Herbes flottantes

... 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.

"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.

Ozu is a wonderful experience just to watch the musical formations. Each shot is composed in the most careful way so that the assembly has a geometric rhythm. It is soft and melodic, this visual overlay, painting in motion. No one does it better that I know.

There's a talk between two troubled lovers in the rain, then in opposing shelters, that is especially noteworthy, but it is all so cinematically lovely...

The way he's put this together is very Japanese. Each shot length is nearly precisely the length of the one before. Each employs a stationary camera only, but the positioning of the camera only sometimes is where a human eye would be. As I've mentioned, The composition in terms of elements, space and color is perfect in each shot and follows in a deliberate, engineered pattern from the previous shots.

The narrative isn't integrated in the way Kurosawa would do — and be considered un-Japanese for. But the story does much of that for us.

It is a story about pretense and staging, with most of the actors playing characters who are actors and have trouble in being an actor.

You'll have to work to be engaged in the story. But its rather easy to just sit back and admire the loveliness. Ozu is always worth it for this. I don't know many of his films, but this is the most formal of those I know.

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

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.