Herbes flottantes

... aren't we all, their lives steadily unravelling as their audience shrinks, their relationships stretched with secrets, revenge and deception coming to the fore. A poetic observation of life that turns the seemingly ordinary into something quite the opposite and, as relevant today as it has always been, as it encourages you to reflect on who you really are or have been, where you've come from and, more importantly, where you might be going.

This close remake of Yashijuro Ozu's silent 'The Story of Floating Weeds' from 1934 which was made under the aegis of Shochiku studios is a far mellower work which reflects not only its director's maturity but also the cheerier tone preferred by Daiei. He also has the benefit here of utilising Daiei's senior lighting cameraman Kazuo Miyagawa whose colour cinematography is ravishing as well as two of Daiei's leading performers Ganjiro Nakayama and Machiko Kyo as master and mistress Komajuro and Sumiko. The sunnier treatment is heightened by the wistful, nostalgic score by Fakandu Saito which would not be out of place in a Jacques Tati film.

Taking its title from the Japanese name for itinerant actors, this has all the hallmarks of Ozu's oeuvre, in terms of serenity, humanism and a profound understanding of the human heart. As usual the camera is static and placed a little below the actors whilst the compositions are nothing less than painterly. For this viewer at any rate one would have wished a few scenes, notably the confrontation between Komajuro, Oyoshi, Kyoshi and Kayo, to have been a little more animated but that is simply not Ozu's way. The argument between Komajuro and Sumiko whilst sheltering from the rain is masterfully handled as is their final touching scene in the railway station. The splendid images that open and close the film linger long in the memory.

By all accounts Ozu never aimed for an international audience and indeed his films were not really appreciated in the West until the decade after his death. His work is very much one of variations on a theme and as avowed Ozu devoteee Roger Ebert has observed: "To look at any of his films is to glimpse the whole."

While seemingly rather simple, "Floating Weeds" is quite a satisfying film that combines Ozu's usual thoughtful tone with characters and atmosphere convincing enough that they almost immediately make you feel as if you know both the principals and their surroundings. Much of the running time is spent on apparently routine activities, but each scene serves a useful purpose in developing the themes, settings, and characters.

The story ties together the fortunes of a traveling troupe of kabuki actors with, in the forefront, a crucial point in the relationships of Komajuro, their leader. The setting in a seaside village offers a suitably languid atmosphere that sets off both plot lines very appropriately. One of the things that is so interesting about Ozu's films is that the settings are so definitively Japanese, with plenty of well-conceived details, and yet the way that he approaches the story and characters makes his movies seem universal, confined neither by time nor place.

The characters here are an interesting assortment of theatrical types and villagers. Many of them are relatively one-dimensional, but they are portrayed with skill and sensitivity, making even the simplest of them seem worth knowing. Especially good is Machiko Kyô as Sumiko, who is also the most interesting of the characters. Ganjiro Nakamura is good too as Komajuro, but Kyô usually gets the best of their scenes together.

Two particularly good scenes between the two are the tense dispute in the rain and the encounter in the train station. In the former scene, Ozu's setup for the scene is a perfect complement for the characters' dialogue and actions. In the latter, the characters convey deep feelings with the most economical and satisfying of means.

This is the kind of movie for which subsequent viewings might even be more enjoyable than the first, in the way that coming back to a familiar place can give you an odd sense of peace or security. And it leaves you with the feeling that it would be nice to come back again sometime.

I wrote this after I saw my first Ozu's film, "Tokyo Story" about a year ago: "As with every great work, the film has its own unique perfection in style, rhythm, details, and artist's vision - but Tokyo Story is very universal in its appeal, simply put, it is for every parent, every son or daughter - for everyone. It was made 50 years ago in Japan, about people who lived far away, but it is also about all of us, our families, our problems, our guilt and our search for love and meaning. Ozu's film does not require one to be a movie buff or to try to solve complex symbolism to appreciate and love it. It brings smiles because it is a comedy (for at least the first 2/3) and sadness with a high drama of the last 1/3 of the film."

I feel absolutely the same about "Floating Weeds". The film is quiet and deceptively simple but its simplicity reminded me the words of Michelangelo Buanorotti. When asked how he created the perfect statues from the shapeless marble lumps, he answered, "It is very simple, you just cut off all unnecessary pieces".

Ozu's films are perfect - they touch us with rare warmth, soft enveloping tenderness and power of human emotions not necessarily with striking visual or sound effects. "Floating Weeds" is a remake of earlier silent black and white Ozu's film "The Story of Floating Weeds". The story is simple: an aging, traveling actor who is the manager of a kabuki troupe returns to a remote village where he secretly meets his former lover and her 19 year old illegitimate son, to whom he is known as "uncle." The older man finds happiness in communicating with his son who turned to be a fine young man. His current mistress, filled with jealousy because of his attachment to his secret family, hires a young beautiful girl, the member of a troupe to seduce a boy. Something in this story attracted Ozu so much that he remade the film twenty five years later.

"Floating Weeds" is a beautiful color film and it is the first color Ozu's film for me. The colors are bright and fresh, tender and kind - they match the director's style perfectly. The delightful music by Kojun Saito reminds me of Nina Rota music in Fellini's films - nostalgic, innocent and rhythmic.

"Floating Weeds" (Japanese, 1959): The first few things I notice about films by writer/director Ozu are: the incredibly consistent, artful composition used in his shots; his patience with the "ordinary"; and his intentional avoidance of "action" and blatant "drama". His films are meditative exercises on the daily truths we humans must face, which contain their own realistic challenges. Like Bergman and Allen, he too often uses the same actors, non-exotic locations, and stays within a philosophical area of interest that is obviously not market driven…which earns them dedicated followers...even after death. Ozu's films are pure elegance.