Giorni di gioventù

It's odd to see a first surviving film where the filmmaking is so polished, but this wasn't Yasujiro Ozu's first film. It was his eighth. Still, even in 1929, nearing the end of the sound era, it was still rare to see the subtle filmmaking on display from many directors. I mean, Ozu knew how to imply sound in silent film like the best of them. It's just effortless cuts that make the point and move on without lingering. It's really rather remarkable. The story it's supporting is a lightly comic little narrative about friends fighting over the same girl, but Ozu never feels like he's in a rush to get anywhere. He lingers on story elements, letting them play out in subtle and often amusing ways. It's something of a small joy of a discovery.

Bin Watanabe (Ichiro Yuki) is a studious student at university. Shuichi Yamamoto (Tatsuo Saito) is not studious. Forced to vacate his rented apartment, Shuichi declines those who would take his place if they're men, but he gratefully allows it when it is Chieko (Junko Matsui), a pretty young woman. His effort is just to ingratiate himself to her, leaving behind a picture as an excuse to go back and talk to her. She is also, coincidentally, Watanabe's friend, promising to knit him new socks, a recurring item of interest throughout the film.

The first third of the film is just introducing these characters, getting Shuichi to live with Bin (over Bin's objections), and establishing the romantic desires of both men to the women while also giving us a look at the hard life of study that they should be following. It's buoyed by lightly comic elements that feel like the sorts of things that would be throwaway gags in a Chaplin film, such as Bin getting his palm covered in paint, having tea with Chieko, and accidentally placing that palm on his face. There's a lot of this little business. Nothing hilarious, but almost all nicely humorous.

The action follows the boys taking their exams, having no idea how they did but assuming they'd done terribly (writing their predicted grades on a pane of frosted glass), and then deciding to go to the mountains to ski. Why? Well, because Chieko is going, and they both want to entertain her and make her happy and, potentially, pursue her for marriage.

So, the lightly comic elements move from the city to the mountains with an emphasis on the two discovering their romantic rivalry, trying to sabotage each other (mostly Shuichi trying to sabotage Bin since Bin can't ski), and an unexpected twist that changes the fortunes of all. It's not heavy, or anything, but it's the kind of thing one might expect from a movie made in a more traditional Japan.

And, that's kind of all there is to the film from a storytelling perspective. It's not a whole lot, making the 100-minute long runtime feel a bit overlong in the end, but this is Ozu's pace from the start. There's no rush. He's going to confidently tell a small story in his own time. I don't mind that at all.

However, I have to take some time myself to talk about his craft. I keep thinking of a quick insert shot. If you've seen enough silent films, you realize how rare this kind of filmmaking is for the period especially. There was a great preference from longer, wider takes, and seeing this quick, easy use of a shot of the upper corner of a door sliding shut to imply the sound of it is both extremely simple and extremely rare for the period. And the filmmaking is filled with stuff like this. From deep focus compositions towards the end that see two rooms at once to scenes built through cross-cutting of dialogue to all of the slight visual sight gags that create the comedy. It's a shockingly well made film.

Mostly shockingly well made because it's his earliest surviving film, but perhaps not so much when you note again that its his eighth.

So, it's nice, well-made, and overlong. It's really a very nice introduction to Ozu's body of work.

This early silent movie by Ozu is a one of the typical example of the simplicity of the director. This movie takes place almost in the same environment with very little changes, students bedrooms, mountain resort, sky sloops and bedrooms again. The external scenes are unfortunately a little bit spoilt by the early cinema technology, but still there are some rather catching shoots, one worthy considering is the one where the directors shoots the young man and the wanted lady from behind while they are side by side enjoying the landscape. The two male actors are quite into their part as the student playboy and the shy bookish boy, while the girl looks just like a mere inanimate object around which the whole plot is carried out, but her lack of expression and preferences is perfectly undertaken by the actress and definitely wanted by the director.

On the whole it's a nice easy film, that shows how young students lived like in those days, besides we get to know that things have changed little and that some things are common in any part of the globe. The typical love-triangle is well carried out and in the end the friendship between the two mates is not spoilt by their misadventures and neither the playboy nor the shy could take advantages of the young lady. Moreover all their efforts ended up to be vain, but since they are young and happy they could accept the fact without regretting to much about it. Ozu tells us perfectly how sometimes we should laugh at our youth mistakes or bad luck, instead of letting them driving us crazy. To make a long story short: a brief worth seeing piece of youth everyday life.

This breezy student comedy about the misadventures of two slacker collegians (Ichiro Yuki and Tatsuo Saito, who does a great riff on Harold Lloyd) is Ozu's earliest existing film. The narrative is as incidental as ever but eventually locks into an extended sequence capturing the foibles of a romantic triangle that develops during an extended skiing sequence -- which in itself is a wonder as it's probably the longest exterior sequence Ozu ever filmed. Ozu's filmmaking is more "mainstream" than what he's known for, utilizing dissolves, handheld camerawork and clever point of view shots to capture the thrills and spills of the ski slopes. Ozu's characteristically lovely moments of human intimacy are in evidence, but they have yet to be as sharply composed, pared down to the graphic simplicity that is his hallmark. It seems evident that a younger, more carefree Ozu directed this -- it's relatively slight but extremely affable depiction of youth -- one wonders what wonders Ozu would have done with AMERICAN PIE.

This Ozu film starts with a big, fat tracking shot, seemingly across half of Tokyo before it eventually settles on the lives of two college buddies: Ichirô Yûki and Tatsuo Saitô. Like most college movies of the era, the academic life is something to be dreaded and handwaved away and after they get through finals, it's off to the ski resort, where the real plot of the story begins, the competition over pretty Junko Matsui that has been simmering since the first scene.

When looking at the early works of a great artist, you try to find the roots of his future greatness, but there's little of that here. The Ozu that is revered is still and contemplative and Japanese. This one has a moving camera and pratfalls, an American movie poster on the wall (in this one it's SEVENTH HEAVEN) and product placement for Sun Maid raisins and Libby's canned vegetables. Chishu Ryu is present in a small role as a fearsome professor, the core of Ozu's troupe, but the film is very international in its tenor, as if he is waiting for William Fox to swing through Japan in case the recently hired Leo McCarey doesn't work out. Ozu was 26 when he made this, and still at the stage of his career when he probably didn't know what he wanted to be when he grew up. A buddy comedy about two college boys? Let him at it!

It's obvious in its outline, has good acting and some nice situations. More than that no one can ask.

This is not only the first of the four "student comedies" directed by Ozu Yasujirô but the earliest surviving Ozu we have. The genre came to Japan from imported American films, amongst which Harold Lloyd's The Freshman (1925) was arguably the most influential. The British Film Institute has now released all four of Ozu's films on DVD as part of their gigantic endeavor to release over 30 films (they've now released eighteen).

One could argue that this is far removed from the family dramas of Ozu's 1950s period: exuberant and blithe in contrast to the serious contemplativeness of his later work. I can see where you're coming from if you think like this, but Ozu's too good of a filmmaker to suffer what I think is a serious simplification.

Following Ozu's career is a like film school, really. Here already he's ferociously adventurous when it comes to framing, and the techniques and angles he's implementing show a great understanding of what film can do — remember that film was very new then, only 34 years old. Indeed, as pointed out by Rayns (2012), "Ozu obviously amused himself by experimenting with forms, camera movements and cutting patterns in his early comedies, gangster movies and melodramas." This cinematic zestfulness is as fitting as ever to genre we're dealing with, which is all about youthful exploration.