Laurence Olivier in William Wyler’s “Carrie.” Watching him in this film is as close to total empathy as you can get.
Ryu so often gets under the skin of his characters without histrionics (which of course suits the Ozu way), a few years later he was convincing as an old man and Hara’s father-in-law in Tokyo Story, yet he was also fine as her older brother, in between, in Early Summer. See him too for other directors in Ornamental Hairpin and Twenty Four Eyes, though that’s Takamine’s film.
Haven’t seen The Fallen Idol or Carrie, but I’ll certainly check them out…Love Richardson in Home with Gielgud, and Olivier in Spartacus – great nose.
@Kenji Yeah, he’s remarkable, believable as the father in one film and the brother in another, of the same actress. Haven’t seen those Takamine films though, but I’ll definately check them out, thanks.
Ozu generally cast to suit the actor’s character and looks more than for the actor to take a big leap (not too radical an approach!), but of course there are interesting variations. In Twenty Four Eyes Ryu is a teacher on an island in the Inland Sea, with the late Takamine Hideko having the main role as the likeable young teacher of a class of 12, opposed to militarism in the years leading up to WW2, and then we see what becomes of those first pupils in the years beyond. A very popular sentimental success. Ornamental Hairpin is a great film, by Shimizu, which i expect most Ozu and Ryu admirers will like.
Superb, many thanks for the recommendations.
I second the praise for Richardson in Fallen Idol- fine film. In Carrie, also well worth seeing even though often considered minor Wyler, i must admit i was more taken with Jennifer Jones than Olivier’s performance but maybe expectations are higher for him
one famous classic British actor i’ve greatly admired who managed despite his fame to be something of a chameleon, is Alec Guinness. With Olivier, even when playing down and muted, it’s hard to forget the strut
I thought Jones performance in “Carrie” was low voltage, except at the finish. I thought Olivier was heartbreaking.
She was a little insecure for me and he was exploratory in a way that he had never been before.
Another great British actor, as long as we are entering this field, Trevor Howard. Watch him in “Sons and Lovers” and “The Third Man” and “Outcast of the Islands” and “Brief Encounter” and on and on.
Oh yes, Outcast of the Islands, i’m glad that’s in the Directors Cup. There’s a very credible cynical edge to his persona sometimes but he was tender in Brief Encounter (which i found maudlin). They Made me a Fugitive is among the best British attempts at Noir (well, more than an attempt, that’s unkind) in the 40s.
You’re not alone in rating Olivier’s performance in Carrie so highly, i think with me it’s partly a blind spot based on prior knowledge of him, one of the problems with casting famous people.
James Devereaux
This week, I watched Yasujiro Ozu’s 1949 masterpiece, Late Spring, and was immediately captivated by the performance of Ozu regular, Chishu Ryu, who plays a widower called Professor Somiya, and spends most of the film trying to get his daughter Noriko (played by Hara Setsuko) to get married as she is now of an age where she is expected to do so. However, Noriko is content living the single life and tending to her father’s needs, and resists being paired off. Ryu eventually tricks Noriko into changing her thinking by pretending he is to re-marry.
I was immediately shocked when Ryu first came on screen, as I am by any great work of art, and shocked not because Ryu was doing anything outrageous, on the contrary infact, his character here is gentle and reserved and loving, but shocked because of the vividness of his expression which comes from within and makes the actor appear to glow. And this expression is, of course, driven by the strength and purity of the actor’s intentions. When so much of contemporary acting is false and manipulative it’s as though actors have been taking acting lessons from Tony Blair, Ryu offers an alternative example.
Ryu’s performance in Late Spring is startlingly vivid and delicate at the same time. And it’s this combination which produces such powerful results. When Ryu explains to Setsuko that happiness is not something you expect but something you create, a moment of genuine meaning is brought forth, the writer’s words are made to reveal a truth whereas in the hands of a lesser actor they may have become a cod philosophy. Ryu’s work is about being reserved, and withholding emotion or not concerning himself with it, or even how he feels at all, he’s simply doing the tasks presented to him as well as he can scene by scene, and what we witness is true courage and true strength.
The sum total of Ryu’s work means we, the audience, take a stake in the character’s trials and tribulations, their fate becomes important to us, and, crucially, we commit ourselves to the same process as that of the character which is also the same process as that of the actor, and we are, at the film’s end, truly moved, in our hearts, the same way the actor/character is because their struggle is our struggle, and, finally, we enjoy that sense of peace brought about by the cleansing process of the struggle. This commitment to a process is very different from, and an infinitely richer experience than, having our attention held by a constantly flickering stimulant.
I offer Chishu Ryu in Late Spring as an example of a great actor’s great performance.
Yours?