Fleurs d'équinoxe

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.

It's pretty obvious when the film begins that it's one of Yasujirô Ozu's newest films. That's because unlike almost all of his movies, this one is filmed in color. In fact, it's his first color film. Like other Ozu films it features a camera positioned very low--like the cameraman is sitting on the floor. It's odd but works in Ozu's films because of the traditional Japanese tables and futons--all very close to the floor. The plot unfolds very slowly and the film also is a domestic drama--about a daughter who may be marrying and moving out of her home. This is a very common theme--young people moving to adulthood and the sort of conflicts this creates as well as conflicts between traditional and modern values . And, like so many of his later films, it features some of the same old reliable actors. One thing you've gotta say about Ozu--when he found a formula that worked, he REALLY stuck with it. While his films are adored and are often considered masterpieces, there is a strong sense of déjà vu as you watch them!

This is the story of a middle-aged man and his family. Early in on the film, you learn that the father and mother had an arranged marriage--something very common in Japan up until recently. You can tell that Dad was not thrilled by this and he even likes the idea of people picking their own spouses. Yet, when his own daughter wants to marry a man of her choosing, he refuses to give consent. He's adamant--even though he agrees with the concept of allowing your grown children to run their own lives--provided, of course, they are not HIS children! This is MILDLY humorous (it's cute the way the father gets manipulated repeatedly) and a nice critique of post-war Japan--when families, values and norms were all in flux. In other words, this man's conflicts were a mirror of conflicts in Japan as a whole--the old Japan and the new, and much less tradition-bound Japan.

While this is a beautifully made film, you should be aware that like so many of Ozu's films, it has a very leisurely pace. My advice is although he was a wonderful filmmaker, you might first try some more approachable directors films--such as Kurosawa or a Zatoichi film. That's because Western audiences often balk at such slow pacing (particularly here in hyperactive America). If you do watch it, brew a pot of tea or coffee to help you stay focused--it's worth it, as it's a sweet and exceptional film.

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.

Businessman Wataru (Shin Saburi) is continually approached by his friends and co-workers for advice and help, especially when it concerns potential marriages for their daughters. He is approached by Mikami (Ozu regular Chisu Ryu) who is concerned that his daughter has gone off with a man from a lesser family with a low-paid job. He agrees to meet her and try to talk some sense into her. One day at work, he is approached by a man named Maniguchi (Keiji Sada) who asks for his daughter's hand in marriage. Wataru is horrified that his daughter Setsuko (Ineko Arima) has been seeing this man without his knowledge, and insists that marrying him is not the right decision.

Japanese master is again on familiar ground with this gentle drama. Again, he explores themes of family, and change in a post-war Japanese society. Wataru is not a traditionalist by nature - he is generally quite open-minded, but only when it comes to his friend's families. When he has tea with one of Setsuko's friends, she explains how her mother is obsessed with finding her a match with a man with a decent job and background. Wataru is agreed that her mother is stuck in her ways. It becomes clear that Wataru is simply a father who cannot let go of his daughter. It's a sentiment that anyone, even those without children, can relate to.

Ozu does make a point of showing the increasing differences in attitudes between the generations. The parents are children of war. Wataru and his wife Kiyoko (Kinuyo Tanaka) discuss memories of being in the bomb shelters. Ozu doesn't want us to see the elders as narrow-minded and old-fashioned, but instead as people who grew up with danger and death all around them, and clearly hold protection and security in high regard, and for good reason. However, Ozu does show the women of Equinox Flower as the stronger sex, and the biggest advocates for change. Kiyoko tries to change Wataru's mind, but realises that this is a decision he will make on his own.

The film is full of Ozu's usual traits, including the usual gorgeous cinematography - and this is his first to be shot in colour. His camera is ever-still, watching from low angles, usually through doorways. He is offering his audience a window into these people's lives, and allows them to give their naturalistic courtesies as they would if no-one was watching. It is a delight watching a true master at work, and it's amazing how he finds fresh and fascinating ways to explore similar themes. I've never seen any of his films that haven't been anything less than brilliant, and I'm still to see his widely celebrated Tokyo Story (1953). An absolute delight.

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Is there a director in the history of cinema with a more distinct style than Yasujiro Ozu? 1958's Equinox Flower was Ozu's first colour film and concerns itself with one of his favourite themes – the family and it's discontents. The film is set during a time when arranged marriages were being challenged in Japan and it pits the emerging youth of the country, full of post war freedom and optimism, against their traditional parents who are finding it difficult to let go of their customs and ultimately their children.

A Tokyo businessman, Waturu Hirayama, is continually approached by friends for advice, friends who have become powerless as parents and are struggling to impose their will on their daughters. Hirayama's apparent disappointment and resignation regarding his own arranged marriage informs his advice throughout. Consequently he is often conciliatory and impartial, trying his best to get both sides to see each other's point of view. Neither traditional nor modern in his outlook, instead he takes a humanist approach and strives for harmony amongst the protagonists.

However, when a young man he has never met before enters his office and asks him for his own daughter's hand in marriage he finds it difficult to adopt this approach for himself and his family. On the one hand, he is initially hurt by the apparent lack of respect and involvement that he feels he should have been afforded by the young couple. He questions his role as a father and feels castrated by this power being taken out of hands. On the other hand, though, he suffers a sense of loss. He has nothing personal against the young man, and after making enquiries, is assured of his good nature. Nevertheless, rather than gaining a son, he's acutely aware that he is losing a daughter and, with that, some of his own identity. Not only losing her in marriage but also to a new way of life, a new culture where Hirayama is unsure of his role.

In a broader sense, Equinox Flower, also offers an insight into the fast socio-cultural changes in post-war Japan as it becomes more influenced by capitalism and Western culture. Throughout the film, Hirayama alludes to the fact that his business and his workload are becoming increasingly busier. Scenes are often interspersed with images of industrial development and progress mixed with more traditional scenes of mountain ranges, the countryside and churches. It's also worth noting that, throughout the film, it is largely the women that are seen as the advocates of change, trying to find greater equality in a patriarchal society. The men, in comparison, are seen as passive and confused. Japan itself, like Hirayama, is going through a struggle, a process of change that tries to balance the traditional against the modern.

Stylistically, Ozu's cinema is remarkable for those willing to give it a chance. All his trademarks are here – zero camera movement, single character shots and evocative editing techniques. His unwillingness to ever let the camera move allows him to frame scenes as if they were photographs or paintings where the characters then suddenly come to life. His use of colour, here for the first time, is accomplished to say the least. Combine that with some wonderful sets and scenery and at times you could be forgiven for thinking you're watching an old MGM musical. Most remarkable of all, though, are Ozu's trademark tatami-level shots. Using a special camera dolly to simulate the three foot height of the average person kneeling or sitting on a tatami pad, Ozu creates a way of seeing the world that is specifically Japanese, specifically Ozu.

The style is so unique and effective that it's difficult to imagine films being directed any other way. Buy the box sets, ration yourself to one film a year and you're in for a rare treat.