Crisântemos Tardios

I wish I spoke fluent Japanese--then I am sure I could have enjoyed the movie so much more. That's because this movie had horrible subtitles and often sentences or more were simply left untranslated or 50 words in Japanese were distilled down to only 3 or 4 words. In essence, the translators were very lazy and did a terrible job. Some might not mind this, but since I am a very avid fan of Japanese films it seriously detracted from the experience. This does NOT mean it is unwatchable or you should avoid it. In fact, if anyone knows of a better version available to Western audiences, let me know.

The plot itself seems very familiar and is reminiscent of some other films, as its main ideas are respect for your elders and unrequited love. The main character is madly in love with his step-brother's nursemaid and the family strongly opposes it. I don't really think I need to divulge more but felt that the actors did a fine job and the story itself was interesting.

UPDATE: There is a new DVD version from Criterion and I assume it's much better than the DVD I saw. Criterion always seems to do good jobs with subtitles on their film releases.

Fantastically shot and definitely ahead of its time when it comes to its technical qualities (well, the visuals more so than the sound, but you get used to the kind of muffled dialogue pretty quickly). You could tell me it was from the 1950s, maybe even the early 1960s, and I'd believe you.

But it was also so boring and left me incredibly cold. It's like a 9/10 for how it's made, but a 3/10 for how it's written and paced. I'm surprised and jealous that other people seem to get so much out of it. That may sound shallow, or it may seem unfair to say those things, but to me, it's a beautiful and impressive snooze of a film.

Mizoguchi's 1939 masterwork is one that sneaks up on you to where its ending is so devastating because of how Mizoguchi never gives you that tight two shot or intense close ups. You have to WATCH this film but it can bring you in unexpectedly; shots at first may appear to be languid, veering maybe towards an early Bela Tarr film. But not too soon after it begins Mizoguchi's feminist (scatch that, simply a deeply felt humanist) view of the world, that oppression from familial obligations and guilt creates the tragedy of it all.

The Kabuki and theatrical performances were the only parts I felt things lag a bit for me; I readily admit not being from Japan or understanding this anachronistic style (ironically but correctly Mizoguchi ups his pace for cutting in these scenes, there are more cuts and more reactions from the audience). I nevertheless think this is so powerful because of the purity of its story, that it is challenging the hierarchical structure of the period while coming to a conclusion in its final section where artistic triumph and tragic fate collide.

Some may actually read into Osuka that she is a "doormat", like how can she look past anything she wants all for a man who, for much of the story - a man cant live up to his own standards as an actor, or to his families demands for him to be the next BIG actor in line, so he leaves home to cut his own path, with this woman who was once his little brothers wet nurse as his lover but more importantly his booster - lacks confidence. But I found myself rooting for him and finding that he was not unsympathetic; when he does get angry and pissy at one point the feeling is not hate but one of "come on you can put it together! Do it for her if nothing else!"

There is suffering, quite so much so. But is showing the status quo, how men use women, being a critique here or simply showing it as it was/is in 1939 and before? So much of Last Chrysanthemum is painful to watch, yet in a way that I can never pull away from. A lot of it comes back to how he uses the camera and editing - take a key moment between these two people near the end and he never goes for the easy close up or two shot, we have to see this from one end of the room, but the emotion is laid bare - and that everyone in the cast knows how to play for it being about the firmness, even sanctuary nature, of the status quo.

At times melodramatic as any soap but directed with the fluidity and timing of a confident old master (Mizoguchi was 40 when he made this, and really John Ford and his long, absorbing masters and mediums are a better comparison than Tarr), this was an experience that brought me in gradually from one melancholic but realistically drawn scene after another. Certainly not something to watch to get in a "happy" mood, but then when is with this filmmaker? (still not quite so soul crushing as Sansho the Bailiff, but close).

No one could hold a static shot longer than Japanese director Kenji Mizoguchi-and be highly praised for it. In what is regarded as his pre-World War Two masterpiece, Mizoguchi's October 1939 "The Last of the Chrysanthemums," the 140-minute movie contains half the shots of what a normal Hollywood film has, giving credence to his moniker, the "one scene-one long shot" director. Mizoguchi avoided close-ups, preferring his camera to be like a fly on the wall, observing at a distance the drama unfolding in front. He spiced this with an occasional dolly move from one room to another.

Film reviewer James Berardinelli observed, "Opting for long, unbroken takes from mid-range (there are no close-up), the director relied on dollies and cranes to all the camera to move seamlessly from one location to another. Although this approach creates a distance between the viewer and the characters and makes us more like voters than participants, it does nothing to diminish the story's emotional impact."

During one crucial sequence where Kikunosuke Onoe, aka Kiku (Shotaro Hanayagi in his movie debut), the adopted son of popular kabuki actor Kikugoro Onoue (Gonjuro Kawarazaki), leaves his family, Mizoguchi sustains a single nine-minute shot moving from one room to the other to capture the anger of his father. At the same time he shows Kiku's mother emoting how sad she is on her son's departure. The sequence, notes film critic John Pym, is a great example of Mizoguchi's use of a sparse interior "offset by shots of notably uncluttered spaces," featuring his static shots "crammed with human detail."

Mizoguchi's film, based on a short story by Shofu Muramatsu, opens with Kiku stinking up the joint acting in onnagata dramas, where he plays female roles just like his father. Everyone is afraid to tell Kiku his acting is bad, except for Otoku (Kakuko Mori), a nurse in his father's household. She's fired from her job for being too close to Kiku, who wants to marry her. After Kiku leaves his parents, he sticks to acting, spending many years with Otoku, who becomes his common law wife. Because his level of acting pays so little, he experiences dire poverty for the sake of honing his craft. Finally, his performances are much improved, but he needs help from his father to get the opportunities to prove he's a much greater talent than he was previously. The elder Onoue agrees, with one stipulation: he breaks from Otoku. This sets up one of the saddest endings in Japanese cinema, according to several critics.

Mizoguchi's films emphasize women's plight in Japanese society, both historically and in contemporary times. "The Last of the Chrysanthemums" harkens back to the late 1800's in Tokyo and Osaka. "With more said by showing less, operatic heartbreak and sentimentality and anger are pictured in formal precision, not a moment or scene or actor out of place," writes film critic Donald Levit.

"The Last of the Chrysanthemums" was ranked by BBC critics as the 88th best non-English film in the history of cinema, while the British Film Institute selected it as one of the top ten best films ever made. Mizoguchi, who is largely known for his later works such as 1953's "Ugetsu" and 1954 "Sansho the Baliff," has this 1939 motion picture included in '1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die.'

A towering achievement, a tour de force of cinematic magic. A film that was ahead of it's time just as Jean Renoir and Orson Welles those years... The beautiful very long takes, one after another with elegance, emotions, and not a single close-up take, were something never seen before 1939. One of the greatest and most groundbreaking films ever made.

It's just a shame that this film is not famous, even in the expert cannon. The first decade of Mizoguchi as a filmmaker is overlooked. If you love cinema do yourself a favour and see this film.