Sommerblüten

User reviewer Martin-f has an excellent summary ("Ozu at the top his game", martin-f from United Kingdom, 24 April 2006).

'Equinox Flower' is an incredible example of film art. It is my favorite (so far) film of Yasujirō Ozu. Ozu is a daring filmmaker because he handicaps himself almost completely. All of his contemporaries were moving their camera (e.g., the spectacular single-shot opening of Orson Welles's 1958 "Touch of Evil"). Ozu refuses to.

Ozu also refuses to provide dramatic subject material besides family arguments over whom a young girl marries. He also frequently has the camera on the floor looking up at his characters when they are seated, which is often. The actors are never allowed to veer off script, which often is banal dialogue. Finally, most of Ozu's imagery appears like a painting. This is Ozu's first color film; he makes quite a remarkable splash in this medium.

This is regarded as a comedy/romance. We should also say it concerns Japanese manners and patriarchy. We often see in Ozu's films a husband returning to the home from work, removing layers of his clothing and dropping them on the floor for his dutiful wife to take care of. (If Western males tried this there would be Hell to pay.) We see it multiple times here, and this husband/wife interaction helps identify the power relationship between big CEO and patriarch Wataru Hirayama (Shin Saburi) with his wife Kiyoko (Kinuyo Tanaka). At the film's opening when Wataru makes an impromptu speech at a wedding, he insults Kiyoko by publicly lamenting forced marriages like the one he had. Needless to day, Ozu does not plan on Kiyoko enduring these insults forever. She turns out to be a formidable rival.

There are three other young women. The woman playing daughter Sesuko's friend is great (i.e., who plays the pivotal trick on Wataru). She has a great role and she plays it very well.

Finally, Ozu's visual aesthetics are very well chosen and delightful. If you have the patience for 'Equinox Flower', it is very worthwhile.

This line uttered by Ozu favorite, Chishu Ryu, toward the end of the story helps sum up the mixture of comedy and melancholy that pervades this excellent film. The other reviewers have well described the amusing irony of Wataru Harayama's (Shin Saburi) avuncular support of his friends' daughters' desires to marry for love but his shocked resistance when he finds out about his own daughter's similar desires. But alongside Ozu's depiction of the daughters' plans for their futures is that of the fathers' nostalgia for their pasts.

Harayama, Ryu's character Mikami, and their other friends from middle school days have stayed in touch and regularly compare notes about their carefree days before their own arranged marriages, workday routines, and worries about their daughters. In one scene of a class reunion they wear uniforms, sing songs, and recite elegiac poems. And the one wife we meet, Harayama's (brilliantly played by Kinuyo Tanaka), who has stoically borne her husband's discontent all these years, sees her patience rewarded as she becomes the bridge between him and his daughter.

One other note of reality--Yukiko, the delightfully liberated daughter of a family friend who conspires with Harayama's daughter to play a crucial trick on Harayama, was played by Fujiko Yamamoto who lit up every scene she was in. I wondered why I hadn't heard more about her, and found out from Wikipedia that at the height of her popularity in 1963, when her contract was up for renewal, she asked for some better terms and the head of her studio (Daiei) not only fired her but invoked an agreement with the other studios to prevent her from being hired by any of them. She never made another film. That's another glimpse of old Japan.

Equinox Flower was Ozu's first color film. He was reluctant to do it, but he shouldn't have been. He handles the addition so well. The colors really do join every scene together. Equinox Flower deals with one father's hypocritical view of love and marriage. It begins at a wedding where Hirayama makes a speech to his friend's daughter. He says how lucky they are to be able to choose their own partner. He does this in front of his wife in a very awkward moment. Hirayama and Kiyoko's relationship is interesting. They make their marriage work, even if there wasn't love there at first. They work together and never feel that they are trapped in this relationship. Despite his new world views during this wedding, once his daughter announces she wishes to marry a man, Hirayama is opposed. His hypocritical views are the cause of much comedy. He is also forced to face his prejudices as he finds a daughter of an old friend who has run away to be with her struggling musician boyfriend. Hirayama is supportive of everyone but his own daughter. Again though, with Ozu's eloquence, Hirayama is not a villain. It is understandable that he has different views concerning his own daughter. A group of men sit around and discuss the differences between sons and daughters. The growth of the whole family is well plotted and emotional. It's another wonderful and gentle deconstruction of Japanese family values.

This is the first Ozu film I've seen, though I did see a film about him many years ago. Therefore, I am aware of Ozu's liking for a particular and eccentric camera angle, and his apparent preference for an acting style which is, depending on your point of view, understated, stilted or highly restricted. Ozu appears to like portraying what is perhaps the reality of a culture which values conformity.

Take a tip - adjust quickly to the apparently straightjacketed acting. This is an excellent cast, whose talent shines through even Ozu's iron hand.

And it makes the humour even more effective. I was astonished at just how much I, and the rest of the audience, laughed out loud at a few of the scenes. I find it difficult to simply convey why it works. Suffice to say Ozu is clearly a master of the slow buildup. There's a scene where the father takes one of his employees to a bar, to meet a girl who is the daughter of one of his friends. The girl has run away and cut off contact with her dad. The central character tries to get her to at least talk it over. The humour of this scene revolves around the acute embarrasment the junior employee feels, as a regular patron. Ozu milks this scene for every last laugh with a master's touch. Sounds dull as I've written it, right ? Well, on screen, it's a killer.

After this film, I'll look forward much more to my next Ozu.

Ozu is such a pleasure, a quiet one, meditative.

The story here is about lives, whether they are arranged and what agency we have in arranging them. Many viewers will suppose that the topic was chosen because of some desire to make a comment about Japanese society.

No, its because the filmmaker had turned introspective in his later years. His films are characterized by the way the shots are composed. Each one is a matter of absolute perfection. The perfection is so complete, you have to stop and study. You have to rerun certain scenes to see how amazingly the components arrange. He is the ultimate classical Japanese composer. Sometimes you see that the sets must have been especially built for one setup. Pure geometries and symmetries dominate. The camera is always static.

The effect is that what you see has nature. Its natural, human. It flows in much the same languid, undramatic way that life does around us. But what we see is that flow in a highly composed context. Every element in that context naturally occurs but seems to have found its own harmony to please the eye of the viewer. Its the cinematic Japanese garden.

There's a subtle thing here. Ordered nature presented so that the human composition seems so in tune with nature that we love it. But it is arranged. It is pure and unnatural too, sort of abstractly sublime.

This viewer is a Westerner who works with Japanese concepts of ideal, natural harmony. Watching this makes me cry with a pleasure that avoids being joy.

Ted's Evaluation -- 3 of 3: Worth watching.