Fin d'automne

If you have never seen a film by Yasujiro Ozu, you may have difficulty adjusting to his restrained and subtle handling of emotions; identifying Ozu as a director not known for action-packed narrative is massive understatement, as his films reflect a less hectic time and an ancient culture slowly coming to terms with change.

On the surface, this film is simply about the separation occurring as a daughter marries and a parent is left behind. With Ozu, however, carefully and consistently arranging composition, with gentle humor and a quiet observation of the human condition, there is much to be gained from reflection, from watching people realistically and patiently coming to terms with change. No one screams and throws dishes, no one bleeds copiously or falls out of a window, no one even runs across the street. My grandmother used to say "possess your soul in patience," and that said, a viewer may need to do just that with Late Autumn; the willing viewer will be amply rewarded with this amazing examination of calm resignation in the face of a life change

Of Ozu's trilogy on marriage Japanese style this one is my favorite. In fact many of my comments apply to the other two, Late Spring (1949) and Early Summer (1951). All three deal with the concept of marriage as seen in traditional Japanese society and even though to my western eyes it seems antiquated, Ozu manages to present it as a sensible, inherently logical way to pair two people. But what ultimately attracts me to his work is his presentation. The plot unfolds in a slow, languorous way. It's linear but with gaps in time which are fully explained so that we are not left guessing as to intervening events. What we see and hear is the important stuff. We, in essence, are eavesdropping on intimate family conversations, the kind of things discussed at every dinner table, things important to a family but more or less irrelevant to the outside world. Somehow Ozu makes that interesting. Naturally the actors play an important part and the presence of two of my favorite Japanese actors, Setsuko Hara and Chisu Ryu, in all three are a definite plus. So why is this one my favorite? Humor and lots of it. The first two are rather serious, drama-filled works where the characters exhibit much angst. Late Autumn on the other hand is light and airy, there's a bounce to it, and it's filled with a lot of sexual innuendo that is completely absent from the others. It's as if Ozu was saying to us that the post-WWII years was a time for Japan to buckle down to the serious work of rebuilding society. By 1960 the joy of living had returned to his country. It could afford the bumbling of three well-meaning and occasionally lecherous men whose efforts at match-making were only half successful.

In many ways a retread of his earlier masterpiece Late Spring, which dealt with the relationship between a widowed father and his marry-able daughter, Ozu returned to familiar territory as he often did late in his career for a look at the flip-side. Here, the mother is widowed and desires to see her daughter married and happy. Three friends determine to intervene, leaving a trail of misunderstandings and hurt feelings in their attempt to appease all involved.

While this is certainly a familiar story for Ozu to tell, he somehow manages to inject new life into it every time out. Through a beautiful color palette and his famous visual style, Ozu explores a world of postwar Japan that finally appears to be picking itself up fifteen years after World War II. Western dress and behavior continues to seep into Japanese culture and Ozu seems to be picking up on the rapid evolution of change within his country throughout these late career works. His lack of interest in plot and storytelling leaves the viewer more time to focus on the atmosphere, the context in which the story is set. The result is a very pensive and serene feeling as one realizes that no matter what time or place, humans will always desire certain things. Companionship, love and happiness will never go out of style, even for widowed women.

Ozu's common themes of ageing, filial ties and modernisation are as present here as in many other of his films. But in this film, as well as the melancholy and gentleness we are accustomed to, there are large doses of comedy which makes this film far more accessible for the uninitiated.

The story centres around a widow (Setsuko Hara) and her daughter (Yoko Tsukasa). The daughter doesn't want to get married because she wants to care for her mother, whereas the mother wants her daughter to marry even though she realises she'll be left alone. So far everything is extremely familiar. Except that in this case the dead husband's friends get involved, trying to find suitors for both mother and daughter, thus creating comical situations, causing family tensions, and finally necessitating for the daughter's friend to step in and sort out the mess.

All in all highly recommended for anyone who wishes to try out this highly prestigious director, and a strong reminder for fans of why we love him so much.

Even though the comparison is obviously intentional, Yasujiro Ozu's 1960 film is really a variation on his classic 1949 father-daughter drama, "Late Spring". He goes further with this parallel by having the wondrous Setsuko Hara, who played the daughter in the original film, play the mother in this one, even though only eleven years have elapsed. Gone is the alternately feisty, flirtatious and petulant manner that marked her earlier performance as Noriko, and in its place is that remarkable stillness and quiet warmth in her portrayal of Akiko that marked the best of Hara's later performances. She was barely forty during filming, yet she carries the gravitas of her role with uncommon ease. What remains consistent between her two performances is the unearthly devotion which ties the characters intractably to the world in which they have grown accustomed.

Ozu wrote the quietly perceptive script with longtime collaborator Kogo Noda, and the filmmaker's trademark touches - the narrative ellipses, the lack of melodrama, the low camera angles - are all here in their emotionally resonant glory. This time, the character of Akiko has such an easy sisterly bond with her daughter Ayako that neither has an interest in dating or marriage. While Akiko's situation is more or less accepted by society, Ayako's single status is a point of consternation, especially for three friends of Akiko's late husband, all of whom express feelings of unrequited love for the unavailable Akiko. They are jointly intent on finding Ayako a suitable husband and find one in Goto, a young, well-mannered bachelor with a suitable career. Akiko, however, demurs at the possibility of matrimony which leads the story through its inevitable paces.

Yôko Tsukasa is pretty and affecting as Ayako, though honestly no match for the younger Hara in the earlier film. More of that uninhibited spirit is present in Mariko Okada, who plays Ayako's friend and colleague Yuriko. She has a terrifically abrasive and amusing confrontation with the trio of embarrassed matchmakers, and the result comes across as a bit of an imbalance to the viewer now since Yuriko's Westernized independence is more compelling than Ayako's more innate diffidence. Adding more to the comedic aspects of the story, Shin Saburi, Nabuo Nakamura and Ryuji Kita play the matchmaking trio almost like a Shakespearean comedy troupe. Interestingly, Ozu uses a decidedly Italianate-sounding score to underscore the action, a nice unpredictable touch. This well-preserved film is not as essential as "Late Spring", but it is a worthy addition to Ozu's filmography.