Fin d'automne

Well, it was bound to happen eventually: The more films I viewed from noted Japanese auteur Yasujiro Ozu, there was going to come a time when my well of interest ran dry. I have now seen ten of his films, and Ozu seems unique among filmmakers, even the most praised, by being essentially the anti-Billy Wilder. Where Wilder's mind was so brilliantly scattered that he did pictures in nearly every conceivable genre, and did them well, Ozu was always more interested in mining different stories out of the same cloth, hopping from patch to patch on a quilt of nuanced familial drama. Where Wilder branched out, Ozu dug his roots in deep. He had an exclusive stable of actors, comprising some of the most talented and, like their helmsman, subtly versatile actors in the business, including the transcendent Chishu Ryu and the great Sestuko Hara, appearing here as the mother to the always-adorable Yoko Tsukasa, essaying the role that Hara herself brought to life in Late Spring. Ryu has the remarkable ability to present to us a man of any age with very little in the way of physical alterations (in the span of five years, he played father, brother and grandfather to Hara and was utterly convincing in all). Hara has the exact opposite gift: That of an ageless wonder. Early on in Late Autumn, a comment is made that Hara and her daughter Tsukasa look more like sisters than mother-daughter, and it's absolutely true. In the eleven-year span from Spring to Autumn, Hara has swapped roles but kept the same face, and she brings her A-game yet again, looking more weary and fatigued than ever before.

But there's a problem. Where Ozu's style had always seemed evocative and direct, here is seems...stilted and awkward. The use of direct address in discussions seems disjointed and stiff. What felt emotionally confrontational in Late Spring comes off here as almost amateurish, merely content to blandly cut back and forth between one talking head and another. The fact that he's done that all his career perhaps says something about this film as an individual entity. Or perhaps it's just become all too familiar. When you're looking to derive a myriad of tales from the same few thematic points, there's always the danger of indifference; having the same actors play similar characters doing similar things in similar ways in movies with similar titles, it's a testament to his brilliance that he managed to make it more than one film, but here, it all just strikes of creative exhaustion: He's seemingly run out of stories to the point that he's now reworking the similar stories he's already done, as this is almost directly a remake of his 1949 masterpiece Late Spring, except mostly from the female perspective. While it appears to be a monumental shift for such a gradual director (I still remember first experiencing Tokyo Story and being so startled by its singular tracking shot that I was shaken to my core), actually far too little is new. Most of the motions and emotions we are presented with were all essentially inferred in Late Spring, and this seems if nothing else, an unnecessary diversion to a place we're already been.

Now this is not to say that the film is a complete dud. Everyone involved is so talented that they can't help but stumble into several moments of effective heartstrain, most notable the touching restraint of the final shot, but I just can't shake the feeling that with Late Autumn, instead of hopping to a new stitch on the quilt, he's stepping right back onto trampled-down, treaded ground. Where Late Spring presented this story and devastated me, going right to my heart and laying me out flat. To Late Autumn I'm a bit more...subdued. I never connected to the characters or the situation in any tangible or meaningful way, and my response to the film was less "Holy crap" and more "ho-hum".

{Grade: 6.5/10 (B-/C+) / #24 (of 34) of 1960}

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.

Yasujiro Ozu's 1960 semi-sequel to his Late Spring (from 1949). Casting the same actress from his earlier effort, Setsuko Hara, where she played a woman whose father's machinations to marry her off become a nuisance since all she wants is to stay by his side, here she plays a widow w/a willful daughter whose friends of her late husband feel she's ready for marriage. As they gather one evening to preside over memorial rites for Hara's hubby, the businessmen suddenly decide her daughter is ripe for matrimony but the moment she hears this (especially when one of the tycoon's ambushes her w/one of his underlings who she just brushes off), she in no terms tells Hara for them to mind their business. As things keep getting prickly between the combatants, one of the men suggests one of their own court Hara (since he's a widower) in order to force the daughter to make a decision which backfires badly as the daughter's friend/co-worker gets fed up & tells her in no uncertain terms to grow up & pick a mate (or don't!) even though her prior brush off w/the underling comes around on his own. Finally exploding at Hara for all the romantic shenanigans, her daughter decides to leave the nest which doesn't last long as the film comes to an end & things work out for the best. Even when the daughter devolves into a shouting match at Hara, Hara is implacable, keeping whatever turmoil & anguish under lock & key, letting her innate decency rule the day. Not being very Ozu literate (this may be my fourth feature I've seen of his), it's refreshing to see how decent & low key his traits are even when decent people get caught up in their own forthrightness & w/simple straight forward compositions (the dialogue sequences are edited like the gentlest of tennis matches usually w/the speaker addressing the camera head on), the narratives tend to be easygoing & calming.

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.

Apparently this is a semi-remake of one of Ozu's own films, which I haven't seen (Late Spring). It's also a little familiar to the most recent Ozu film I watched, 1962's An Autumn Afternoon. Besides having titles that share a word, each involves parents looking for partners for their daughter to marry. In An Autumn Afternoon, it's a father looking for someone for his daughter to marry, and in Late Autumn, it's a mother looking for someone to marry her daughter (with the help of three very entertaining male side characters, who sort of kick off the main plot without being the film's lead characters).

Yasujiro Ozu's films are slow and touching, but never dry or overly sentimental. Personally, I have to be in the right mood to get attached to them, but thankfully, tonight was the right mood. I found this very engaging throughout, and thought the characters were endearing, the visuals were very pleasant to look at, and the mix of drama and humour was pitch-perfect.

There is still the slow pacing that I was aware of here and there, but not too often, all things considered. Part of me felt like 130 minutes was a little long, but another part of me enjoyed spending over two hours with these characters and their important (but not too high stakes) life decisions. I even had to remind myself they were fictional, after I thought to myself right after the movie ended that I hoped a character would be okay in their life going forward... before pinching myself and realising that they're fictional, and there technically is no more life for them to live once the screen fades to black. I think that's the sign of good writing and acting right there.