Memorias de un inquilino

Ozu's Record of a Tenement Gentleman, 1947. B/w, 72 minutes. Original title "Nagaya Shinshiroku ~ (長屋紳士録 ).

Viewed at the Karlovy Vary Film Festival of 2003. One of the best films seen here that year was a little known Japanese film, in the Ozu retrospective sidebar entitled, "RECORD OF A TENEMENT DWELLER" made just after the war in 1947. This was Ozu's return to filmmaking for Shochiku after four years of military service in China. The film is the story of a simple unmarried woman who is forced, much against her will, to take in a small boy, apparently abandoned in the postwar shattered Tokyo hustle and bustle. After much hostility toward the child, she finally realizes how much he has filled the void in her life and that she in fact loves him -- but only does this realization hit her when the father reappears to repossess his lost child. A simple story so directly told that it sneaks up on you like a time-bomb and makes you realize that your heart was crying -- but only ten minutes after the film is over! An early masterpiece from the master of Zen and the Art of telling stories on film, and an incredibly subtle, yet bombshell, performance by the main actress Chôko Iida, in my book, a retroactive Best Actress Oscar for the year that was. Iida was extremely active in Japanese silent pictures from 1923 on and had already appeared in supporting roles in three prewar Ozu films; "An Inn in Tokyo", (1935) the first version of "Floating Weeds" (1934), and "Dekigoro" (A Passing Fancy, 1933), but this performance when she was already pushing fifty was her acting apotheosis. Unfortunately Ozu's uniquely stylized films were not discovered in the west until after his death in 1963 and are only now becoming recognized little by little in astute cinema circles as the quiet unhurried masterpieces which they are.

It's such a shame that Ozu wasn't more of an outdoor director, because I've just found out his landscape shots are some of the most beautiful I have ever seen. This is one of Ozu's most beautiful movies.

As always, Chôko Iida is absolutely amazing. It's a beautiful story, with a lot of light, funny moments and tender, emotional ones as well. It's not very different from Ozu's pre-war movies, but as such it's equally beautiful. I was somehow disappointed for Ozu not exploring even more the tenement's habitants, but overall I was satisfied with Chôko Iida performance and the tender story of the bond between her and a child.

It's a slightly odd film even for the Japanese but it was Yasujiro Ozu's first after a gap of five years after the war. A poor young boy follows him back to another home as he seems be have been abandoned by his father who it seems was looking for work. Back at his tenement housing he hopes that someone will look after him. Sees nobody keen and then they get a widow to take him on. Clearly she is not happy and several times she 'shoos' him away just like she might a pigeon. She reluctantly gives him the night but as he wets the bed and in the morning she puts his bedding on the line but amazingly, she simply gives him a fan and has him stand there to dry it. There is no talk about the war although there is talk of 'orphans' and she doesn't really want the boy but gradually she is not as hard on him but it is strange that she doesn't wash him, even though he clearly has fleas. There is a sad ending and we see the Saigo statue in Ueno Park where orphans play beside their popular hero and his dog.

By any modern conception of film-making Yasujiro Ozu's approach here seems relatively unsophisticated and basic, but the simple appearance belies a keen mindfulness that's plainly admirable. Ozu demonstrates an outstanding eye for shot composition that is at once precise, spartan, and unremarkable, yet underhandedly artful and aesthetically pleasing. While 'Nagaya shinshiroku' is well made - the crew put in good work - and the story is duly interesting, it's nonetheless true that the filmmaker's orchestration of shots and scenes is the most readily impressive aspect of the feature. By that fundamental standpoint, it's a small pleasure to watch, especially in light of some of the scenery we get to take in over the course of these 70 minutes.

In fairness, such apparent uncomplicated visual presentation pairs neatly with what is a rather straightforward narrative. We're greeted with the fringes of a city pulling itself together in the wake of war, a peek at the lives of those living in a particular range of housing - and in their midst, the introduction of a lost child. There's not much to it on the surface, yet as the length progresses and other elements peek through, ever so slowly a deeper, quietly lovely story takes shape, and appreciable broad themes. Nothing about this movie is immediate or grabbing, though for those able and willing to sit and absorb, what gradually unfolds is warm, inviting, and satisfying. Through it all the cast give fine performances, though of them all Choko Iida certainly stands out most for a gratifyingly nuanced bit of acting in what becomes the central role.

The last few minutes become a little heavy-handed in their treatment of the themes, made all the more notable in contrast with the pointedly subdued tone the picture has otherwise adopted. Still, provided one is on board with a title that is so muted and measured in its storytelling, 'Nagaya shinshiroku' really is a splendid, rewarding viewing experience. I can understand how it won't appeal to all viewers, as it's a piece that is quite leisurely in imparting its tale. Ultimately that's part of what makes it so worthwhile, however, with Ozu's arrangement of shots placating us in the meantime. I don't think this is so essential a film that one needs to go out of their way for it, but if you have the chance to watch, this is well worth such a small amount of one's time.

Postwar Ozu, and by contrast to prewar films, little has changed; clear, composed eye, quietly enduring lives, even in the face of near-complete destruction.

Once more, a primary point lies in the edifying fable of the thing. The father is absent, authority if you will, core social integrity, always a looming absence in Ozu, and the orphaned kid will have to rely on the fundamental kindness of the world. Of course that world rises to the occasion, overcomes ego, harshness, in this case no doubt fostered by the hard reality of the times. Instead of scavenging alleys for nails to piece back together destroyed homes, it is asserted that selfless love should take care of that.

This is asserted in a clumsily unsubtle way, straight to the camera. Ozu was back at Shochiku from wartorn Manchuria, and it should not be underestimated, so were many Japanese, back from whatever gruelling role they were forced to play in the war.

To better understand this conservative need for closure, you have to note the way Ozu closes the film. The woman wanting to take care of another orphaned kid is pointed to the direction of Saigo's statue in Ueno Park - where it stands to this day. Saigo was a popular hero famous in conventional history for the last stand of the old samurai faction against plans for a modernized Japan. The ill-advised Tom Cruise film portrays the events.

This is enough to give us pause. Here's a director who had been unerringly forward-looking 15 years ago, had fervently embraced modern foreign film and widely referenced Western mores, no longer a youthful cinephile but sobered from the experience of war, who points for inspiration to this paragon of samurai virtue and ethos. Japan might as well forget the bold experiment with an empire that ended in such humiliating defeat, and look back instead to the simpler times when feudal lords and their police maintained coherence of the world.

This is a pity. The eye is clear but dulled by emotion, making for languid flow but without insight. Japan would have to wait another 10 years for the next generation of forward-looking filmmakers to look deeper into the ruins.