Oh and I should reprint the responses from the old thread.
Tom
I’m one of those, “I don’t watch as many movies as some of you guys” However, I think that whatever the director thinks of the film and whatever the audience member/critic thinks of the film are two different things. If the director is proud of the work, to SOME extent, so am I.
Robert W Peabody III
I think I’ve seen I few missteps, but not seeing that film in its entirety I can not comment except to say when you change an element in a film, it is perhaps like the proverbial butterfly wing causing a tsunami somewhere else.
ralch
I agree with you on Tokyo Twilight in particular and the “cutting some slack” thing one does with certain directors. I try to avoid it but probably do it too. In the case of Ozu, me being a heartfelt fan of Tokyo Story, I really wanted to like Tokyo Twilight as much, and it is a good film, but it was not to the other one’s level, in my opinion. I appreciate Ozu’s sobriety when dealing with human interactions in general and among family members in particular, but this specific film felt too calculated in its melodramatic structure. It seems to depend too much on regularly administered doses of new revelations of the family’s past, which gave the screenplay a rather sensationalistic feel. That does not contrast too well with the sometimes muted emotions one sees in specific situations of a highly dramatic nature. The mother’s reaction you mention is such a case. Even worse is when Tekako gives her the shattering news near the end and then proceeds to accuse her of her fault. Again, hardly any reaction. Maybe it was intentional as a comment on a generational gap or parents’ lack of empathy towards their offspring, but it did not work me at a visceral level and seemed emotionally incoherent with what the movie had presented before. Much more effective had been the face of the mother when she first sees Akiko. I was not too crazy either about the reductive nature of the statements regarding Akiko’s emotional development. It seemed simplistic to me.
Rüdiger Tomczak
I don´t agree.
Ah how ironic! I picked that film for the world cup because it struck me as more impassioned than many others by Ozu- maybe that was because it hit on certain tough themes and conflicts, taking a sympathetic view of youthful turmoil v what might often be regarded in his oeuvre as wise parental controls and behaviour. He was usually nuanced anyway. His films overall carry a range of views, mainly observed with understatement and without passing strong judgment, we see people with their Renoir-like reasons. Now i’ve sometimes had to defend Mizoguchi against charges of being too melodramatic, and therefore far inferior to Ozu and Naruse, and here we have a criticism of Ozu for being too understated, in one of my favourites by him.
I have to say i will need to see not only the scene but the whole film again. I think i may have mentally noted the mother’s surprising lack of shock and emotional response, not sure what i attributed it to. I’m also usually very alert on such issues, mother-child reunions being presented unconvincingly as in Secrets and Lies. I would say a mother can push maternal feelings aside but you would expect some instant reaction, even if then covered up in platitudes etc
Anyway, life does have strong emotional expressions and hysteria. Mizoguchi was himself slashed on the back by a prostitute girlfriend with a razor and suspended from directing for a while in the mid 20s. He knew life wasn’t all subtle understatement. This is why i find Bresson so irritating; his modelling ideas work better in theory than practice, Rohmer is more subtle and truthful i think; his style allows us to concentrate on small gestures and details without drawing attention to himself as a grand auteur
I do find Ozu’s preference for minimal affect from his actors to be occasionally offputting, since it seems contrary to my experience of how people respond emotionally. By that I mean the human face has an enormous expressive ability and even when people are trying to shield their emotions some small cues can slip through giving us insight into the inner feelings of the person in question. With Ozu’s work, the trouble for me is that the actors vary in the amount they withhold, some are more expressive, in a minimalist sense, than others so that can throw off the reading of some scenes for me initially. The one you reference isn’t actually a scene that causes me any problems, but it occasionally does happen.
That said, I don’t really find this to be very much of a problem overall, especially not on second viewings when one is accustomed to the issue. The general concept of minimal affect seems to suit Ozu’s purposes very well, in fact it is, I think, a necessity meant to shift the emphasis from internal drama of single characters to the larger social interactions between the various characters in the films. It helps remove any over-identification one might feel for a single character and makes the viewer look at the entire scene instead.
It also suggests that, socially, the inner feelings are less important than actions one takes because of them, or perhaps less important is the wrong term, maybe it’s just that they are unknowable to others so we respond to peoples actions in lieu of that knowledge, which is, in large part, what leads to many of the problems in Ozu’s films and in life. It is the reticence people have to share their thoughts or fully express their feelings that causes so many misunderstandings. So, in that way, it makes sense for Ozu to want less expressiveness since to do otherwise would diminish the subtleties of his creations.
Or to put it another way, compare Ozu to Sirk who often filmed somewhat similar melodramas involving social pressures and misunderstandings. Sirk’s characters are much more expressive and as a result, I think we have a stronger tendency to identify with their wants rather than the complexities of their situations. Our involvement with the individual changes our understanding of the group, there is a clearer sense of “rightness” and “wrongness” than there is in Ozu and we accept more extravagant events or responses as “natural” in the Sirkian world than we would in Ozu’s. Which is all well and good, but it is limits Sirk’s films to being coded as camp by some and being taken less seriously than Ozu’s. (That seriously oversimplifies the issue, but Sirk piles one exaggerated effect on top of another in order to achieve a sort of normalcy in his films that Ozu generally can avoid.)
Mentioning Sirk does point to one problem I had with Tokyo Twilight though. Akiko was hit by a train and still able to linger on for awhile with nothing more serious appearing than a fever? That seemed like something that could have come from a Sirk melodrama rather thanin Ozu’s more subdued world.
I don’t know if any of that goes directly to your question or not, but it’s my initial impressions anyway.
(Reposted from dead thread.)
Generally i find Ozu’s understatement credible and admirable rather than off-putting like Bresson, and it can engender great power; a smile by Hara Setsuko can seem to have so many possible meanings and underlying feelings. Now in Tokyo Twilight it’s perfectly believable that the mother might adopt a defence mechanism of apparent nonchalance or have even pushed painful strong emotions underground but i would agree that there would probably be an easily recognisable flicker (and more) of expression in the first instance. But maybe that gets passed over with the film’s other strengths and our involvement in it.
There is a tendency to equate melodrama, even by artful directors, with Hollywood overstatement, when it should be a more highly prized genre. I hope this is just a fashion issue. Ophuls, Sternberg, as well as Mizoguchi, are among the greats i.m.o
“This was a misstep for Ozu, what do you guys think?”
No.
@Blue K: A couple of issues I have with your reading:
1) The mother already knows Takako is in the area and is aware of her. I think she knew it was her daughter on sight, before Takako even opened her mouth.
2) You think the mother reacted with calm, but I saw an exploding volcano beneath the surface.
It’s funny, but I was just talking about this very issue with someone the other day, so it’s a topic that’s fresh in my mind. The question is whether what Gringo sees is actually being conveyed or if he, as one amongst many many others, is reading emotions into the mothers expression that aren’t “there” in any way other than as an assumption of how someone would or should respond to such a meeting, or are the expressions actually “there” and some people just can’t see them directly since they aren’t conveyed in a direct enough manner. I don’t really have an answer for that since I think both understandings are completely reasonable.
A complicating factor is that when Ozu has a character reveal some emotionally powerful information, or, in this case, reveal their presence and knowledge of another’s identity, he often frames the person receiving the information in a sort of medium close up, as if inviting us to look for some change of expression or physical signal to indicate the importance of this information on that person. By doing so, I think we are likely to project ourselves into the scene in a way that wouldn’t be necessary in a more emotive context. By that I mean we aren’t using the character’s emotions as a signal to our own as we might do in something like Imitation of Life, but we are imbuing the character with emotions that are and/or are not present in the performance thus lending it more “reality” or credence in a way since we can arrange the emotions to suit what we believe would be the proper ones to have which makes Ozu’s characters more likely to match our presumptions and seem more real.
At times, this hasn’t worked for me at all. There was a scene, for example, in, I believe, An Autumn Afternoon where the father reveals some, what would be devastating information to his daughter while we watch her listen with a sort of half smile on her face. It really struck me as an inappropriate or unlikely response to the situation, even assuming a more general reticence towards showing emotions. Unfortunately, I can’t remember the context any more than that, or even with absolute certainty if that is the proper film, but I only mention it to say there are times when I absolutely agree with Blue K’s feelings on this, even if the example he chose didn’t feel the same to me at all.
About emotions and how Ozu is dealing in TOKYO BOSHOKU with emotions. First of all and thats the esential element in this (is still call it) masterpiece. The whole city as a part of the world how it is presented in this film documents the failure of most of the characters to DEAL with their emotions. Indead how they express them or not looks like fake. But the world Ozu shows in TOKYO BOSHOKU is a deformed one. The character of Chishu Ryu is deformed by two traumatical events, the war and the seperation from his wife. It makes no sense to compare this film with other films by Ozu neither with other likely melodramatized films. It is probably the only film where the even the least communication among the family member failes. Especially the mother-daughter relationships are the most alienated in Ozus work.
At whole the dramatic concept is (the same with the funny bar music you hear always) that there is an intended gap between what the people say and the much more complicated and contadictional feeelins they have and from what Ozu gives only an idea which makes the film even darker, almost uncanny. I saw that film about 7 times and I admit that it is hard to bear. But I still think it proves how complex Ozu view on the modern Japan is, much much more than the so-called Ofuna Nouvelle Vague with Oshima and these guys.
Yes and that difficulty in communication, darkness and alienation undermine the political pigeonholing of Ozu into one of uncritical Conservative acceptance; he may be a much loved wise observer but there can be a bleakness too, and a whole gamut of variations, from different angles, on the main theme of family relationships.
Sorry, but Ozu is anything else than accepting conservative acceptance. I know everyy single surivived film by Ozu that means the diversity of currents in his work. Like I mentioned TOKYO BOSHOKU and Ozus whole work is much much more complex.
For understanding Ozu, we have to consider that he waas early in his life part of this kind of intellectuals who applauded the westernisation in Japan. But he also was the only japanese director who remained very reserved against propaganda. In fact he never made one.
The image of postwar japan Ozu is presenting in TOKYO BOSHOKU consists on two evel facts:
The war and the postwar westernisation.
Even if Ozu as an individual not responsible for the war, it is his generation.
Obviously as part of a special generation who created Japans westernisation and war, TOKYYO BOSHOKU can be seen as well as Ozus most self-critical film.
It’s funny, but I was just talking about this very issue with someone the other day, so it’s a topic that’s fresh in my mind. The question is whether what Gringo sees is actually being conveyed or if he, as one amongst many many others, is reading emotions into the mothers expression that aren’t “there” in any way other than as an assumption of how someone would or should respond to such a meeting, or are the expressions actually “there” and some people just can’t see them directly since they aren’t conveyed in a direct enough manner.
These emotions are conveyed very directly through the mise-en-scene. The 180 degree shot/reverse shot of mother and daughter when they first sit down are of their profiles as both look offscreen to the right. It’s highly unsettling because it violates Ozu’s style and serves to isolate the characters.
Yes i’m saying the image of Ozu as an accepting Conservative is completely misleading; this may stem from the ludicrous notion that family matters are mainly a Conservative issue. Tony Rayns has described Early Spring as a very Conservative film, while praising others by Ozu- and note that it came out only a year before Tokyo Twilight
In case I wasn’t clear, I don’t disagree at all regarding the status of Tokyo Twilight as a great film and I agree wholeheartedly with what is being said regarding the difficulties in communication, although I don’t think it is an exceptionally uncommon theme, Twilight does carry to a further degree than is usual.
I do have some disagreement about whether this film can be compared to other melodramas though, especially since the idea of what constitutes a melodrama seems to exist on a plot level. That is the narrative events seem to be the primary determinant of what is classified as a melodrama. If this is the case, then I can see no reason why Tokyo Twilight couldn’t be profitably contrasted to other films of that genre.That it is better than most of them is not really the issue so much as the way it transmits its themes and concerns. The reason I take some small issue with separating Twilight from other melodramas is that many films in that genre also have much deeper concerns than their surface concerns would admit and that being the case I’m a little wary when people try to peel films away from the genre as being somehow beyond it since that tends to marginalize an often misunderstood group of films. My apologies if this was not what was being said, but I am a little protective of the genre since so many films I value are a part of it.
I have no problem with the genre melodrama and indead TOKYO TWILIGHT refers and uses elements of meoldramas. But indead, Tokyo Twilight, like most of Ozus films from up to 1932 can´t be fixed in a special genre and I think this film remains one of the strongest film about urban alienation. And then even more import than his refernces to Melodrama is how Ozu forced his typical family construction into the extreme.
I think another key element in this films are the long gaps of silence and how they are placed is from a distubing kind, I have never seen before and after.
Gringo, I agree that the scene is loaded with emotion and with your interpretation of the mise-en-scene is fine by me as well, but what I was trying to get at is the way we determine with some specificity which emotions are being rendered isn’t quite so clear. Things we may normally look for in facial expressions or in the characters actions are not as present in Ozu’s films which leaves the viewer in a different position than they might be in a scene by someone like Sirk or whoever else you may choose. I don’t mean that as a negative but it is a marked difference and it’s one that carries some interesting implications for how we watch films and what we are valuing in them as well as how we interpret behaviors.
Rüdiger, Ah, I see. I fully accept that without any problem.
I chalked that scene up to a) the mother has decidedly mixed feelings about seeing her daughter again since she, you know, abandoned them (and the mother can see her daughter’s not exactly thrilled to see her), and b) a cultural difference about big pulic dispalys of emotion. The mother deals with what must be conflicting emotions by retreating to social politeness. I found that to be very human.
@ Gringo,
“These emotions are conveyed very directly through the mise-en-scene. The 180 degree shot/reverse shot of mother and daughter when they first sit down are of their profiles as both look offscreen to the right. It’s highly unsettling because it violates Ozu’s style and serves to isolate the characters.”
Yes! Thank you for bringing this up, because I noticed how unusual this scene was for the exact reason you mentioned. But while I agree that the way the scene was shot does go against Ozu’s usual style and is unsettling, I’m not sure if I can still agree that “these emotions are conveyed very directly through the mise-en-scene.” Why? Your rather keen observation and interpretation founded on sound theory presuppose an intimate ACADEMIC understanding of film criticism and of Ozu’s works. What about for the “philistines” who do not know what an 180 degree rule is, and who do not know that Ozu shot the scene in a manner atypical for him? Can emotions really be “conveyed directly” through the technical aspects of the mise-en-scene?
@Sottbateman,
Yes, the mother definitely retreats to social politeness in order to deal with conflicting emotions, and this is very human. I guess, it’s the very first moment of the encounter that I’m really concerned with though. That the mother could almost instantaneously resort to this kind of social politeness without betraying a hint of the conflicting and overwhelming emotions (at least none that is visible to the viewer)—what Gringo has termed “exploding volcano beyond the surface”—just seems a bit unnatural to me.
“Can emotions really be ‘conveyed directly’ through the technical aspects of the mise-en-scene?”
In some sense I agree with you, and Greg, Blue. Ozu was never a director that liked his characters to tell you what was on their mind, especially in scenes of intense emotion. That is why Tokyo Twilight overall feels somewhat like an oddity. The lead character in the film, Akiko (played wonderfully by Ineko Arima), is quite possibly the most emotionally honest character in all of his late works. She routinely says exactly what she feels, exactly what she needs, she tells the people she loves exactly what’s wrong with her (other than her father). In a film that, unlike any other Ozu film, is completely honest with the goings on of the internal conflict of its subject it does seem unnatural to have a more “classic” Ozu scene placed right in the middle.
However, Ozu was always incredible at having characters faces say what they don’t. The entire conflict in films like Late Spring, Early Spring, There Was a Father, etc… are built around what characters don’t say to each other (usually until the climactic scene in the film) not what they tell each other, and this is somewhat true for Tokyo Twilight, also. I think this scene is a little less believable than it could have been, and I think the entire film is a little bit more contrived than most of his other late works, but it’s still one great film.
Generally said, Ozu tried with TOKYO BOSHOKU something different. There some Ozus I love more but to understand really a phenomen like Ozu, these extreme films are very important. At least it proves that Ozu was until his very lasst film as wwell an experimental filmmaker. I still woul like to call this film a shock waave in Ozus work.
It seems to me that there are two different arguments being made here and that both of them hold some weight. Gringo seems to be suggesting that the emotions of the scene, or the fuller effect of the emotions, are conveyed more than adequately by the totality of the films effects, while Blue K seems to be suggesting that even though the emotional impact is there, there is still something unsettling about seeing a human acting in a way that is perhaps not as fully “realistic” or natural as one would experience in life and that can create a distraction even though the other elements of the scene might be conveying the emotional message effectively, or even powerfully.
Please feel free to correct me if I’m misstating either sides thoughts on this, but that’s how I have been framing the discussion.
If that is the case, then the question would be whether the people in the film need be represented in a fully realistic fashion or whether a slightly stylized manner may actually work as, or more, effectively and not cause too much dissonance. If not that, then there is simply a disagreement on whether the mother’s reaction is emotionally accurate in regards to the emotions of the event in which case the focus would, I think, be on Isuzu Yamada’s performance what she is doing and what someone outside of a film is likely to do if they were in her position. Tied up in that, of course, is the question of whether Tokyo Twilight is intended to be, or should be seen as a film trafficking in realism, and what an answer either way would mean.
(Edit)
Film est Mort, I am somewhat conflicted on the question, most of the time I have no trouble with the acting or style at all, but the few times I do it really throws me. I do still wonder how much of the emotions we think, or I think, I see in the actors is really just my projection of what I think they should be feeling rather than anything actually being done. Not that there would necessarily be anything wrong with that if it increases the impact of the film, but it would suggest a greater divergence in understanding Ozu’s films than there would be about many other directors.
The issue I have with the muted emotions in Tokyo Twilight is that it is not a uniformed style throughout the movie. Sometimes the characters keep their misery to themselves, other times they (especially the daughters) burst into tears. I think this might be intentional as a comment of a generational gap and an overall lack of empathy (not love) the older generations showed to their offspring. Even if I feel turned off because I am not used to such a style, my mind could fill the gap and accept it.
What I find more difficult to assimilate is the (in my mind) incoherence between the overall melodramatic structure of the screenplay, which seems designed to detonate our emotions on a regular basis through new revelations (actually, not just with the family’s past, as I had said, but also with the pregnancy and all that surrounded it), and this lack of emotion, especially by the elders. (SPOILER:) When Tekako anounces Akiko’s death, it is an effectively hard-hitting moment, but, I feel, disastrously followed by that “It’s your fault” statement. I feel it is disastrous because it is an attempt to reduce Akiko’s complex alienation into a simplistic parental absence cause, something which is corroborated by the dialogue between Tekako and her father later on.
About the script it is said that it was the only time Ozu and Noda had an disagreement. The special thing in this film is, that Ozu tried to leave his pattern all the methods which got in his careers an almost uncanny perfection. Without putting TOKYO TWILIGHT against Ozus other (at least 11) masterpieces, he tried here a demontage of the quite fixed image he had, just after his great and commercial most succesful post war film SOSHUN.
Just this courage to deconstruct his famous style demands respect.
On the other hand, Ozu was never dogmatic and he never followed sklavic a kind of NOTES ABOUT THE KINEMATOGRAPH.
True, Rüdiger, and Ozu has my respect without any hesitation, but intention is not the same as result. Maybe he nailed it for you, but, despite his best intentions, his results left me a bit underwhelmed. I think that delves into what Blue K had mentioned initially about the possibility of giving certain directors a free pass. It’s not a accusation, mind you, but just an observation about a general tendency many of us may have with our favorites.
It is true, Ozu is like Ford something like a holy cow for me. But there are even some films by Ozu, I see rather critically. Among them such famous films like I WAS BORN, BUT… or RECORD OF A TENEMENT GENTLEMEN. And considering my admiration for Ozu, on A HEN IN THE WIND I would let hardly a hair. I am just not convinced the the critic points here. If this film doesn´t work for everybody, there is nothing I can do about it. For me and just about alienation which is only one aspect of this film this film is there where people like Edward Yang or Tsai Ming Liang will never reach. There is a nice sentence from a critic which I will try to find and which was for me the best thing I ever heard about this film.
Rüdiger, you’re so right about Yang and Tsai not being able to get to the same depth of understanding about alienation or despair. Yang seems far too much of an optimist for that, his films seem to have a little bit of a wink to them, a lightness that keeps the emptiness of solitude from becoming fully alienating, and Tsai is far too romantic to give in to despair, his characters don’t seem to ever really relinquish hope and expectation of something better coming along. I generalize of course, and I don’t think that’s a failing for either of them, since I love films by both of them, but it is a definite limitation to their world views.
@Greg X
I would mention as an exception Yangs TAIPAI STORY which has for me a lot to do with TOKYO BOSHOKU.
By the way, Thanks to Blue K. for this thread which proves again that the AWC initiates a lot of discussions about films.
@ Rudiger, thank you and others for the enlightening discussion!
I’m grateful for the AWC because I’d seen Tokyo Twilight only once before, and the competition made me feel compelled to watch it again, and more carefully.
I’ve seen most the Ozu available in Canada (including the silents). Many of them remain vivid in my memory, but Tokyo Twilight doesn’t. What I do remember about it is the feeling it was more ‘plotted’ than Ozu’s other films, as though he’d imposed events upon the characters rather than letting them muddle through, as they usually do. It seemed less about universals of human nature and more about peculiar things happening to particular humans. It’s not one of my favourites.
Blue K, Custodian of the Cinema
I initially put this thread in the wrong section with a completely mis-worded title as well. Anyway, here it is again in the proper Tokyo Twight subsection, just in case people missed it.
Now this isn’t just some wild troll-like stab to try to discredit an established master. But I do wonder if some directors have become such sacred cows that we give them a free pass even when they obviously mishandle certain aspects in their work.
The particular problem I have with Ozu’s Tokyo Twilight is the handling of the encounter between the older daughter Takako (Setsuko Hara) and her mother who ran off with another man some 20 years ago and left behind her husband, two daughters, and son. The scene strikes such a false note with me, I really wonder if Ozu didn’t really understand some aspects of the human experience that well,
Takako, after learning that her mother is back in Tokyo and running a mahjong parlor, decides to go see her to tell her to not to reveal to the Akiko, the younger daughter, that she is her mother. So Takako walks into the parlor, and the mother doesn’t even have an idea who she is until Takako says, “Mother? I’m Takako.”
Now think about what this must be like for the mother. Takako can control her emotions and facial expressions somewhat because she has mentally braced herself for this surprise visit. But the mother just got what is probably the biggest surprise of her life. Just imagine the gamut of emotions that she must be overwhelmed with. But how does the mother react?
Almost with superhuman imperturbable calm and an “oh, my is that you?” kind of pleasant surprise that would be reserved for maybe old neighbors and high school classmates. I mean, wouldn’t she at least be at a loss for words for a moment? Wouldn’t her face just kind of freeze in disbelief? Or maybe she’d react with surprise, horror (from guilt and shame), joy (she is her mother after all)… I mean something besides this very natural calmness.
Yes, I realize that Ozu was all about subdued human emotions and subtlety—that in his films, people don’t break down and sob or start screaming at each other at the top of their lungs a la Cassavetes. But this just strikes as either false or clueless, doesn’t it? And this is what the mother actually says to Takako.
“It was nice of you to come.”
I hear you’re a mother now too. You have a daughter? She must be cute."
What? This sounds like a Facebook chat I once had with a high school classmate!
Just so that I’m not taking the scene out of context, those of you who have seen the film can watch the scene right here.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A5s6etKDvd0&feature=PlayList&p=453890985D189C19&index=6
It starts around the 6:30 mark.
Don’t get me wrong. The film itself, besides that scene, is vintage Ozu genius. But since the mother-daughters relationship is one of the core issues of the film, when a crucial scene like this is so poorly handled, I just feel like I have to take issue with it. Perhaps, as he did in Tokyo Story with the death of the mother, he should have just left this scene out of the diegesis of the film and just referred to it.
Now there is another possible factor at play—that Japan, as a society, does frown upon public displays of emotions. This isn’t just a mere cultural stereotype. It takes a 55 minute ferry ride to get from Fukuoka, Japan to Pusan, Korea. But you will see a pronounced difference in the level and the amount of public displays of emotion. However, cultural trait doesn’t override fundamental human experience and emotions. Think of how the characters do emote in Mizoguchi’s films for example.
This was a misstep for Ozu, what do you guys think?