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This close remake of Yashijuro Ozu's silent 'The Story of Floating Weeds' from 1934 which was made under the aegis of Shochiku studios is a far mellower work which reflects not only its director's maturity but also the cheerier tone preferred by Daiei. He also has the benefit here of utilising Daiei's senior lighting cameraman Kazuo Miyagawa whose colour cinematography is ravishing as well as two of Daiei's leading performers Ganjiro Nakayama and Machiko Kyo as master and mistress Komajuro and Sumiko. The sunnier treatment is heightened by the wistful, nostalgic score by Fakandu Saito which would not be out of place in a Jacques Tati film.

Taking its title from the Japanese name for itinerant actors, this has all the hallmarks of Ozu's oeuvre, in terms of serenity, humanism and a profound understanding of the human heart. As usual the camera is static and placed a little below the actors whilst the compositions are nothing less than painterly. For this viewer at any rate one would have wished a few scenes, notably the confrontation between Komajuro, Oyoshi, Kyoshi and Kayo, to have been a little more animated but that is simply not Ozu's way. The argument between Komajuro and Sumiko whilst sheltering from the rain is masterfully handled as is their final touching scene in the railway station. The splendid images that open and close the film linger long in the memory.

By all accounts Ozu never aimed for an international audience and indeed his films were not really appreciated in the West until the decade after his death. His work is very much one of variations on a theme and as avowed Ozu devoteee Roger Ebert has observed: "To look at any of his films is to glimpse the whole."

... aren't we all, their lives steadily unravelling as their audience shrinks, their relationships stretched with secrets, revenge and deception coming to the fore. A poetic observation of life that turns the seemingly ordinary into something quite the opposite and, as relevant today as it has always been, as it encourages you to reflect on who you really are or have been, where you've come from and, more importantly, where you might be going.

While seemingly rather simple, "Floating Weeds" is quite a satisfying film that combines Ozu's usual thoughtful tone with characters and atmosphere convincing enough that they almost immediately make you feel as if you know both the principals and their surroundings. Much of the running time is spent on apparently routine activities, but each scene serves a useful purpose in developing the themes, settings, and characters.

The story ties together the fortunes of a traveling troupe of kabuki actors with, in the forefront, a crucial point in the relationships of Komajuro, their leader. The setting in a seaside village offers a suitably languid atmosphere that sets off both plot lines very appropriately. One of the things that is so interesting about Ozu's films is that the settings are so definitively Japanese, with plenty of well-conceived details, and yet the way that he approaches the story and characters makes his movies seem universal, confined neither by time nor place.

The characters here are an interesting assortment of theatrical types and villagers. Many of them are relatively one-dimensional, but they are portrayed with skill and sensitivity, making even the simplest of them seem worth knowing. Especially good is Machiko Kyô as Sumiko, who is also the most interesting of the characters. Ganjiro Nakamura is good too as Komajuro, but Kyô usually gets the best of their scenes together.

Two particularly good scenes between the two are the tense dispute in the rain and the encounter in the train station. In the former scene, Ozu's setup for the scene is a perfect complement for the characters' dialogue and actions. In the latter, the characters convey deep feelings with the most economical and satisfying of means.

This is the kind of movie for which subsequent viewings might even be more enjoyable than the first, in the way that coming back to a familiar place can give you an odd sense of peace or security. And it leaves you with the feeling that it would be nice to come back again sometime.

I wrote this after I saw my first Ozu's film, "Tokyo Story" about a year ago: "As with every great work, the film has its own unique perfection in style, rhythm, details, and artist's vision - but Tokyo Story is very universal in its appeal, simply put, it is for every parent, every son or daughter - for everyone. It was made 50 years ago in Japan, about people who lived far away, but it is also about all of us, our families, our problems, our guilt and our search for love and meaning. Ozu's film does not require one to be a movie buff or to try to solve complex symbolism to appreciate and love it. It brings smiles because it is a comedy (for at least the first 2/3) and sadness with a high drama of the last 1/3 of the film."

I feel absolutely the same about "Floating Weeds". The film is quiet and deceptively simple but its simplicity reminded me the words of Michelangelo Buanorotti. When asked how he created the perfect statues from the shapeless marble lumps, he answered, "It is very simple, you just cut off all unnecessary pieces".

Ozu's films are perfect - they touch us with rare warmth, soft enveloping tenderness and power of human emotions not necessarily with striking visual or sound effects. "Floating Weeds" is a remake of earlier silent black and white Ozu's film "The Story of Floating Weeds". The story is simple: an aging, traveling actor who is the manager of a kabuki troupe returns to a remote village where he secretly meets his former lover and her 19 year old illegitimate son, to whom he is known as "uncle." The older man finds happiness in communicating with his son who turned to be a fine young man. His current mistress, filled with jealousy because of his attachment to his secret family, hires a young beautiful girl, the member of a troupe to seduce a boy. Something in this story attracted Ozu so much that he remade the film twenty five years later.

"Floating Weeds" is a beautiful color film and it is the first color Ozu's film for me. The colors are bright and fresh, tender and kind - they match the director's style perfectly. The delightful music by Kojun Saito reminds me of Nina Rota music in Fellini's films - nostalgic, innocent and rhythmic.

This, one of Ozu's last films, has all the elements of a Shakespearean tragedy played out among people living simple, workaday lives: deceit, jealousy, betrayal, vengeance, love, hope. It's all there. The acting by an all-star cast (at the time) of Japanese actors, including the gorgeous Ayako Wakao, is uniformly excellent. The cinematography may be the best I've seen for any color film made in the 1950's. The overall pace was a bit too slow for my liking, but it works well with a static camera taking every shot below eye level. This gives the viewer a visual perspective similar to looking at the actors on a slightly elevated stage, just as the audience does when watching the plays put on by the itinerant group of actors that centers the film. Overall, a well-crafted work by a recognized master, but not for the 'explosions & car chase' crowd. Rating: 8/10

From the opening scene with the lighthouse in the distance and a bottle on the beach in the foreground (which is worthy of being a famous modern minimalist landscape painting) the view is pulled back to a shot of the lighthouse from between two boats, then to a store front. These shots are the equivalent of a powerful opening paragraph to a novel, they draw you in in anticipation of what is to come. Throughout the film the artistry of the color cinematography does not disappoint. Each scene is composed as if it were a painting and the use of color is singularly striking. A black-and-white viewing of this film would lose about 80% of its appeal.

The story is that of a traveling Kabuki theater troupe arriving to perform in a small Japenese village. This is not the troupe's first visit to the village and the leader of the troupe, Komajuro Arashi, had fathered an illegitimate boy there some eighteen years in the past. When Komajuro visits the mother of his son, for the first time in twelve years, complications ensue.

Some remark that this is a simple story simply told. As far as its being a simple story, it is no simpler than, say, "Othello," which could be summarized as "Proud soldier meets tragic end due to jealousy." The treatment of the corrosive effects of jealousy, pride, deception, and male ego in "Floating Weeds" make for anything but a simple tale. As far as its being simply told, it is in fact most skillfully told - as the movie progresses the combination of sound and image have a subtle accumulating effect on mood, heightening awareness. It is frequently the case that the *appearance* of simplicity in a work of art, as in "Floating Weeds," is difficult to achieve.

The music is a cross between the score for a French comedy and a work of Arvo Pärt, but it adroitly reflects the shifting moods of the film which alternate between serious and comic, sometimes being simultaneously serious and comic. Ozu does not allow his movie to become overly ponderous; it is leavened with humor. For example, when the troupe is enjoying a day at the beach one of the members says with seriousness, "The sky's so blue, it's sad," to which another replies, "Don't be silly, I want to eat a big cutlet."

It is difficult not to be offended by Komajuro's physical abuse of his mistress, his son, and his son's lover. And the general acceptance of male dominance is hard to digest. I am not sure what we are supposed to feel about Komajuro at the end, but I found that his particular personality flaws distanced me from any deep caring about him or his fate. I had more concern about the future of his son and the women who were involved with him.

An itinerant troupe of Kabuki players bring their shows to the small town in which their leader Komajuro (Nakamura Ganjiro II) sired a son (Kiyoshi, Hiroshi Kawaguchi) from whom he has hidden his parentage. This beautifully made film is Yasujiro Ozu's 'remake' of his 1934 silent (A Story of Floating Weeds). Like all of Ozu's films, little happens as his static camera catches vignettes of the various shabby players as they try to hustle up an audience for their dated show, hit on the local girls (in several amusing scenes), and drink. Much of the story is about Komajuro's reconnecting with Oyoshi (Haruko Sugimura), the mother of his son and the jealous reactions of Sumiko, Machiko Kyo, his current mistress. Like all of Ozu's films, the drifting apart of generations is a focus as Komajuro struggles to ensure that Kiyoshi will go to university and not be destined to live the same life as his parents or the members of the troupe. Like the original, the story and the 'feel' is poignant and melancholy (although there are some comical moments, I missed the scenes in the silent version in which the little boy with the errant bladder plays a dog when the troupe is on stage). Watched with English subtitles.

This time Ozu does not settle his film in Tokyo, but in a small town at the coast. And it is not a home-drama. At the centre are the experiences of a Kabuki-troup. Thus Ozu can play with the cliches of the Geisha and Samurai film. But not only Geishas and Samurais have become outdated, but also the representation of the latter by Kabuki-theater. The educated miss "social relevance" the others the pink panties of the dancing girls. The show of the theater group is a failure, and all the actors ask themselves for which reason they have come to such a place. But they get top know that the head of the troup visits an old lady whose son thinks he is the actor's nephew.... From this constellation originates a typical Ozu story of love, betrayal, disillusion with an ending you would not have expected seconds before. The whole film is characterized by beautiful and symbolic arrangements of Japanese interieurs, though mostly of the traditional type. I hope that other dubbed versions are not as awful as the German one.

This is my second Ozu film, first was Tokyo Story which I like a lot more. I think the direction is still pretty good and actors were fine but I felt disconnected from it's point and characters. I didn't feel anything emotionally, I was just admiring the opening shot and whole cinematography. It was just fine.

In a week I saw this movie three times. Why? Because its charm really got me, it should get you too! Set on an small island in the warm southern Japan summer, a struggling kabuki troupe comes by boat to stay there for a few shows. They actually stay much longer than that because the leader of the troupe has some personal matters here.

The characters in this movie felt so real its as if I know them. And I think back on them fondly. I and the cynic, but unexperienced son (was it Kiyoshi?), the jealous femme fatale Sumiko, the lovely mother of Kiyoshi, the sweet flower Oyoshi and the others are almost like friends. Ozu succeeds in getting the very best out of the actors so they cease to be actors. Best is Kyô Machiko as Sumiko and Nakamura Ganjiro as the troupe leader. I am not all convinced on Kiyoshi though, esp. during the Sumiko confrontation.

Stylistically this is a perfect film. Camera is fixed in well composed shots and we get to mediate on the surroundings and the people and let it all sink in. Look out for the quarrel scene, its simply one of the most powerful scenes I've seen.

Music carries the feelings in the movie even if its just too simple songs (that I remember). The heat is felt and I'm there sweating with them.

Some noted that this is good soap opera, I disagree, this is drama of the highest order, the kind of drama you don't see much in movies at all. This was my first Ozu, and its not everybody's favourite it seems, still its hard to surpass this..

A theatre troupe comes to a coastal town in Japan, including the leader of the troupe who had previously visited twenty years earlier and fathered a child with a local woman. It starts off with too many characters engaged in random conversations. Although it takes a while for the main story line to emerge, the film becomes more interesting once it gets to that point. As one would expect from Ozu, the acting here is generally good if somewhat theatrical. The cinematography is quite colorful, helped by the picturesque seaside setting. Unfortunately, the plot is rather mundane and melodramatic, with themes of seduction and infidelity more suited to a trashy Hollywood movie.

Ok, Roger Ebert, one of your ten favorite films of all times? Damn...

This is my first experience with Yasujiro Ozu, and although i rated Floating Weeds as a 5 out of 10 stars, i wasn't bothered with the artistical elements of the film neither dissapointed with what i was seeing, on the contrary: i was fairly impressed: the shots, the mise-en-scène, the overall feeling of the movie made a good impression on me.

But it wasn't enough, since the story is neither compelling or funny. The script is superficial, banal and apathic, and, honestly, if brought to screen by a more shrewd and well paced director, it could have turned out a more impactful work of art.

"Floating Weeds" (Japanese, 1959): The first few things I notice about films by writer/director Ozu are: the incredibly consistent, artful composition used in his shots; his patience with the "ordinary"; and his intentional avoidance of "action" and blatant "drama". His films are meditative exercises on the daily truths we humans must face, which contain their own realistic challenges. Like Bergman and Allen, he too often uses the same actors, non-exotic locations, and stays within a philosophical area of interest that is obviously not market driven…which earns them dedicated followers...even after death. Ozu's films are pure elegance.

Ageing, washed-up actor Komajuro (Nakamura) rolls into a sleepy 50s seaside town with his rinky-dink, outdated Kabuki troupe (the film's title being a Japanese term for itinerant actors). Here he seeks to reunite with former lover Oyoshi (Sugimura) and their illegitimate son Kiyoshi (Kawaguchi), who believes the old man is his uncle.

When Komajuro's sour-faced mistress Sumiko (Kyô) learns of the affair, she engineers a doomed seduction between beautiful young actress Kayo (Wakao) and Kiyoshi to humiliate the troupe master via his unwitting son - Kiyoshi's tawdry, failed romance will serve to remind Komajuro of his own. Can Komajuro exert parental authority over his 'nephew' without revealing his true identity?

Tokyo Story may be Ozu's most famous work, but the elegiac and refined Floating Weeds ranks among the director's best. A director, incidentally, whose gravestone is marked by the Japanese word for "nothing". Appropriately so: as critic Derek Malcolm points out, such was the restraint of Ozu's film-making, "it hardly seemed like art at all".

Less is so much more. As Ozu biographer Donald Richie notes: "What remains after seeing an Ozu film is the feeling that, if only for an hour or two, you have seen the goodness and beauty of everyday things and everyday people."

Floating Weeds may well concern issues of betrayal and loss, but in its refusal to moralise, affords its all-too-human characters something approaching grace. Prefaced with the fairytale like caption "Somewhere in the South of Japan...", Weeds goes about its business with a quiet dignity - chiefly distinguished by Ozu's celebrated static camera, allowing a richer degree of intimacy and contemplation.

This is complemented by exquisite framing from cinematographer Kazuo Miyagawa - evoking 19th century Japanese prints - and dedicated, understated performances from the cast.

A masterpiece in terms of cinematography and introduction of characters.

For nearly 5 minutes, we just know there is a troupe coming to town to perform a play. Is this story about the play, or anything to be derived from that, does it relate to the people of the town who are there for the first few minutes, we can hardly make out anything. Yasujiro Ozu the director of this film seems to be a master of intrigue. The beginning is so very intriguing that the first 15 minutes made me sit through the whole film.

Also, the unrelated shots that are shot geometrically with perfect symmetry. Be it of the light house, or the rain drops through windows or close ups or long shots. I was amazed by a family drama story being told with such perfection of framing

It's a story of a father and so, the father knows the son, but the son does not know the relationship between the mother and this man and only at the end realizes that the man who often comes to his house is his father. There is a confrontation scene that's done well. But above all actors, I loved the acting of the stepmother (don't remember her name) who determines to undo the conspiracy and unveil the relationship between her husband and a woman, he frequently visits.

It's a movie, thats simple in many ways but yet the grandeur is bought to it by the intrigue and the sublime cinematography that's done beautifully. Through the journey of this film, I have understood that Yasujiro Ozu himself was one of the finest cinematographers ever.

I am going with 3/5 for a movie that is good, but a 5/5 must be given for cinematography alone. This one must be watched for the way camera is handled.

Ukikusa / Floating Weeds (1959) : Brief Review -

A rare Classic remake of Classic Silent Drama in Colour Talkie by the master director Yasujiro Ozu. It doesn't happen frequently that an old classic is remade years after and the new product still manages to hold the same Classic tag but if there was anyone in this cinema world would could have it in pre 60s era then it's none other than Master Yasujiro Ozu. I am about to have finished watching his filmography (mostly all Classics i mean) but this film came as a surprise to me for two reasons. First, because it was a remake of a Classic Silent film and two because this film was made towards the end of his career. Unexpectedly Ukikusa came out as a terrific remake that can be called a Classic Film even though it is just a simple copy paste of the original classic. The head of a Japanese theatre troupe returns to a small coastal town where he left a son who thinks he is his uncle, and tries to make up for the lost time, but his current mistress grows jealous. This leads to several harmful conflicts that even scattered the family connect and relationships but the conclusion is allegorical and suitable to the definition of timeless impact. I love such dramas, family dramas and love stories where the realisation of own mistakes leads to painful repent rather than submitting a happy ending with unacceptable adjustments. Ukikusa is a top notch writting in that sense so it just needed a perfect presentation and who else could have given it other than Master Ozu? Just like every other Classic of Ozu, Ukikusa too is a very rich film in every cinematic category whether it is acting, cinematography, dialogues, screenplay, execution or direction. Nothing can be said more about it, putting everything in short, it's a Classic that cannot be missed even if you have Loved the original.

RATING - 8/10*

By - #samthebestest

The title is prophetic as this thing just kinda drifts along, somewhat aimlessly, for two hours plus, with occasional bouts of uncharacteristic, clumsy melodrama from this most understated of directors. It's a story of a down at heel acting troupe stranded without money in a small, somnolent coastal village in the torrid, torpid summer and so there are lots of shots and scenes of people lying about and complaining of the heat or just lying about. And endless shots of the same lighthouse or building along with so many repetitions of the Nino Rota wannabe musical theme that you find yourself mentally requesting scorer Kojun Saito to come up with a new tune. Ozu tries to liven things up with comic relief concerning the amours of various of the male actors but the ugly girl/angry women jokes are not all that funny and the drama, concerning the acting troup leader's illegitimate son and his jealous mistress is, as previously alluded to, on the heavy, creaky side. About the only thing that lingers in the mind is the performance of Machiko Kyo as Sumiko, a beguiling combination of angry, sad and sexy. C plus.

It had been many years since I've seen an Ozu film. It took a litle while, but I was reminded of how glorious his movies are. The story matters little; it will be dated and a little tiresome except from an historical perspective. But it's the feeling you get from his movies, such a calm contentment. What a joy!

Yasujiro Ozu's cinematography and directing style fascinate me. The utterly unmovable camera is such a strange way to tell a story. It's almost like watching a comic book with its tight borders, except that the characters within those borders are allowed to move, enter and exit freely, yet the borders never move, as if utterly uninterested in their comings and goings.

So yeah, visually this is a great movie, masterpiece even. The viewing angles change from sweeping scenery shots to extreme close-ups where the characters stare right into the camera, which at some points creates a feeling of uneasiness, but that works for the movie's favour. Plus, all the colours, all the traditional Japanese clothing, all the over-the-top facial expression on Komajuro's (Ganjiro Nakamura) face, they all come together to form a movie that's definitely nice to look at.

Unfortunately the story itself is a bit boring. It's not that bad, not really, but I just couldn't get all that much into it. A group comes to town, the meet some people, some secrets are revealed, there's drama, there's hurt feelings. It's all very basic, and while the actors do manage to get into their roles and give good performances, I was left expecting just a bit more. A new twist, especially brilliant speech, something touching, but nope... nothing.

So yeah, it's not a bad film. It's actually rather good, great even for those that will appreciate it for its visual style and simple, yet classic story. The latter just wasn't my cup of tea in this case, unfortunately.

Komajuro Arashi and his acting troupe arrive in a small fishing village on the coast of Japan. Komanjuro goes to visit a woman who runs a sake bar, and who, we learn, is a former lover, and with whom he fathered a child, though the child is unaware of this fact and believes him to be his uncle

Their son, Kiyoshi, has just finished high school, and Komanju comes to see him as much as his former lover. He hopes that Kiyoshi will be able to become something in his life and not end up like Komanju himself, a washed-up actor drawing small crowds for his failing samurai productions.

When Komajuro talks with his gorgeous young son, we can see the excitement in his eyes, in his face. The acting here is all rather flat, or better, it's reserved. (Ozu adds a little joke to this later in the film, when on a fishing boat Kiyoshi accuses his father of being "too muggy" in his performance.) This adds to the impact of the few emotional (and physical) outbursts later in the film.

The conflict in the film is that of Komajuro's double lives. When his current mistress, Miss Sumiko -- a jealous and conniving witch of a woman -- discovers that he's been seeing some other woman, she's enraged, and plots what she believes will be his sort of downfall. By hiring a young woman, Kayo, to seduce Kiyoshi and embarrass Komajuro, she plans on making the two seem like different generations of the same person, both relating with unimportant actresses, thereby ruining Komajuro's hopes of his son becoming somebody important.

Unlike most, Ozu is an auteur because of what he doesn't do. His unmoving camera, which is famous, sits placidly, observing the characters with interest. I do sometimes wish that the camera would move around curiously, interested in the conversations of the characters, but maybe Ozu's point was that his camera is (or we should be) too interested to move, and that the events of everyday life need not be jazzed up for entertainment purposes. (He seems to mock this idea when he has Komajuro say to Kiyoshi about his plays that, basically, modern audiences can't appreciate good drama.) The entire film is restrained; on the rare occasion when people cry, they cover their faces and softly whimper.

The ending shot of a dark blue sky, with red lights from a rolling train, reminds us that whether it's 2003 in North America or 1959 in a small Japanese fishing village, we're all the same people with the same problems.

In and of itself, the film is terrifically simple: a simple story, with simple acting, simple music, and made even more simple by the simplicity of the static camera. But what makes the film something special, rather than just some family drama, is the honesty. Ozu isn't after anything big here. Any enlightenment comes from Ozu's realization that the most important conflicts are in the home, the ones no one sees, the ones we all feel.

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