Yasujiro Ozu's Tokyo Story

I sometimes, in my perverse way, would name Setsuko Hara and Chishu Ryu as my favorite film stars.  They both appeared as regular cast members in the films of Ozu, a great director who, once again, is little known in this country  I say "once again" because there was a brief period in the 70's when he was known to most film lovers.  In 1972 Tokyo Story was shown at The New Yorker Theatre and there were lines around the block, as well as a rapturous review of the film by Roger Greenspun in The New York Times.  In Japanese film I was originally attracted to the films of Akira Kurosawa, gradually found my way to the intensely emotional period dramas of Kenji Mizoguchi and only came later to the extraordinary films of Yasujiro Ozu. 

Just recently Setsuko Hara died, at the age of 95.  She made six films with Ozu and basically retired after the last one, The End of Summer in 1961.  She reminded me of Deanna Durbin, who made her last film at the age of 27 and died in France in 2013 at 92 and Greta Garbo, who also was reclusive from her last film at the age of 36 until her death at 85.  Setsuko Hara never married or had children; the same was true of Ozu himself.  But in their films together they portrayed the dilemmas of post-war Japanese families, especially those of women who were combining careers with family.  In Tokyo Story parents leave their rural area to visit their children in Tokyo, children who now have their own prosperous lives and are too busy to spend much time with their parents.  The burden falls on Setsuko Hara, the widow of the son who died in the war, who always has a radiant and understanding smile.  Her father-in-law, played by Chishu Ryu, usually replies with "hmmm" to most questions and, as is typical in Ozu's films, this can be said in many different ways with many different meanings.

One of the problems I originally had with Ozu was his intensely austere style, where the camera never moves and most shots are low-angles from the position of a tatami mat. This style was not instantly appealing to one who loves the tracking shots of Ophuls. But gradually I have come to appreciate this rigorous style, with the beauty of movement within the frame and the interludes of so-called "pillow shots," -- non-narrative shots of trains, landscapes, empty rooms and, one of Ozu's favorites, clothes hanging on a clothesline --, that calm one between scenes and emphasize the environment within which the characters live. There are also many ellipses in Ozu's style, where events are discussed both before and after but never actually shown, something those who focus on narrative cause-and-effect may find disconcerting but which I find compelling and involving, in the way that Godard once said that the best movies take place halfway between the viewer and the screen.

Many Ozu films are now available on DVD and I also recommend two useful books:

Ozu's Tokyo Story, edited by David Desser (Cambridge University Press, 1997).  It even includes a fascinating essay by Arthur Nolletti, Jr  comparing Tokyo Story with Leo McCarey's Make Way for Tomorrow.
Transcendental Style in Film: Ozu, Bresson, Dreyer  by Paul Schrader (U. of Cal. Press, 1972)