Tarda primavera

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.

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.

"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.

The revelation of Noriko's wedding dress is perhaps the most powerfully painful moment of cinema I've ever experienced. The contrast between her freedom before her wedding, the moving camera (very foreign to Ozu) her range of emotion, her geographical and social freedom, and the deeply disturbing oppression that her wedding signals is very affecting. It is gutting. And so devastating that she accepts her oppression. Powerful, if needing commitment and patience. Especially the six minutes of the impenetrable Noh play.

"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.