on his late silent films, including 1932’s I Was Born But . . ., which opens in New York at the IFC Center this Friday.

On the surface, life is good for the Yoshi family. Kennosuke has bought a home out in the Tokyo suburbs, where his two mischievous sons, Ryoichi and Keiji, will have more room to run wild. It will also be more convenient for sucking up to his boss, Iwasaki, who lives nearby. At first, the headstrong brothers have trouble adapting to their new school, landing themselves in big trouble when they play hooky one day.

Nevertheless, they quickly rise to their rightful place as top dogs of the neighborhood boys. Yet, all their social assumptions are challenged one night when they get an uncomfortably candid look at their father currying favor with his boss. Feeling publically humiliated, they rebel against Yoshi’s parental authority. While their father resents their resentment, he also partly shares their contempt, but such are the realities of life, as seen through Ozu’s gently subversive lens.

Pulling off a delicate balancing act, Ozu never lets the scenes with the boys get too slap-sticky, nor his social commentary become too pointed. Essentially, he presents an early step in the Yoshi brothers’ maturation, but not a shattering end to their innocence.

Indeed, Ozu brought a highly sensitive eye to bear on Born, coaxing charming performances his young actors. Often unfairly overlooked in discussions of the film, Tatsuo Saito and Mitsuko Yoshikawa also bring a genuine sense of humanity to the family drama as the boys’ ever-patient parents.

Even if his visuals are not exactly arresting, it is a very welcome event to have Ozu’s closely observed masterwork digitally restored. However, while the accompanying soundtrack may well be perfectly fine and respectable, it is not the best music available for Born. Eri Yamamoto’s latest release In Every Day Something Good includes her original alternate soundtrack to the silent classic that is far more expressive of the characters’ personalities and the film’s overall spirit. Happily, she will be playing her regular sets at Arthur’s, practically right around the corner from the IFC Center on Grove Street this Friday and Saturday, so theater patrons can hear the difference for themselves.

Wistful rather than cute, the subtly winning Born is one of the last classics of the silent era. A fitting introduction to Ozu’s canon, it opens this Friday (6/25) at IFC’s Waverly outpost.