Tôkyô boshoku

Generally considered to be Ozu's bleakest film which is, perhaps, why it's often placed behind "Tokyo Story" and "Late Spring", funnier and gentler if not less powerful works , in this director's canon. I would agree with this assessment and ranking although it's a bit like saying "The Possessed" is Doestoevsky's third best novel. I mean it's still a shattering experience that stays with you long after you've finished it and demands to be re-visited. I would especially like again to view the character of the loving but strangely passive mom who walks out on her marriage and kids but wants and expects immediate forgiveness from her children. Ozu and his co scenarist Kogo Noda's treatment of her is amazingly good, bringing out both the monstrousness and humanity of this person so that you are both appalled by and sympathetic toward her. And the downward spiral of Akiko, which in the hands of a lesser director would descend the tear jerking path, is looked at with compassion tempered with a rather cold eyed realism in the scenes at the police station and the abortion clinic. And Chishu Ryu and Setsuko Hara, re-enacting the father/daughter relationship of "Late Spring" but with the interesting difference that Hara's character is married but separated, meet on a more equal plane of maturity, in my opinion, than in the earlier work that makes their scenes together fuller and less sentimental. So while your tear ducts are drier your mind is more engaged. And, come to think of it, maybe that's another reason why this film has been unjustly neglected, at least in the West. Give it an A.

This is my fifth Ozu film. And as I watch more of his movies my respect for his genius keeps on growing. He is more avant-garde than any other film maker I have seen.

While others use wars as backdrop to create a more touching drama, wars just find a small reference in his films even if his characters have lived through them. While other use death as a dramatic pivot for the whole movie, Ozu skips it altogether. People do die in his films, but they do it off screen. There are no famous last dialogs about life or last moments.

But despite these things or maybe because of these things, his movies are more poignant and touching than any other I have seen. I don't really cry while watching his movies. Instead they leave me in a strange tranquil state of mind, wistfully smiling.

Another thing to note is that while his movies reveal more about Japanese culture than any other movies I have seen, at the same time they are very universal.

If you haven't seen any movie by Yasujiro Ozu, I recommend starting with Tokyo Story or Good Morning. This one seems much longer as it takes some time to start and is devoid of humor. This is not meant as a criticism, Tokyo Twilight is still an amazing experience. But I think an average viewer should start with something else.

This is the last film that Yasujiro Ozu made in black and white and it is an outstanding achievement in every way. He has used his tried and trusted team of composer Saito, art director Hamada and one of the two cameramen that he regularly used, Yuharu Atsuta, whose 'framing' is superb. The performances are simply splendid. Seksuko Hara never ceases to amaze. Isuzu Yamada, very touching as the mother, gave a stupendous portrayal the same year as Lady Macbeth in Kurosawa's 'Throne of Blood'. The performance that dominates however is that of Ineko Arima as the young woman overcome by despair and feelings of worthlessness. This film is intensely moving and one in which Ozu has achieved the perfect balance of simplicity and depth, restraint and emotion. Must be seen.

Ozu's stock company runs through variations on their unhappy yet loyal relationships to each other: Chishû Ryû as the father who tried his best and failed; Setsuko Hara as the seemingly obedient daughter, and so forth; the middle class home; the little bar around the office. It's all there and all as familiar as the nail's level view -- a bent-down nail, because the nail that sticks up gets hammered down.

We're told that Ozu is very Japanese and I wouldn't understand, but I find his world very familiar, even if everyone speaks Japanese. Growing up, I didn't understand Yiddish -- I still don't -- but my parents and uncles and aunts did and held conversation in it when they didn't want us to understand. Sometimes the discussions would escalate to shouting, and when I would ask what was going on, I would be told "You wouldn't understand." I understood they were unhappy, and for a child, there's nothing more frightening.

So that's what Ozu seems like to me: the same people, the same problems, the same language so I wouldn't understand -- but with subtitles. With the same cast, just like my family. As Wayne said to Howard Hawks, this time, can I play the drunk?

A fairly dark story for Ozu, but you know what? I think that shows Ozu can do just a little different than what everyone expects of him. The ingredients of this stuff isn't just melodrama, it's soap opera - disappointed father, absentee mother, an abortion, and a closed off young woman who doesn't know what to do with herself, certainly not around the deadbeat man in her life. But it's how Ozu goes about - I felt deeply for this family since it builds from a place that just feels real - and awkward in its reality. I think in many of Ozu's films the kind of nice-ness people have to one another (I don't know if this is just in Japan or just elsewhere) is a cover for what they really think and feel.

A lot of what is in the early parts of Ozu films are mundane, just pleasantries, making tea, talking some minor gossip or 'how was your day' stuff. But then it goes into some areas that are much darker, or just can't be seen by the surface of the rituals of Japanese familial ties and relations. And in this film Ozu really made it a point that this family is torn by secrets and lies, and it's so under the surface that it becomes palpable. And there's a noirish quality here that works interestingly, as the sister Akika stews away with her secret in a bar, and doesn't even know the bigger secret about her birthright (and a tinny song Ozu plays often in the film, even in the most tragic scenes, adds a whole other level of the familiar but sadness).

I was touched by Tokyo Twilight, and it wasn't a sudden effect - it came over me gradually, like an old friend coming by and then finding out through a long and staggering conversation what hard times there have been. It's tragedy in full dimensions