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A heartwarming, amazing, impeccable film.

I still remember the shock I felt when I saw this. Such a visually radical, contemplative film full of so much emotion that it's bursting at the seams. The same atmospheric quietude that there's in all of his late films, contemplative but so telling and never silent, much like the performances, particularly that of Hara Setsuko. Then there's the humor: there are some of the most hilarious things in this film that I know of, including Chaplin, Keaton, Lloyd and the Marx brothers.

The story appears simple, of course. That's the Ozu way — a simple skeleton that he uses to build on, visually, above all. The first shot at the beginning of the film, perhaps the third or fourth of the whole film, when we enter the house for the first time, is such a powerful transitory shot spatially that it gives me goosebumps: first a few introductory shots outdoors, the train station and so on, and then suddenly we enter the confined space of the house as if we were lying on our belly on the ground, looking at a room from the far end of the hallway. And then Noriko (Hara) enters.

The movie is full of such magical moments. The most famous scene of the film, that at the Noh theatre, is one, them leaving Kyoto for the last time is another, the final scene of the film being the logical emotional climax. It's marvelous, really: it's not over the top as if it tried either to go for realism or mechanically manipulate our emotions. On the contrary, I believe Ozu succeeds emotionally because his films open quietly and slowly. He doesn't push us into accepting anything, and he doesn't push his characters into doing anything, either. Marvelously crafted as if everything just appeared in front of our eyes without any rehearsal. It's a sign of a great filmmaker to let us into the film so deeply. The images stay.

Gentle, poignant, moving, Ozu sticks to his customary style and develops the usual themes of the challenges life decisions, (marriage, attitudes of children to their parents, getting old) and how they affect a contemporary Japanese family. These are universal themes however and have resonance throughout time and across the continents. By the second half of this film you will wonder how you managed to become so absorbed in a story which seemed positively pedestrian in the first scenes. This is the genius of Ozu.

This is beautiful to look at, the director's legendary obsession with detail and the position of objects once again brings us interiors which are each a work of art, inter-cut with beautiful exterior landscapes and accompanied by some of the most soothing violin music you will ever hear, this is a real gem.

In the post-WWII Japan, the twenty-seven year-old Noriko Somiya (Setsuko Hara) lives a simple but happy life with her fifty-seven year-old widower father, the college professor Shukichi Somiya (Chishu Ryu) in the suburb of Tokyo. Noriko has recovered from a disease she had during the war, and her aunt Masa Taguchi (Haruko Sugimura) and her friend Aya Kitagawa (Yumeji Tsukioka) press her to get married. However, Noriko would rather stay single and taking care of her beloved father. When Masa finds a promising fiancé to Noriko, she tells that her father will remarry sooner, forcing the reluctant Noriko to take a decision.

"Banshun" is another wonderful movie of the Japanese director Yasujiro Ozu about his favorite theme: family and human relationship. Ozu discloses through a very simple storyline, the relationship of a widowed father and his mature daughter and the need of a woman to get married with an arranged marriage as a natural order of life in the traditional Japan, a beautiful and touching story, supported by awesome performances and using a magnificent camera work, with symmetrically framed images and unusual angles. My vote is eight.

Title (Brazil): "Pai e Filha" ("Father and Daughter")

"Late Spring" (Japanese, 1949): Every time I see another Yasujiro Ozu film, I am more amazed and further impressed. As a director, he was a master of understated elegance. Think of him as a moving wood block print, or an extended Haiku poem. His images, symbols, photography, composition, editing, dialog, story… they're all controlled to a masterful degree, and patiently lead you from one point to another. "Late Sprint" is the story about an older daughter who has never left her father. She is completely satisfied to stay at home caring for him (the mother died many years earlier). Everyone is concerned about her, applies pressure, and she resists. The father realizes it is he alone who might convince her to enter Life on new terms. Do NOT take Ozu's landscapes and city scenes as mere non-story scenery. Instead, watch for them to represent current conditions, emotions, and truths.

This is my favorite Ozu film. I like to think that it is an homage to Italian Neorealism. But I'm mostly writing in defense against those who don't like Setsuko Hara's acting. First of all, whenever we western audience viewers critique someone's acting, the main argument is that it's not realistic.

Well, I would like to say that Hara did a very realistic portrayal of her character. The women of 1949 Japan had her mannerisms that we will probably find "annoying".

This is a difficult film for those who are not used to "Eastern" style of films. Especially ones from the 1940s. As long as we watch with an open mind, the theme of the film is as universal as it can get. Who knows? In 50 years, someone will make fun of Naomi Watts' acting in "21 Grams" deeming it unrealistic.

Robin Woods in his fascinating new book of criticism "Sexual Politics and Narrative Film" writes eloquently about this film as a defining example of Ozu's films progressive nature. I would agree and add wholeheartedly that even after reading Wood's non-traditional take on Ozu I was still blown away by the film's rich identification with the character of Noriko (played by the legendary Setsuko Hara). The story is simple: Noriko a single Japanese woman is living a seemingly happy life caring for her widowed aging father. Social pressures, however, force family and friends to believe that Noriko can only be fulfilled by entering into marriage, although Noriko seems to have no interest in marriage herself. With this simple narrative Ozu is able to create a relationship between his characters that is so rich and complete we feel we know them. As always this is done with the smallest of carefully studied behavior and the precision of mise-en-scene over fancy editing and dazzling camera movements. A wonderful, heartbreakingly real movie from one of Japan's greatest directors.

"Late Spring" remains possibly Ozu's perfect depiction of postwar Japanese family life; this study of a widower (Chishu Ryu) and his unmarried daughter (Setsuko Hara) and the societal pressures to conform (they are happy with their lives, but all their friends and relatives think the daughter must get married) is full of subtle humor, gentle poignancy, and sharp insights. The ending, with the father left all alone, is devastating: it is difficult to express in words how the act of peeling an apple can be made to convey so much emotion, but Ozu's mastery is such that he is able to make this gesture seem as earth-shattering as the most special-effects laden action climax.

I've watched this film many times and love it very much. Ozu made Hara perfectly beautiful in this film. Noriko devoted her father and didn't want to marry because of him. He would be lonely if she married. Father and daughter lived happily together, but when she saw an elegant widow at Noh theather, she had jealousy. Hara Setsuko's acting was perfect as Noriko who was in love with her own father. No other actress could act like that. She was only Noriko. So director Ozu didn't change her role name Noriko for Setsuko Hara. Noriko in Banshun(Late Spring), Noriko in Bakushu(Early Summer),Noriko in Tokyo Monogatari(Tokyo Story) and I am Noriko as Setuko Hara's No.1 fan in Japan.

"I just want to be with you, like this."

A film that was made with excellent craftsmanship and certainly highly polished, but too tranquil, too gentle for my taste to truly love, even though it is communicating one of life's most moving emotions, that of bittersweet sadness over inevitable change and separation.

Japan in 1949 was occupied, and there are numerous post-war references in clothing, advertisements, and kids playing baseball, all of which reflect change and westernization. A man is said to look like Gary Cooper, there's a reference to a scene from a William Hart film, and even the book the father packs for a train ride has an English cover, Thus Spake Zarathustra by Nietzsche (interesting choice). Among young women who appear to be traditional or at least nice people, there is discussion of divorce and pregnancy outside of marriage, reflecting shifting values. We also see traditional things, such as the etiquette of serving food and sake, a tea ceremony, an extended Noh performance, and a Zen rock garden. These elements seem to be put side by side to say that Japan is gradually changing, just as Hara's character must change, even though she doesn't realize it. I really liked this parallel, but the degree of the daughter's filial devotion didn't resonate with me, as it seemed to border a little on traditionalist fantasy.

Ozu puts a lot of care into shot composition, and I adored those of trees blowing gently in the wind, the train lumbering its way into the city, and the very pretty Setsuko Hara bicycling out to the shore with a friend in what was perhaps my favorite scene. Where he falls short for me is in his scenes with dialogue, where I think he takes this feeling of harmony and precision too far. We see close shots on the actors each in turn, both with smiles plastered to their faces, talking gently back and forth. It's too harmonious, almost like an episode of the 1950's American TV Show 'Leave it to Beaver,' and doesn't feel authentic. To be fair though, Hara has some nice moments of angst, such as when her aunt suggests that she should get married and her father should find a second wife, and the film's final shot is touching.

I guess I needed more of that, but know it's just a matter of personal taste - in literature I respect but struggle to love authors who write elegantly but without passion or a sense of the darker aspects of our souls, and I think it's the same here. I compare the feeling of post-war Japan here to some of Ozu's contemporaries, and am just drawn more to others, that's all.

This is the first film by Ozo that I have seen and it's a revelation. I have the feeling that I entered a new world which I am eager to explore further.

The film is made in 1949, four years after the defeat of Japan, but there are no ruins in sight, on the contrary, landscapes are proper and well maintained, homes are clean and nothing seems to be missing, people live their lives in a way that seems to go on for centuries. The American presence is just hinted by a Coca-Cola sign, or English inscriptions at train stations. Maybe a political statement by Ozu about the perennial continuity of the Japanese civilization despite the destruction Japan had just gone through.

The war is also hardly remembered and hidden back in the past. We learn that the principal hero Noriko (wonderfully acted by Ozu's preferred actress of the period Setsuko Hara) was interned in a labor camp during the war, but nothing in her demeanor and certainly not her radiant smile lets anybody feel about her suffering. She loves being at home and taking care of her father (Chishu Ryu, another favorite actor of Ozu) with a devotion that is troubled only by the insistence of the family to get her married, as social customs demand for a young woman of her age. Eventually she will be curved into accepting a marriage arrangement under pressure by her caring aunt and by her father, who would make anything to have her happy, but only according to the customs and their own conceptions.

It's wonderful to watch how this delicate family drama is being filmed, with a taste and aesthetic balance that makes of each scene a masterpiece worth being seen for its own. Ozu is also a master of using soundtrack, and his matching of visuals and sound sometimes equally effective in creating emotion reminds the use that Hitchcock makes of music in his films.

There is a lot of symbolism in this movie, and I certainly have lost some of the more subtle messages because of my lack of familiarity with Japanese customs and culture. And yet this film is at the same time simple, as well as modern and universal in look, we can resonate with the characters and I had less difficulty in understanding their emotions than in many other Japanese or Far East movies seen through the perspective of my 'western' eyes. At the same time the film has a wonderful human dimension, we can see on screen a story of love and affection between two people who need and are willing to make a huge sacrifice in order for the other one to be happy. This combination of emotions, simplicity and art cinema makes of this movie a real treat.

The movie itself just felt like a long drawn out episode of a TV show. It didn't really have a happy or sad ending it just kind of ended. To be fair, it was exactly what the log line said it would be. It wasn't like it was a bad movie, I simply saw it as just a movie nothing much more nothing less. There was a bit of intrigue with the connection between characters but the emotion it was trying to invoke didn't push through to me. While I am not a daughter, nor a father and may not understand the dynamic, it really did not sit with me the same way it seems to sit with others. That is why I emphasize that it is my opinion and I may not be knowledgeable enough on the feelings that one in those dynamics may endure.

The concept of mono no aware is said to define the essence of Japanese culture. The phrase means "a sensitivity to things", the ability to experience a direct connection with the world without the necessity of language. Yasujiro Ozu sums up this philosophy in Late Spring, a serene depiction of the acceptance of life's inevitabilities and the sadness that follows it. The film shows the pressure in Japanese families for children to be married as the "natural order" of things, regardless of their wishes. One wonders if Ozu, who never married, is sharing his own family experience with us.

In Late Spring, a widowed Professor, Somiya (Chishu Ryu), must face the inevitability of giving up his daughter, Noriko (Setsuko Hara) to marriage. Noriko, however, wants only to continue to live at home and care for her father and insists that marriage is not for her. Yet the social pressure to marry continues to build, coming not only from her father but also from Somiya's sister Masa (Haruko Sugimura) whom she calls "Auntie", and from a friend, the widower Onodera (Masao Mishima) who has recently remarried. Masa, unrelenting, presents Noriko with a prospect named Satake who reminds her of actor Gary Cooper, but she is still reluctant. To make it easier for Noriko to decide, Somiya tells her that he is planning to remarry and she will no longer need to take care of him. Noriko's agonizes over her decision and her once beaming face increasingly carries hints of resignation. At the end, the old man sits alone peeling a piece of fruit as the ocean waves signal the inexorable flow of timeless things.

LATE SPRING is another insightful look at 20th century Japanese life by master film-maker Yasujiro Ozu. A really perfect film. A great script that centres around a wonderful father/daughter dynamic as it probes into generational gaps, tradition, marriage and life during the reconstruction of post-war Japan. Beautiful acting by Chishu Ryu and Setsuko Hara bring to life screenwriter Kôgo Noda's realistically written characters. As always Ozu threats both his audience and characters with the respect they deserve. The image of Setsuko Hara in her wedding clothes is certainly one of cinema's most beautiful and touching moments. A genuine masterpiece!

As in the films of Bresson, to Ozu the purity of style always coincides with an uncompromising moral perspective. He never lets his characters nor his audience get away from a profound dilemma with an easy answer. Thus, Ozu's films are always veritably life-enhancing, exhaustive, in the word's most definitive meaning. In "Late Spring" Ozu's mature, extremely laconic style is at its most developed before his subsequent films in which he went to define it even further. The movement of the camera is precisely considered; it is often positioned approximately one meter from the ground, and often left to explore the space long after the action has taken place.

The lingering narrative of "Late Spring" fits very well for Ozu's understated poetry which encapsulates his whole vision of humanity and the world. The impressionistic picking of details in the aesthetics triggers associations to various thematic contrasts, such as infinity and insularity, but in addition to such stylization the film bears a striking resemblance to Italian neo-realism with its documentary-like observations and dark visual tones.

The quiet emptiness of the beginning shots -- the essence of Ozu's poetics -- and their atmosphere remain as an echo in all of the scenes of "Late Spring" where there are no superfluous images. In his unique style Ozu has set the rhythmic pace for the junctions of the scenes with brief shots of nature that seem to express the transience of life; the importance of moments; and their absolute beauty.

Once again Ozu deals with the theme of collision of generations as people must ponder responsibility and freedom with regards to tradition and family. Not surprisingly, the film has no black and white solutions to offer. Ozu's honest pessimism, his Chekhovian wisdom of life; and Buddhist acceptance merge together in the beauty of his aesthetics. At its heart, "Late Spring" is one of his most profound meditations on happiness, its pursuit, limits, nature and impossibility.

When it comes to the story or narrative of "Late Spring," it is vital to discuss inner drama. For this is truly a film about characters who cannot express themselves, their true desires and wishes. It is to them whom Ozu gives his silent and tender interpretation, understanding their deepest experience of existence. In this sense, "Late Spring" can be seen as a universal tragedy of the difficulty of expressing oneself; of revealing one's innermost emotions and dreams.

In most of Yasujiro Ozu's movies, and in all of the ones seen by me, the people are, more or less, middle class. In "Late Spring," that description holds just barely, as the characters belong to the extreme academic elite. (I did a postdoc in Japan, but didn't move in circles anywhere near that rarefied.)

"Late Spring" tells the story of a widowed father and his single daughter. The father, a professor of considerable status, is very much an iconoclast, with a familiarity with foreign cultures that is deep and broad. The daughter, at ease among her father's colleagues, casually eats bread and bakes cakes herself. In many circumstances, these behaviors surely precipitate hails of abuse faster than you can say Masao Miyamoto. Yet the father has not hardened into a simplistic contrarian or provocateur, but shows a broad-minded appreciation of the variety of things wanted from life, and a far-sighted sense of the effort needed to attain them.

Although the daughter is growing a bit old for marriage, she and her father have a comfortable and interesting relationship, and they could easily go on for some time as they are. Marriage would be an unpleasant disruption, as the father is otherwise alone, and the daughter, not in love with anyone, cannot expect to find a match as sophisticated and companionable. But there is no future for her in remaining single.

Like, and in contrast to, Spielberg's "A.I.," with its negative illustration that love entails a concern for the other's future, "Late Spring" has a strong positive illustration of this -- the father's love for the daughter is especially palpable. The movie follows father and daughter feeling out things during the course of work, at home, and among friends. While the plot is in one sense pedestrian, in another sense, this is a critical point in their lives, and it is extremely dramatic, not despite but because of the absence of false melodrama. And it is a pleasure to spend two hours observing these thoughtful and fully human characters.

By most descriptions, the father merely pretends to toy with the idea of remarrying so his daughter will let go, and in fact plans to live out his days alone. But I don't see the father as having completely closed off the possibility. A marriage is arranged for the daughter, one that strikes me as realistic and nice. What does come poignantly to an end with the daughter's wedding is the life shared with her father.

This is an excellent Japanese drama by one of its greatest directors.The story is quite simple but directed masterfully and leaves you thinking for a long time after the watching.I just want to comment on one aspect which seems to me very important for better understanding of the movie and which hasn't been tackled upon yet by other viewers.I don't think that the father's only concern about his daughter is her just getting married.It is especially seen in the scene where he is talking about the issue with a woman in the bar at the end of the film.There is some feeling of selfish future plans on both sides while they smile and talk to each other.I think that Noriko felt it,too, but couldn't go against her father's will.This is something that is not stated clearly,but rather hinted by certain phrases,looks,smiles and emotions. Highest recommendations.A true gem!

Late Spring was the film that made me discovered Ozu, and it was a powerful experience. I am still amazed at the level of intensity of feelings reached in this film with apparently so little effects. I also discovered Setsuko Hara in that film and I was hooked from that unforgettable moment when her smile fades from her face on hearing her aunt mention the possible remarriage of her father. Ozu's films made me discovered a new way of filming people and their relationships to each other. For instance the often mentioned low camera position he used emphasizes the feet of his actors and makes the viewer aware of the different footsteps of each character- Setsuko Hara's feet for instance seem to dance, barely touching the mat(tatami). We thus experience a perspective on the human body different from western films which tends to focus on the upper part of the body and make little case of feet. I think Ozu's films are a striking example of the possibility to reach out to a distant viewer both in space and in time while remaining rooted in its specific culture without concessions.

Yasujiro Ozu has been hailed as one of the great masters of cinema for years. I have to agree with those film scholars and critics because Late Spring is a prime example of good cinema. Everything in this film flows like a gentle river. I was fascinated and completely thrilled by every second of this great work of art. Setsuko Hara and Chishu Ryu are just wonderful. You just have to forget about classical Hollywood montage and editing, you will not find any of those rules here. The master create all new ones and I guarantee that if you try one, you will want to see more of his films. This was the third work by Ozu that I had the chance to watch and I can't hardly wait to see another one.

Sincerely, I urge anybody that love cinema to see this one, quite simply one of the greatest films I have seen. 10/10