Tôkyô no kôrasu

The more time goes on in Ozu's career, the more purely Ozu his films feel, even when he's making a dramatic comedy that takes place mostly outside the house. It's a combination of small moments and the overall dramatic push of the film that give Ozu this unique feel of quietly embracing the smallness of everyday life, not seeing it as a bad thing but something to be celebrated in its own little ways. It's life-affirming and warm, and it's a wonderful way to spend 90 minutes.

Shinji (Tokihiko Okada) is a young professional, fresh out of college, and dealing with a family that includes his eldest son (Hideo Sugawara) who wants a bicycle like all of his other friends. Shinji promises him that bicycle with his bonus money, which should be coming that very day. However, Shinji gets into an argument with the company president about Yamada (Takeshi Sakamoto), an elderly employee who's being let go a year before his pension kicks in because of a mistake he made. The argument spirals, and Shinji gets fired. The rest of the movie is the little things Shinji has to do to break the news to his family and make ends meet. His wife, Sugako (Emiko Yagumo) loves him, but she's very Japanese and can't stand to see her husband lose face. So, when he takes a job helping his old professor, Omura (Tatsuo Saito), market his restaurant by parading around with a flag and handing out flyers, she's embarrassed at his status.

Where the joy comes in this is in the small moments. First, there's the light comedy that Ozu liked to sprinkle through his films. The early parts of the film are dominated by the office with the workers getting their bonuses, but Japanese culture encourages privacy on pay matters while also being filled with curious people. So, it becomes this dance as people take their bonus check envelopes and try to open them in private. The comic height is one opening his envelope in the bathroom and accidentally spilling the bills into the urinal.

Then there are the human moments. Shinji, on one of his many walks looking for work before running into Omura, finds Yamada handing out insurance advertising bills on the street. They sit down in a park and start to talk about life. There's suddenly frantic word about a bear having escaped nearby, but Shinji doesn't stir from his spot. Instead, he says, a bear won't save their lives. So, Yamada sits back down, and they continue to talk with the two barely moving. It's about embracing those small moments in life and enjoying them with people. That gets mirrored later with Shinji and his family. Penniless and without hope for work, he sits down at home and starts a game with his children, sitting in a circle and singing a song. There are smiles all around, even from Sugako, and life moves on.

Of course, there's an ending to this where Shinji's prospects brighten instead of darken through all of his suffering and efforts, and it's the kind of warm thing I'd expect from an Ozu film. However, it can't all be roses and cocktails. Shinji's efforts to help Omura's restaurant included bringing back all of his classmates to help, and Omura is faced with losing his students once again. It's all just played on faces, and it works surprisingly well.

My only problem with it is that Omura, aside from a brief appearance in essentially a prologue, didn't appear in the film until about an hour in. And most of his scenes are played for laughs (them bickering about who has to hold the heavy flags is amusing). So, the impact isn't that strong.

Also, like most of Ozu's comedies, they're not that funny. They're amusing. They have a nice feel as people navigate comedic situations, but they're not Keaton's death-defying stunts or Chaplin's intricately choreographed setpieces. His movies work best in their quiet moments, but it seems obvious to me that while Ozu was doing everything to make these films his own, he was still a cog in a studio machine, making films in genres he could manage but wasn't naturally inclined to make himself. So, he does the assignment well, but the really interesting stuff is where he can bend the film to his whims most. The precursors to the films that made him famous in the 40s and 50s. He might not have been blooming just yet, but Ozu's films were showing serious potential for growth while entertaining in mostly slight ways at the same time.

This Ozu guy...he's REALLY good at this movie making thing. The more time goes on in Ozu's career, the more purely Ozu his films feel, even when he's making a dramatic comedy that takes place mostly outside the house. It's a combination of small moments and the overall dramatic push of the film that give Ozu this unique feel of quietly embracing the smallness of everyday life, not seeing it as a bad thing but something to be celebrated in its own little ways. It's life-affirming and warm, and it's a wonderful way to spend 90 minutes.

Shinji (Tokihiko Okada) is a young professional, fresh out of college, and dealing with a family that includes his eldest son (Hideo Sugawara) who wants a bicycle like all of his other friends. Shinji promises him that bicycle with his bonus money, which should be coming that very day. However, Shinji gets into an argument with the company president about Yamada (Takeshi Sakamoto), an elderly employee who's being let go a year before his pension kicks in because of a mistake he made. The argument spirals, and Shinji gets fired. The rest of the movie is the little things Shinji has to do to break the news to his family and make ends meet. His wife, Sugako (Emiko Yagumo) loves him, but she's very Japanese and can't stand to see her husband lose face. So, when he takes a job helping his old professor, Omura (Tatsuo Saito), market his restaurant by parading around with a flag and handing out flyers, she's embarrassed at his status.

Where the joy comes in this is in the small moments. First, there's the light comedy that Ozu liked to sprinkle through his films. The early parts of the film are dominated by the office with the workers getting their bonuses, but Japanese culture encourages privacy on pay matters while also being filled with curious people. So, it becomes this dance as people take their bonus check envelopes and try to open them in private. The comic height is one opening his envelope in the bathroom and accidentally spilling the bills into the urinal.

Then there are the human moments. Shinji, on one of his many walks looking for work before running into Omura, finds Yamada handing out insurance advertising bills on the street. They sit down in a park and start to talk about life. There's suddenly frantic word about a bear having escaped nearby, but Shinji doesn't stir from his spot. Instead, he says, a bear won't save their lives. So, Yamada sits back down, and they continue to talk with the two barely moving. It's about embracing those small moments in life and enjoying them with people. That gets mirrored later with Shinji and his family. Penniless and without hope for work, he sits down at home and starts a game with his children, sitting in a circle and singing a song. There are smiles all around, even from Sugako, and life moves on.

Of course, there's an ending to this where Shinji's prospects brighten instead of darken through all of his suffering and efforts, and it's the kind of warm thing I'd expect from an Ozu film. However, it can't all be roses and cocktails. Shinji's efforts to help Omura's restaurant included bringing back all of his classmates to help, and Omura is faced with losing his students once again. It's all just played on faces, and it works surprisingly well.

My only problem with it is that Omura, aside from a brief appearance in essentially a prologue, didn't appear in the film until about an hour in. And most of his scenes are played for laughs (them bickering about who has to hold the heavy flags is amusing). So, the impact isn't that strong.

Also, like most of Ozu's comedies, they're not that funny. They're amusing. They have a nice feel as people navigate comedic situations, but they're not Keaton's death-defying stunts or Chaplin's intricately choreographed setpieces. His movies work best in their quiet moments, but it seems obvious to me that while Ozu was doing everything to make these films his own, he was still a cog in a studio machine, making films in genres he could manage but wasn't naturally inclined to make himself. So, he does the assignment well, but the really interesting stuff is where he can bend the film to his whims most. The precursors to the films that made him famous in the 40s and 50s. He might not have been blooming just yet, but Ozu's films were showing serious potential for growth while entertaining in mostly slight ways at the same time.

This Ozu guy...he's REALLY good at this movie making thing.

I don't have much to add to the other fine reviews, just two things:

(I) I rarely like silent films, but this one kept me entertained (and moved) throughout. I guess Ozu is just that good.

(2) There's a fascinating reference by the lead character, a salaryman for an insurance company where business has been slow in Depression-era Tokyo, to "Hoover's policies" not helping Japan as yet. I'm not sure if it was ironic or not -- I'd be surprised if it was meant to be an argument for a more Keynesian policy, but I'm not certain. In a way, I suppose the mention shouldn't come as a shock -- the world economy was sufficiently integrated in the 1930s for US economic policy to have a significant impact on Japan. Still, it was a reminder of, well justified or not, the importance of the US in the outlook of the typical Japanese.

"Tokyo story" is another silent movie of Yasujiro Ozu, of witch "I was born ... but" (1932) is the most well known.

Just like "I was born ... but" "Tokyo chorus" is about young parents and young children. In later years Ozu would concentrate more on the relationship between adult children and elderly parents. The obvious explanation would be that the stage of life of Ozu himself was leading in the choice of his subject. Given that Ozu was a bachelor all his life this explanation is however not true.

Just like "I was born ... but" "Tokyo chorus" is about shame with the employment of the father. In this case however it are not the children who feel the shame but the wife. Moreover in "Tokyo chorus" the "inferior" employment of the father is the result of his solidarity with an older colleague which was treated unfair. With this solidarity he showed his courage (unlike his other colleagues) but ultimately he only achieved that he was fired as well.

In Western eyes this gives the film a certain social engagement. Not very typical for Ozu! I wonder however if Ozu really meant it this way. In the beginning of the film we see that the main character was a rebel in his student years. In in between shots we see images of laundry drying in the sun. Another (more Japanese?) interptretation is that the main character is immature at the beginning of the film, insufficiently aware of his responsibilities as a father (symbolized by landry drying in the sun). Only through misfortune (of his own making) he finally grows up.

Whatever the interpretation, already in 1931 the style of Ozu was taking form, both regarding subject (family life) as regarding style (the use of in between shots).

An insurance man promises to buy his son a bicycle since it is the day he would get his bonus (the beginning sequence of him being kind of a loser in army drills is funny). A colleague gets fired nd the man sticks up for him nd gets fired also. His son is angry because he can't buy the bicycle. What follows is Ozu at his best: Taking a small situation and making it compelling. There is drama but also some slapstick in this film (and, in the role of the young daughter, the eventual wonderful actress Hideko Takamine) and it works because the story seems so close to home. There are lots of family moments, and your wish throughout the film is that everything will be all right (watch to find if it will be). Not a great film, but well worth your time. Ozu's next film was the excellent "I Was Born, But", and you can get them both on the box set "Silent Ozu", which have English subtitles. Recommended.

In "Tokyo Chorus", Ozu interplays two major of his long-standing themes - economic status and the everyday realities of family life.

The plot is simple (warning, spoilers): A young salary-man loses his white-collar insurance job trying to cover for an aging colleague. Unfortunately, it is 1931 and the Great Depression means few other employment opportunities. He has difficulty covering the expenses of his family. After misadventures, he runs into his former professor-now-health-food-café-owner who promises him aid if the young man assists him with the café. Part of that assistance is handing out handbills in the street, a major loss of economic and personal status. Unfortunately, his wife sees him and is greatly shamed by the family's loss of status. Gradually, she accepts the need for sacrifice and also begins to assist in the café. During the large opening banquet at the café (guaranting it's success), the old professor receives word that the young man has been offered a teaching post, albeit one in a small and distant town. The movie ends on this hopeful yet downbeat note.

Ozu does not hesitate to attempt to show us the realities of Great Depression unemployment. Indeed, he is more truthful than any comparable American movie of that time or ours. Ozu is willing to attempt to dig into the nexus between employment, self-identity and status that is prevalent throughout capitalist economies. This was his primary theme at the beginning of the Depression, in this movie along with his early masterpiece "I Was Born, But..." and "Where Now are the Dreams of Youth?" and "Passing Fancy". In addition, Ozu also flexes his unparalleled ability with family scenes. Excellent performances from Ozu regulars Tokihiko Okada, Emiko Yagumo, Tatsuo Saito, as well as a winning child performance from future star Hideko Takamine. Watch out for the world's cutest fat baby!