Bangiku

Unlike those of his contemporaries, Mizoguchi, Ozu and Kurosawa, the films of Mikio Naruse are mostly unknown in the West and yet they are just as relevant and just as powerful. The "Late Chrysantehmums" of this extraordinary film are four ageing former geisha's with money problems and this is one of the most insightful of films dealing with the role of women in post-war Japanese society and not just the women at the centre who once sold their bodies but who now have nothing to barter but also the daughter of one of them who is prepared to marry an older man for financial security. Money is at the basis of everything that happens in the film and it taints the lives of all the characters. It is superbly played, particularly by those great Japanese actresses Haruko Sugimura as the moneylender Okin and Chikako Hosokawa as the drunken Otamae. Like Naruse, these two actresses never really 'crossed over' to the West and yet their work in Japanese cinema is as fine as any to have graced international cinema while this is a film on a subject that, in hindsight, would never have been tackled in Western cinema at this time. Of course that, in itself, does not make it a masterpiece but a masterpiece it is, nevertheless. It is one of the greatest of all films on the disappointments that life throws at us.

Naruse is typically considered one of the 3 master founders of Japanese film, the other two being Ozu and Mizoguchi. This is an interesting and honest film on the lives of retired Geishas. Whatever happens, when such a woman ages, and loses her charm and mystique? Well, for those who are interested, watch this film. One: Okin, is successful as a money-lender, but the other two have to borrow from her and are resentful. Okin doesn't have any children, but the other do. Okin finds out that her old love is coming to visit her, and is excited. Naruse is a master in subtle studies of his female protagonists' characters. Bangiku ultimately draws the viewer into the study of the questions of ones happiness, and one's life-worth. Very good film indeed.

Sadness and nostalgia permeate Late Chrysanthemums, a 1954 film by Japanese auteur Mikio Naruse, now undergoing a retrospective of his long unavailable films thanks to James Quandt of Cinematheque Ontario and The Japan Foundation. Based on three stories by Fumiko Hayashi, Late Chrysanthemums tells the story of four retired geishas, now middle-aged, whose lives have become full of disappointment and regret. Performance are uniformly outstanding, particularly that of Haruko Sugimura, who starred in films by Ozu's Late Spring, Floating Weeds, and Tokyo Story among others. Sugimura portrays Kin, a former Geisha who has no children and lives only with her young maid who is unable to speak.

She has become cynical about men and has turned her attention to money, particularly real estate speculation and loaning money to her friends, Nobu (Sadako Sawamura), Tamae (Chikako Hosokawa), and Tomi (Yuko Mochizuki), all former geishas. Kin's friends live in meager circumstances and complain about how Kin has become greedy and Tomi spends considerable time gambling to try and make ends meet. Both Tomi and Tamae are in the process of losing their children. Tamae's son is leaving to work in the coalmines in Hokkaido, and Tomi's daughter has decided to accept a marriage proposal from an older man. Both resist the change in their circumstances but come to accept it as inevitable.

Two male friends visit Kin, Seki a former lover with whom she once contemplated double suicide, and Tabe (Ken Uehara), another lover who she looks forward to seeing again after many years. Her mood is upbeat but soon turns to resentment when she discovers that the two men are only interested in borrowing money. Naruse cuts between two extended sequences seamlessly as Kin confronts Tabe and Tomi and Tamae console each other over the loss of their children The dialogue is extremely natural and the characters are women of strength who, though their future does not seem bright, refuse to see themselves merely as victims. Late Chrysanthemums has the simplicity, humor, and stoic acceptance of life prominent in the films of Ozu and is a bittersweet reminder of the slow passing of time and the comfort that memory and companionship can bring along the way.

A look at three geishas who are way past their prime. Now they look back on their pasts with fondness and bemoan their present. Kin (played by Floating Weeds' Haruko Sugimura) has sworn off men and has made a good living as a moneylender; everyone on the block owes her. The other two, Nobu and Tamae, wish they could land husbands, but are not foolish enough to believe they ever will. Meanwhile, their children - one has a son and one a daughter - are both about to get married (not to each other). Tamae is irked at how much prettier her daughter has become than her, and bitterly tries to convince her not to marry the man. Nobu's concerns about her son are more legitimate in nature, but they are also (understandably) self-serving. After her son leaves, she'll be alone. A bit into the film, two of Kin's former clients come looking for her, one a man so obsessed with her that he tried to get her to commit double suicide with him, the other one of her handsomest clients. Unfortunately, he comes for her money, not her love. The way I've described the film makes it sound unrelentingly depressing, but it's really not. Sad, but not fatally so. It's more bittersweet. Unfortunately, I only marginally liked Late Chrysanthemums. The story seems better when I look back on it, but it is very slow and dull. I actually nodded off twice during the film, and I wasn't at all tired before I started it. This is the kind of film that I can appreciate more than like; it reminds me very much of my reaction to a couple of Ozu's more famous films. 7/10.

It's a movie about retired geishas. Some, like Haruko Sugimura, have saved their money, have no children, and are enjoying -- if that's the word -- a second career as a moneylender and real estate speculator. Some, like Yûko Mochizuki have not. None of them seem particularly happy.

Mikio Naruse has avoided his usual tale of women falling victim to changes in Japan. Instead, he and his frequent director of photography, Masao Tamai, have adopted a scheme of blocking for this movie that is far flashier, less standard for its era, than their usual collaborations. Miss Sugimura's house is all shoji and framing panels. Where she controls the geometry, she controls the situation. Even in her other scenes, she is still in similar geometry, and still in charge. It's only in the final scene,in open space that she stumbles. The other women manage all right. There seems to be a clear message that they can choose to hide where it is safe, or face up to the world.

It's an unusually optimistic viewpoint for Naruse, but not, of course, without its pitfalls. The world is still out there. Predatory men are still out there. Sometimes, however, you need to laugh at it anyway. It won't make a difference, but it will make you feel better.