Otona no miru ehon - Umarete wa mita keredo

I like Yasujiro Ozu's work, but, even after seeing some of those works that are generally considered best, I was still skeptical of his minimalist style. But then I saw the New Yorker VHS of the silent I Was Born, But...

Let me just say that it is absolutely amazing. It's a nearly perfect film, with great direction, great writing, great jokes, and great acting. This is easily one of the best film about children ever made. The story revolves around two young boys whose dad has just moved to the suburbs near his boss. The kids have some trouble fitting in, and a gang of bullies accost them at first. But soon they conquer the leader of the gang and supplant him.

Later in the film, the kids are challenged with their perception of their father. They think he's everything, of course, but they soon find out that he is only a salaryman. They watch his boss' movies, which include shots of the father fooling around for the entertainment of his employer. The children are flabberghasted, and rebel against their father. I have said it is a great film about childhood; it is also a great film about parenting, as the father and mother have to deal with their sons' disappointment.

Please, please watch this film, especially if you have been disappointed with other works such as Tokyo Story. In my opinion, I Was Born, But... is a much better film. 10/10.

Put in simple terms, this is one of the greatest silent movies ever made. Though the film was intended to be screened with live voice-over by a benshi narrator, this masterpiece works stunningly well without sound, because Ozu's

unparalleled sense of visual rhythm, choreographed movement, and humor

keep one's eyes dancing in delight. The story concerns two boys who fight their way to gain status and respect among the local bullies, only to realize that their father is a bottom-feeder among the adults. As such it's loaded with acute

observations of Japanese society, and not without Ozu's penchant for subtle but potent criticism. For people who are used to the "slow" Ozu of the 50s, this film will be a revelation, inspiring speculation as to how and why he changed a style that already was exceptional.

One of the very few silent films where you can hear the magic. Ozu directs I WAS BORN....BUT, the story of 2 brothers growing up in a small town Japan. Beautifully filmed with a wonderful, down to earth story of childhood joys and sorrows. Keep in mind, although sad, this was filmed in 1932. Just about every child in this film would grow up and fight (and most likely die) in World War 2. With this in mind, the film with hope and innocence. Still, knowing the possible future, you can't help but see the ending as somewhat sad.

This is remarkably gentle stuff, I felt completely exhilarated whilst watching, an intimate openness like being welcomed into someone's home on an afternoon. It helps that it's a silent, they were still making them in Japan by that time albeit usually with what was called a benshi narrating the whole, it abets the languid flow of childhood spring that permeates the whole thing.

It is cleverly structured, again a gentle touch but carefully applied; two brothers new on the block have to carve their own space while fending off a gang of bullies, this is mirrored in the adult world by having their father similarly have to struggle for advancement in the working place.

The extra layer is our insight into the beginnings of the Showa period; capitalist industrialization is intensified, Western styles increasingly applied over traditional mores. The adults are smartly dressed in suits, wear hats, smoke cigars. The family's house is situated on the side of railroad tracks, now and then trains come shooting off in the back of the frame, constant reminders of a modern life lunging forwards.

Again this is cleverly mirrored in the weave of the film itself, the specific image of the house by the tracks recalling La Roue, a French film that had spoken very clearly to the Japanese with its transient world of circular suffering. The whole carries hues of Chaplin's bittersweet whimsy, with a mobile camera derived from Sternberg, another favorite of early Japanese filmmakers. There is no benshi narrating this, just the intertitles, another Western norm.

Having just asserted power in their microcosm, the kids eventually discover that their father is a servile buffoon, a kind of court jester at the office; this revelation tearing down the facade of respectability the kids were looking up to, implicitly posits the whole working structure to be feudal, with the capitalist boss as just another kind of daimyo surrounded by fawning servants. This happens in a superb scene where everyone is gathered at the house of the boss to watch this newfangled thing called the movies. So it is the cinematic reflection that reveals truth, it was exciting to discover this moment of self-reference in a Japanese film of the time.

So even though Ozu's name usually brings to mind connotations of a purity distilled from tradition, this is breezy stuff, attuned with an emerging film culture abroad, explicitly modern in view and subject matter.

And knowing what we do now, there is biting commentary in the parting notion; asked what they want to do when they grow up, the two brothers very seriously assert that they want to be generals. The Japanese army had just invaded Manchuria the previous year.

This Ozu's early silent film was made when he was only 29, at a formative age, he has already acquired a keen eye on sieving the callous doctrine of the society's pecuniary pecking order through the lens of two kids' growing dismay and perplex.

Two school-age brothers Ryoichi (Sugawara) and Keiji (Aoki) are moving to suburbs with their parents, a shrewd move of their father Yoshi (Saitô, a virtuoso player jostle between primness and clownishness) to hobnob with his boss Iwasaki (Sakamoto). With a good salary, they can afford a better life here, but the boys have some difficulty to find their feet, especially when they are picked on by school bullies, led by a bigger kid (Iijima), they play truant and laze around, ask an older delivery boy (Kofujita) to forge teacher's signature, all child's play and they would be reprimanded by Yoshi when the lid is blown off. Nevertheless, Ozu applies a very gentle touch and a ludic attention in limning the boys' daily expediency to tackle with their problems (there are not enough sparrow's eggs in the world to beat their bully), and eventually the scale would be tipped when they are wise enough to crack the knack of how to succeed in becoming an alpha dog, even Taro (Katô), Iwasaki's son, has to pay deference to the boys' whims. (a children's game but so rapier-like in its connotation linked to the power struggle in the adult world.)

Then comes a blow, during a friends-gathering in Iwasaki's place, where films of daily vignettes are screened, a galling discovery would inflame the brothers' chutzpah to brazenly question their father's authority, "are you a successful person?", "why can't you be successful?", it is a blow to the brothers' unwitting but vaunted ego, which certainly doesn't tally with their young age, and is a corollary of a society spurred and indoctrinated by sheer competition and capitalism, even for kids, they are possessed with the idea of supremacy, power and hubris, which outstrips the parameter of childish mischief. In retrospect, the film grants us a gander into the frame-of-mind of a pre-WWII Japan, but not prescient enough to pinpoint a more perspicacious outlook, instead, an anodyne finale betrays Ozu's own perspective at that time.

The children in the film are well-trained scamps, endearing to watch, especially Tomio Aoki as the younger brother, transforms the disadvantage of his less photogenic looks into something archly expressive with all the gurning, imitating and feigning, a farceur is in the making. A minor grouch to Donald Sosin's persistent attendant score, a relentless cascade of tunefulness can certainly overstay its welcome. Anyhow, a lesser comedy branded with Ozu's name is still worth visiting, not the least for the sake of his masterful tutelage and coordination of his exuberant pupils in front of the camera.