Late Spring was a very touching and profound film for me and a great example of a movie which tells its story more visually than with its narrative. This is something I appreciated very much as I do think Japanese films can sometimes have the tendency to spell things out a little too blatantly. It tells a story of marriage, not just between people, but between cultures, reflecting the rapid Westernization which Japan was experiencing during the period that this film was made. The way people sit, their furniture and the clothes they wear are all very important in showing where every character stands in this marriage between the old and the coming new during each scene. Good examples of this, which show the change taking place, are the contrast between the very first scene and the very last scene, as well as the two separate scenes which take place at the same bar. I really enjoy a film like this, for which you have to use a bit of thought to figure out what it's trying to get across, yet doesn't drive you completely crazy like for example 2001: A Space Odyssey.
99 Reviews
Powerful and Penetrating
ccamp8925 April 2016
Warning: Spoilers
After having seen and loving Tokyo Story, a film which is widely considered to be not only master Japanese filmmaker Yasujiro Ozu's best film, but also one of the greatest films ever made, I was very eager to see more. Many consider Late Spring another of his absolute best works, and I can happily say that it most definitely met my very high expectations. As with Tokyo Story, this a deep, masterfully-executed and penetrating film examining family life in Japan and the societal and generational pressures which shape it.
As with Tokyo Story, we enter this tale of father, Shukichi Somiya, and daughter, Noriko Somiya, in the middle. 27-year-old Noriko lives together with her father and they appear to be very close. Naturally, questions begin to arise in the mind of the viewer: where is Noriko's mother and why hasn't she ever married? Ozu does a fantastic job of coaxing these questions out in the film's early stages and gives us hints at what has transpired, but never spoon- feeds us by explicitly explaining the backstory. We learn that Noriko had been seriously ill at one point during a period of war and hardship, but has since recovered. Her mother is a mystery for much of the film, but it slowly becomes clear that she has died and that Shukichi is a widower. With this context, the film examines the father-daughter relationship between Noriko and Shukichi and the pressures on them both to have Noriko finally marry and "leave the nest", so to speak.
The strength of this film (and Tokyo Story alike) is how subtly and effectively it tells this story. The screenplay and pacing of the film are phenomenal in slowly and carefully peeling back the layers of the family dynamic. Throughout the film we question the actions and underlying motivations of each of the characters. By the end, the full vision snaps into focus and we are left with a melancholy ending that really sneaks up and packs quite an emotional punch.
Let's begin with Noriko. For the length of the movie she is adamantly against marriage, especially re-marriage. As the details of the backstory filter in, her reasoning begins to become clear. Noriko lost her mother which has obviously affected her very much. As a result, she is very close with her father and wary of leaving him behind. Her mother's death obviously must have been very hard for her father as well, and she references the fact that he needs her to take care of him. She feels that she must be there for him because she fears he may be lonely if she leaves and won't be able to cope as a widower. She is also understandably protective of her father – she is afraid to lose him like she did her mother. Thus, she can't bear the thought of him ever remarrying which, in her mind, could potentially jeopardize their relationship. As the film progresses though, pressures on Noriko to get married come from all sides – her aunt, father, and best friend (and ironically, divorcée) all urging her that she must take this long overdue and necessary step. To her, the relationship she has with her father is more than enough and brings her contentment. However, she is made to feel like she is being selfish in staying home with him, especially when it is suggested that he wishes to remarry. Thus, she eventually gives into these pressures and marries at the end of the film, but is clearly devastated and unhappy with her choice.
Shukichi can be analyzed in the same way. He seems to be very happy with his daughter home and with the lives they are leading together. It isn't until his sister, Masa, makes the observation that Noriko has gone far too long without marrying, that he begins to question things. He too begins to pressure Noriko that she must marry, and begins to insinuate that he wishes to remarry as well and that she need not worry about taking care of him. Many conversations seem to have taken place between Shukichi and Masa off-screen, as at the end of the movie it is revealed that Shukichi's plans for remarriage were fabricated by both he and Masa in order to influence Noriko in her decision. Shukuchi feigns happiness at Noriko's wedding (as does Noriko quite poorly), but at the end of the film we see him return home to his empty house in a devastating scene where his true distress becomes apparent.
In this moment, the movie strikes a powerful note as we realize neither Noriko nor Shukichi wanted for this marriage to happen and neither are happy with the outcome. They were both made to feel selfish by others around them – Shukichi for keeping Noriko home so long with him and Noriko for keeping her father from remarrying. In reality, neither of these two things are true, but the characters are made to believe them through the pressures of their family and friends. Now, they find themselves in places that neither of them wanted or needed, but that society has deemed "correct" for them.
It's a poignant and thoughtful tale which is marvelously achieved by the strength of spectacular direction and acting. Setsuko Hara is absolutely radiant and Noriko. She shines in every single scene and has such an effortless quality to her acting that makes her every move feel completely natural. Chishû Ryû as Shukichi is equally brilliant as a caring father who is conflicted between keeping his daughter by his side and shooing her out the door to a more socially acceptable life. And everything of course is tied together by Ozu's absolutely masterful direction which makes for a film that is deep, thought-provoking, and emotionally resonant.
As with Tokyo Story, we enter this tale of father, Shukichi Somiya, and daughter, Noriko Somiya, in the middle. 27-year-old Noriko lives together with her father and they appear to be very close. Naturally, questions begin to arise in the mind of the viewer: where is Noriko's mother and why hasn't she ever married? Ozu does a fantastic job of coaxing these questions out in the film's early stages and gives us hints at what has transpired, but never spoon- feeds us by explicitly explaining the backstory. We learn that Noriko had been seriously ill at one point during a period of war and hardship, but has since recovered. Her mother is a mystery for much of the film, but it slowly becomes clear that she has died and that Shukichi is a widower. With this context, the film examines the father-daughter relationship between Noriko and Shukichi and the pressures on them both to have Noriko finally marry and "leave the nest", so to speak.
The strength of this film (and Tokyo Story alike) is how subtly and effectively it tells this story. The screenplay and pacing of the film are phenomenal in slowly and carefully peeling back the layers of the family dynamic. Throughout the film we question the actions and underlying motivations of each of the characters. By the end, the full vision snaps into focus and we are left with a melancholy ending that really sneaks up and packs quite an emotional punch.
Let's begin with Noriko. For the length of the movie she is adamantly against marriage, especially re-marriage. As the details of the backstory filter in, her reasoning begins to become clear. Noriko lost her mother which has obviously affected her very much. As a result, she is very close with her father and wary of leaving him behind. Her mother's death obviously must have been very hard for her father as well, and she references the fact that he needs her to take care of him. She feels that she must be there for him because she fears he may be lonely if she leaves and won't be able to cope as a widower. She is also understandably protective of her father – she is afraid to lose him like she did her mother. Thus, she can't bear the thought of him ever remarrying which, in her mind, could potentially jeopardize their relationship. As the film progresses though, pressures on Noriko to get married come from all sides – her aunt, father, and best friend (and ironically, divorcée) all urging her that she must take this long overdue and necessary step. To her, the relationship she has with her father is more than enough and brings her contentment. However, she is made to feel like she is being selfish in staying home with him, especially when it is suggested that he wishes to remarry. Thus, she eventually gives into these pressures and marries at the end of the film, but is clearly devastated and unhappy with her choice.
Shukichi can be analyzed in the same way. He seems to be very happy with his daughter home and with the lives they are leading together. It isn't until his sister, Masa, makes the observation that Noriko has gone far too long without marrying, that he begins to question things. He too begins to pressure Noriko that she must marry, and begins to insinuate that he wishes to remarry as well and that she need not worry about taking care of him. Many conversations seem to have taken place between Shukichi and Masa off-screen, as at the end of the movie it is revealed that Shukichi's plans for remarriage were fabricated by both he and Masa in order to influence Noriko in her decision. Shukuchi feigns happiness at Noriko's wedding (as does Noriko quite poorly), but at the end of the film we see him return home to his empty house in a devastating scene where his true distress becomes apparent.
In this moment, the movie strikes a powerful note as we realize neither Noriko nor Shukichi wanted for this marriage to happen and neither are happy with the outcome. They were both made to feel selfish by others around them – Shukichi for keeping Noriko home so long with him and Noriko for keeping her father from remarrying. In reality, neither of these two things are true, but the characters are made to believe them through the pressures of their family and friends. Now, they find themselves in places that neither of them wanted or needed, but that society has deemed "correct" for them.
It's a poignant and thoughtful tale which is marvelously achieved by the strength of spectacular direction and acting. Setsuko Hara is absolutely radiant and Noriko. She shines in every single scene and has such an effortless quality to her acting that makes her every move feel completely natural. Chishû Ryû as Shukichi is equally brilliant as a caring father who is conflicted between keeping his daughter by his side and shooing her out the door to a more socially acceptable life. And everything of course is tied together by Ozu's absolutely masterful direction which makes for a film that is deep, thought-provoking, and emotionally resonant.
Marvelously Crafted
kurosawakira27 November 2013
A heartwarming, amazing, impeccable film.
I still remember the shock I felt when I saw this. Such a visually radical, contemplative film full of so much emotion that it's bursting at the seams. The same atmospheric quietude that there's in all of his late films, contemplative but so telling and never silent, much like the performances, particularly that of Hara Setsuko. Then there's the humor: there are some of the most hilarious things in this film that I know of, including Chaplin, Keaton, Lloyd and the Marx brothers.
The story appears simple, of course. That's the Ozu way — a simple skeleton that he uses to build on, visually, above all. The first shot at the beginning of the film, perhaps the third or fourth of the whole film, when we enter the house for the first time, is such a powerful transitory shot spatially that it gives me goosebumps: first a few introductory shots outdoors, the train station and so on, and then suddenly we enter the confined space of the house as if we were lying on our belly on the ground, looking at a room from the far end of the hallway. And then Noriko (Hara) enters.
The movie is full of such magical moments. The most famous scene of the film, that at the Noh theatre, is one, them leaving Kyoto for the last time is another, the final scene of the film being the logical emotional climax. It's marvelous, really: it's not over the top as if it tried either to go for realism or mechanically manipulate our emotions. On the contrary, I believe Ozu succeeds emotionally because his films open quietly and slowly. He doesn't push us into accepting anything, and he doesn't push his characters into doing anything, either. Marvelously crafted as if everything just appeared in front of our eyes without any rehearsal. It's a sign of a great filmmaker to let us into the film so deeply. The images stay.
I still remember the shock I felt when I saw this. Such a visually radical, contemplative film full of so much emotion that it's bursting at the seams. The same atmospheric quietude that there's in all of his late films, contemplative but so telling and never silent, much like the performances, particularly that of Hara Setsuko. Then there's the humor: there are some of the most hilarious things in this film that I know of, including Chaplin, Keaton, Lloyd and the Marx brothers.
The story appears simple, of course. That's the Ozu way — a simple skeleton that he uses to build on, visually, above all. The first shot at the beginning of the film, perhaps the third or fourth of the whole film, when we enter the house for the first time, is such a powerful transitory shot spatially that it gives me goosebumps: first a few introductory shots outdoors, the train station and so on, and then suddenly we enter the confined space of the house as if we were lying on our belly on the ground, looking at a room from the far end of the hallway. And then Noriko (Hara) enters.
The movie is full of such magical moments. The most famous scene of the film, that at the Noh theatre, is one, them leaving Kyoto for the last time is another, the final scene of the film being the logical emotional climax. It's marvelous, really: it's not over the top as if it tried either to go for realism or mechanically manipulate our emotions. On the contrary, I believe Ozu succeeds emotionally because his films open quietly and slowly. He doesn't push us into accepting anything, and he doesn't push his characters into doing anything, either. Marvelously crafted as if everything just appeared in front of our eyes without any rehearsal. It's a sign of a great filmmaker to let us into the film so deeply. The images stay.
The inevitable sadness of life
looneyfarm1 June 2005
Warning: Spoilers
The first time I read about Ozu, I immediately became obsessed to see his films. Based on what I heard, I knew I would love them. The first one I saw was Tokyo Story, pet of film historians, which disappointed me (although I've later learned to love it like any other Ozu). After that came End of Summer and Late Spring, which both floored me with both emotion *and* intellectual delight. Even after seeing it I can't stop thinking about Late Spring, and now I'm ready to herald it as one of the greatest films I've ever seen.
Late Spring perfectly encapsulates Ozu's one and only theme: the inevitable sadness of life caused by change. It's a theme that never goes away. However, hardly no one else than the Japanese were able to tell you about change in the 1940's. Mind you, Ozu made his greatest films during a period when Japan became under the Western influence: Coca Cola and baseball became commonplace, industrialism and capitalism accelerated rapidly, and the concept of a traditional Japanese family and society became to fall apart. Considering the value of traditional Japanese culture, this change shouldn't be underestimated. Unlike Wim Wenders in his Ozu documentary Tokyo-ga, Ozu's point of view in this matter isn't preachy, however. What makes his films so fantastic in the end game is his sophisticated yet simple-minded philosophy of life: change and sadness are both essential and inevitable in life, and we have to accept it.
Not that Late Spring isn't amazing when forgetting its context. Ozu's relentlessly formalist visual style his apparent here, and both Chishu Ryu and Setsuko Hara deliver what are staggering performances. The film is brilliantly lyrical, especially the ending, which I consider one of the saddest and most touching movie endings aside Robert Bresson's Au hasard Balthasar: the father (Chishu Ryu) returns to home from his daughter's wedding, sits down to peel an apple, but soon understands his loneliness, and how inevitable it is. From here Ozu cuts to a simple shot of waves hitting shore, without trying to underline or prove anything. The End. This is what movies are all about.
Late Spring perfectly encapsulates Ozu's one and only theme: the inevitable sadness of life caused by change. It's a theme that never goes away. However, hardly no one else than the Japanese were able to tell you about change in the 1940's. Mind you, Ozu made his greatest films during a period when Japan became under the Western influence: Coca Cola and baseball became commonplace, industrialism and capitalism accelerated rapidly, and the concept of a traditional Japanese family and society became to fall apart. Considering the value of traditional Japanese culture, this change shouldn't be underestimated. Unlike Wim Wenders in his Ozu documentary Tokyo-ga, Ozu's point of view in this matter isn't preachy, however. What makes his films so fantastic in the end game is his sophisticated yet simple-minded philosophy of life: change and sadness are both essential and inevitable in life, and we have to accept it.
Not that Late Spring isn't amazing when forgetting its context. Ozu's relentlessly formalist visual style his apparent here, and both Chishu Ryu and Setsuko Hara deliver what are staggering performances. The film is brilliantly lyrical, especially the ending, which I consider one of the saddest and most touching movie endings aside Robert Bresson's Au hasard Balthasar: the father (Chishu Ryu) returns to home from his daughter's wedding, sits down to peel an apple, but soon understands his loneliness, and how inevitable it is. From here Ozu cuts to a simple shot of waves hitting shore, without trying to underline or prove anything. The End. This is what movies are all about.
A Master of understated elegance
futures-110 March 2006
"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.
Hara's acting
queenninibean18 April 2004
This is my favorite Ozu film. I like to think that it is an homage to Italian Neorealism. But I'm mostly writing in defense against those who don't like Setsuko Hara's acting. First of all, whenever we western audience viewers critique someone's acting, the main argument is that it's not realistic.
Well, I would like to say that Hara did a very realistic portrayal of her character. The women of 1949 Japan had her mannerisms that we will probably find "annoying".
This is a difficult film for those who are not used to "Eastern" style of films. Especially ones from the 1940s. As long as we watch with an open mind, the theme of the film is as universal as it can get. Who knows? In 50 years, someone will make fun of Naomi Watts' acting in "21 Grams" deeming it unrealistic.
Well, I would like to say that Hara did a very realistic portrayal of her character. The women of 1949 Japan had her mannerisms that we will probably find "annoying".
This is a difficult film for those who are not used to "Eastern" style of films. Especially ones from the 1940s. As long as we watch with an open mind, the theme of the film is as universal as it can get. Who knows? In 50 years, someone will make fun of Naomi Watts' acting in "21 Grams" deeming it unrealistic.
wonderful family drama in post-war Japan
dromasca23 January 2009
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.
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.
Setsuko Hara's remarkable performance highlights a powerful story of the role of women in post-war Japan
Rigor6 June 1999
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.
Setsuko Hara is perfect as Noriko
kirinoriko112821 December 2003
I've watched this film many times and love it very much. Ozu made Hara perfectly beautiful in this film. Noriko devoted her father and didn't want to marry because of him. He would be lonely if she married. Father and daughter lived happily together, but when she saw an elegant widow at Noh theather, she had jealousy. Hara Setsuko's acting was perfect as Noriko who was in love with her own father. No other actress could act like that. She was only Noriko. So director Ozu didn't change her role name Noriko for Setsuko Hara. Noriko in Banshun(Late Spring), Noriko in Bakushu(Early Summer),Noriko in Tokyo Monogatari(Tokyo Story) and I am Noriko as Setuko Hara's No.1 fan in Japan.
The Way It Should Be.
directorscut16 November 2007
LATE SPRING is another insightful look at 20th century Japanese life by master film-maker Yasujiro Ozu. A really perfect film. A great script that centres around a wonderful father/daughter dynamic as it probes into generational gaps, tradition, marriage and life during the reconstruction of post-war Japan. Beautiful acting by Chishu Ryu and Setsuko Hara bring to life screenwriter Kôgo Noda's realistically written characters. As always Ozu threats both his audience and characters with the respect they deserve. The image of Setsuko Hara in her wedding clothes is certainly one of cinema's most beautiful and touching moments. A genuine masterpiece!
Good And Long (And Slow).
net_orders19 July 2016
Warning: Spoilers
Viewed on DVD. Restoration = six (6) stars. This movie can be an acquired taste, but the viewer must be extremely patient during the acquisition process! Overly long due to interior/exterior visual padding and foot-dragging direction, it nonetheless exhibits: some fine acting from many contemporaneously well-known actors and actresses; a well constructed script with many red herrings, twists, turns, and moments of great dialog (plus a phantom major character); plenty of location shots (including the Kiyomizu-Dera Temple and the stone garden at Ryoan-Ji in Kyoto which pretty much look the same today); good sound; and clearly-enunciated line readings. Subtitles are right sized. Except for an occasional pan of sea waves or fields, cinematography is spot-on static. All action occurs within the frame (like viewing a stage play). Even for close-ups on bikes! However, camera placements are imaginative and lighting is well done. On occasion, the director films the backs of speaking actors when the viewer would expect expressive frontal shots. This "back acting" is interesting, but a bit disconcerting (especially when a back-acting shot is immediately followed by a duplicate front-acting one). Music lacks imagination in composition and film placement. It is monotonous (there is essentially only one Leif motif played over and over) and often inserted into the sound track in an amateurish manner. The serene, apparently economically-secure, middle-class society depicted here did not yet exist, and seems to have been offered up by the director as a proper modern and attainable objective (which was reached by Japan in an incredibly short time thereafter!). Semi-restoration leaves behind wear lines, frame jitters (especially during the opening credits), and age-related deterioration during dark scenes. WILLIAM FLANIGAN, PhD.
Perfect depiction of postwar Japanese family life
lqualls-dchin18 May 2003
"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.
On the bittersweet sadness of inevitable change and separation
gbill-748771 June 2020
"I just want to be with you, like this."
A film that was made with excellent craftsmanship and certainly highly polished, but too tranquil, too gentle for my taste to truly love, even though it is communicating one of life's most moving emotions, that of bittersweet sadness over inevitable change and separation.
Japan in 1949 was occupied, and there are numerous post-war references in clothing, advertisements, and kids playing baseball, all of which reflect change and westernization. A man is said to look like Gary Cooper, there's a reference to a scene from a William Hart film, and even the book the father packs for a train ride has an English cover, Thus Spake Zarathustra by Nietzsche (interesting choice). Among young women who appear to be traditional or at least nice people, there is discussion of divorce and pregnancy outside of marriage, reflecting shifting values. We also see traditional things, such as the etiquette of serving food and sake, a tea ceremony, an extended Noh performance, and a Zen rock garden. These elements seem to be put side by side to say that Japan is gradually changing, just as Hara's character must change, even though she doesn't realize it. I really liked this parallel, but the degree of the daughter's filial devotion didn't resonate with me, as it seemed to border a little on traditionalist fantasy.
Ozu puts a lot of care into shot composition, and I adored those of trees blowing gently in the wind, the train lumbering its way into the city, and the very pretty Setsuko Hara bicycling out to the shore with a friend in what was perhaps my favorite scene. Where he falls short for me is in his scenes with dialogue, where I think he takes this feeling of harmony and precision too far. We see close shots on the actors each in turn, both with smiles plastered to their faces, talking gently back and forth. It's too harmonious, almost like an episode of the 1950's American TV Show 'Leave it to Beaver,' and doesn't feel authentic. To be fair though, Hara has some nice moments of angst, such as when her aunt suggests that she should get married and her father should find a second wife, and the film's final shot is touching.
I guess I needed more of that, but know it's just a matter of personal taste - in literature I respect but struggle to love authors who write elegantly but without passion or a sense of the darker aspects of our souls, and I think it's the same here. I compare the feeling of post-war Japan here to some of Ozu's contemporaries, and am just drawn more to others, that's all.
A film that was made with excellent craftsmanship and certainly highly polished, but too tranquil, too gentle for my taste to truly love, even though it is communicating one of life's most moving emotions, that of bittersweet sadness over inevitable change and separation.
Japan in 1949 was occupied, and there are numerous post-war references in clothing, advertisements, and kids playing baseball, all of which reflect change and westernization. A man is said to look like Gary Cooper, there's a reference to a scene from a William Hart film, and even the book the father packs for a train ride has an English cover, Thus Spake Zarathustra by Nietzsche (interesting choice). Among young women who appear to be traditional or at least nice people, there is discussion of divorce and pregnancy outside of marriage, reflecting shifting values. We also see traditional things, such as the etiquette of serving food and sake, a tea ceremony, an extended Noh performance, and a Zen rock garden. These elements seem to be put side by side to say that Japan is gradually changing, just as Hara's character must change, even though she doesn't realize it. I really liked this parallel, but the degree of the daughter's filial devotion didn't resonate with me, as it seemed to border a little on traditionalist fantasy.
Ozu puts a lot of care into shot composition, and I adored those of trees blowing gently in the wind, the train lumbering its way into the city, and the very pretty Setsuko Hara bicycling out to the shore with a friend in what was perhaps my favorite scene. Where he falls short for me is in his scenes with dialogue, where I think he takes this feeling of harmony and precision too far. We see close shots on the actors each in turn, both with smiles plastered to their faces, talking gently back and forth. It's too harmonious, almost like an episode of the 1950's American TV Show 'Leave it to Beaver,' and doesn't feel authentic. To be fair though, Hara has some nice moments of angst, such as when her aunt suggests that she should get married and her father should find a second wife, and the film's final shot is touching.
I guess I needed more of that, but know it's just a matter of personal taste - in literature I respect but struggle to love authors who write elegantly but without passion or a sense of the darker aspects of our souls, and I think it's the same here. I compare the feeling of post-war Japan here to some of Ozu's contemporaries, and am just drawn more to others, that's all.
All that is interesting about this film could be told in 10 minutes
bruno-loff30 October 2013
Warning: Spoilers
I found the film really bad, and in vengeance against those who hail it as a masterpiece, I thought I would write a long review explaining why it actually sucks. No matter how poorly I accomplish this task, I expect that reading this review will still be more interesting and entertaining than watching the film! Indeed, "boring" is the most apt adjective to describe this trite work of cinema.
On the positive side, the film portrays a historically interesting social context, postwar japan, a time when the old clashes with the new, and the influence of the US is felt throughout.
However, it lacks not only enough density of interesting information, but also depth.
With regards to the story:
The main plot tells us of a 27-year-old girl and how she becomes mildly sad because of the marriage her caretakers arrange for her. You will see the occasional coca-cola sign and baseball reference, signaling postwar USA presence, and some circumstantial evidence that times-are-changing in Japan (e.g. her uncle is divorced, her girlfriend works as a secretary for a living). And there will also be the occasional scene showing us how change comes slowly (such as a traditional Japanese theater, or the main plot theme). The two provide a nice old-vs-new theme to the whole movie, which might be really nice if it was well executed.
Unfortunately, the events are presented in a sparse, disconnected whole. Most characters, particularly female characters, fluctuate between shallow and histrionic. Several of the characters (such as her cousin, or the professor's assistant) are disposable, and serve little purpose other than to fill the movie with distractions (I wouldn't write this if only the scenes in which these characters appear were significant, or even just beautiful, but they are not). It is not that the story is bad --- I think that the same story could possibly make a great movie --- it is simply that it is badly told.
With regards to the shooting: There are some beautiful scenes. These are mostly indoor scenes, but also the theater scene and one or two outdoor scenes. But it is hard to make nature look pretty in black and white, and the cinematographer was no Yusov. However, the various dull, poorly chosen, poorly filmed outdoor scenes go on forever.
The acting is not worth mentioning. The actors were not given difficult roles, but they were not up to playing even those. Occasionally I got the feeling that the actor was reciting his lines (esp. the father), or that the actor was overplaying them (esp. the girlfriend).
Overall it makes for an extremely dull piece of cinema. Save yourself the time.
On the positive side, the film portrays a historically interesting social context, postwar japan, a time when the old clashes with the new, and the influence of the US is felt throughout.
However, it lacks not only enough density of interesting information, but also depth.
With regards to the story:
The main plot tells us of a 27-year-old girl and how she becomes mildly sad because of the marriage her caretakers arrange for her. You will see the occasional coca-cola sign and baseball reference, signaling postwar USA presence, and some circumstantial evidence that times-are-changing in Japan (e.g. her uncle is divorced, her girlfriend works as a secretary for a living). And there will also be the occasional scene showing us how change comes slowly (such as a traditional Japanese theater, or the main plot theme). The two provide a nice old-vs-new theme to the whole movie, which might be really nice if it was well executed.
Unfortunately, the events are presented in a sparse, disconnected whole. Most characters, particularly female characters, fluctuate between shallow and histrionic. Several of the characters (such as her cousin, or the professor's assistant) are disposable, and serve little purpose other than to fill the movie with distractions (I wouldn't write this if only the scenes in which these characters appear were significant, or even just beautiful, but they are not). It is not that the story is bad --- I think that the same story could possibly make a great movie --- it is simply that it is badly told.
With regards to the shooting: There are some beautiful scenes. These are mostly indoor scenes, but also the theater scene and one or two outdoor scenes. But it is hard to make nature look pretty in black and white, and the cinematographer was no Yusov. However, the various dull, poorly chosen, poorly filmed outdoor scenes go on forever.
The acting is not worth mentioning. The actors were not given difficult roles, but they were not up to playing even those. Occasionally I got the feeling that the actor was reciting his lines (esp. the father), or that the actor was overplaying them (esp. the girlfriend).
Overall it makes for an extremely dull piece of cinema. Save yourself the time.
A magnificent masterpiece by Ozu
Antoine Tremblay10 August 2006
Yasujiro Ozu has been hailed as one of the great masters of cinema for years. I have to agree with those film scholars and critics because Late Spring is a prime example of good cinema. Everything in this film flows like a gentle river. I was fascinated and completely thrilled by every second of this great work of art. Setsuko Hara and Chishu Ryu are just wonderful. You just have to forget about classical Hollywood montage and editing, you will not find any of those rules here. The master create all new ones and I guarantee that if you try one, you will want to see more of his films. This was the third work by Ozu that I had the chance to watch and I can't hardly wait to see another one.
Sincerely, I urge anybody that love cinema to see this one, quite simply one of the greatest films I have seen. 10/10
Sincerely, I urge anybody that love cinema to see this one, quite simply one of the greatest films I have seen. 10/10
An Elegy for Unhappiness
ilpohirvonen28 February 2013
As in the films of Bresson, to Ozu the purity of style always coincides with an uncompromising moral perspective. He never lets his characters nor his audience get away from a profound dilemma with an easy answer. Thus, Ozu's films are always veritably life-enhancing, exhaustive, in the word's most definitive meaning. In "Late Spring" Ozu's mature, extremely laconic style is at its most developed before his subsequent films in which he went to define it even further. The movement of the camera is precisely considered; it is often positioned approximately one meter from the ground, and often left to explore the space long after the action has taken place.
The lingering narrative of "Late Spring" fits very well for Ozu's understated poetry which encapsulates his whole vision of humanity and the world. The impressionistic picking of details in the aesthetics triggers associations to various thematic contrasts, such as infinity and insularity, but in addition to such stylization the film bears a striking resemblance to Italian neo-realism with its documentary-like observations and dark visual tones.
The quiet emptiness of the beginning shots -- the essence of Ozu's poetics -- and their atmosphere remain as an echo in all of the scenes of "Late Spring" where there are no superfluous images. In his unique style Ozu has set the rhythmic pace for the junctions of the scenes with brief shots of nature that seem to express the transience of life; the importance of moments; and their absolute beauty.
Once again Ozu deals with the theme of collision of generations as people must ponder responsibility and freedom with regards to tradition and family. Not surprisingly, the film has no black and white solutions to offer. Ozu's honest pessimism, his Chekhovian wisdom of life; and Buddhist acceptance merge together in the beauty of his aesthetics. At its heart, "Late Spring" is one of his most profound meditations on happiness, its pursuit, limits, nature and impossibility.
When it comes to the story or narrative of "Late Spring," it is vital to discuss inner drama. For this is truly a film about characters who cannot express themselves, their true desires and wishes. It is to them whom Ozu gives his silent and tender interpretation, understanding their deepest experience of existence. In this sense, "Late Spring" can be seen as a universal tragedy of the difficulty of expressing oneself; of revealing one's innermost emotions and dreams.
The lingering narrative of "Late Spring" fits very well for Ozu's understated poetry which encapsulates his whole vision of humanity and the world. The impressionistic picking of details in the aesthetics triggers associations to various thematic contrasts, such as infinity and insularity, but in addition to such stylization the film bears a striking resemblance to Italian neo-realism with its documentary-like observations and dark visual tones.
The quiet emptiness of the beginning shots -- the essence of Ozu's poetics -- and their atmosphere remain as an echo in all of the scenes of "Late Spring" where there are no superfluous images. In his unique style Ozu has set the rhythmic pace for the junctions of the scenes with brief shots of nature that seem to express the transience of life; the importance of moments; and their absolute beauty.
Once again Ozu deals with the theme of collision of generations as people must ponder responsibility and freedom with regards to tradition and family. Not surprisingly, the film has no black and white solutions to offer. Ozu's honest pessimism, his Chekhovian wisdom of life; and Buddhist acceptance merge together in the beauty of his aesthetics. At its heart, "Late Spring" is one of his most profound meditations on happiness, its pursuit, limits, nature and impossibility.
When it comes to the story or narrative of "Late Spring," it is vital to discuss inner drama. For this is truly a film about characters who cannot express themselves, their true desires and wishes. It is to them whom Ozu gives his silent and tender interpretation, understanding their deepest experience of existence. In this sense, "Late Spring" can be seen as a universal tragedy of the difficulty of expressing oneself; of revealing one's innermost emotions and dreams.
A true work of art
planktonrules1 October 2006
Warning: Spoilers
This is one of the most beautiful and perfect Japanese films I have ever seen. While I have seen and reviewed several other of director Ozu's films, this one stands head and shoulders above the rest. Most of this is NOT because of the plot, as the plot itself is very, very simple. Instead, the masterful way in which the film is constructed is highly reminiscent of a Japanese painting--one that is neither hurried nor unreal in any way. The story is a touching and lovely look at the relationship between a 56 year-old father and his unmarried daughter and it takes a very slow and gorgeous journey. Many of the best scenes are the quiet moments at home between the two leads or their friends--as the relationships seem so real and natural. In most films, super-human and extraordinary people are featured, whereas in this one, the basic humanity and beauty of average decent people is the focus. And while this description may sound awfully dull, it certainly isn't--especially since so many of the moments in the film are incredibly touching and honest.
The main plot line involves the happy man and his daughter living contented lives with each other in post-war Japan. While the father is a widow and he had no other children, he appears to be a genuinely happy and kind man. The daughter is also very content with their life and sees no need to marry. However, outside forces (friends as well as a meddling aunt) push them--trying to get the girl married despite her objections. And after a short time, the father, too, begins to feel this is for the best--even though it will mean losing the most precious person in his life. This struggle is just amazing to watch and is dealt with so honestly and beautifully that I strongly recommend you see this film. An amazing film you just need to see for yourself--just don't be put off by its slow pace--it's all part of the overall artistry of Ozu.
The main plot line involves the happy man and his daughter living contented lives with each other in post-war Japan. While the father is a widow and he had no other children, he appears to be a genuinely happy and kind man. The daughter is also very content with their life and sees no need to marry. However, outside forces (friends as well as a meddling aunt) push them--trying to get the girl married despite her objections. And after a short time, the father, too, begins to feel this is for the best--even though it will mean losing the most precious person in his life. This struggle is just amazing to watch and is dealt with so honestly and beautifully that I strongly recommend you see this film. An amazing film you just need to see for yourself--just don't be put off by its slow pace--it's all part of the overall artistry of Ozu.
Father-Daughter Bond Scrutinized with Ozu's Masterful Resonance
EUyeshima13 December 2005
Warning: Spoilers
Through an eBay auction, I was so lucky to find a DVD of Yasujiro Ozu's "Banshun (Late Spring)" since it's not available yet in the US, where I imagine it will be released some day through the Criterion Collection. This is how new viewers like myself have discovered the other two classic films of his Noriko trilogy, 1951's "Bakushû (Early Summer)" and 1953's "Tokyo Monogatari (Tokyo Story)". This 1949 film is perhaps the most Japanese of the three as it concerns the rather unearthly devotion a daughter named Noriko has for her widowed professor father, Shukichi. While an American film would have touched upon the incest angle, under Ozu's immaculate direction, there is nothing unseemly about the relationship. She thoroughly enjoys taking care of him, but her father knows she must get married.
A meddlesome aunt named Masa aggressively sets up an arranged marriage with a supposed Gary Cooper-look-alike (though we never see him). Noriko resists all efforts until Shukichi and Masa convince her that he is getting married to a woman she eyes with remorse at a Noh play. Noriko reluctantly agrees to marry but never really accepts the reasoning that she needs a husband. In a beautifully economic scene only Ozu could convey, Shukichi peels an apple after the wedding and sadly bows his head to cry. Even though the later "Tokyo Story" deals with death, this is the most emotionally naked of the trilogy, as it is palpable how Noriko cannot truly succumb to the supposed joy of marriage.
It's no wonder Setsuko Hara became a huge star in Japan with this film. She plays Noriko with a wellspring of emotion from scene to scene - headstrong, petulant, flirtatious (the sliced pickle comment is pretty saucy), blindly devoted, masochistic, and guardedly happy. Ozu gives her the full glamour treatment as well, having the camera linger in a medium shot on her beautiful, often smiling face, for instance, during the fanciful bike ride on the beach and the lengthy Noh play scene. Even though Hara plays three different characters in the trilogy, all named Noriko, it's fascinating to see how she seamlessly manages the evolution from high-spirited daughter here to emancipated working woman choosing to marry on her terms in "Early Summer" to resigned widow lost in her solitude in "Tokyo Story". She is memorable.
Familiar Ozu regular Chishu Ryu gives his most sympathetic and accessible performance as Shukichi with a touch of appropriate absent-mindedness. The rapport between the two feels genuine, and it amazes me how they can be so convincing as father-daughter in one film and brother-sister in the next. Another Ozu mainstay, Haruko Sugimura, excels at willful, often irritating characters, and her unrelenting portrayal of Masa exemplifies her unique talent. It's intriguing that Hara and Sugimura have an almost duplicate scene in both "Late Spring" and "Early Summer" where the older woman cajoles Noriko to marry - the actors play the scene with sweetness and surprise in the latter film, whereas turmoil and regret fill a similar turning point in this one.
There is some wonderful acting on the sidelines - the comically cherubic Masao Mishima as the "unclean" Mr. Onodera (I love the scene where he keeps pointing in the wrong direction to get his bearings in Kamakura); Jun Usami as Shukichi's assistant Hattori, a seemingly perfect suitor for Noriko who turns out to be unavailable but not overly so; and Yumeji Tsukioka as Noriko's worldly divorced best friend Aya. Note Aya's completely Western home (ironically filmed at Ozu's typical tatami-sitting eye level), one of many interesting American touches in the film, including the anachronistic use of "Here Comes the Bride" to introduce the wedding scene. The Kyoto sequence is particularly affecting with a fine use of real locations (Kiyomizu Temple, Imperial Palace) and the moving scene when Noriko and Shukichi come to their mutual understanding of the future.
This is said to be Ozu's personal favorite, and I can understand why as the director tells a simple story with relatable truths and honest intensity, even though the relationship is rather unusual by Western traditions. A holistic view of the Noriko trilogy shows "Early Summer" to be more comical and "Tokyo Story" more universally poignant, but "Late Spring" is a gem all on its own. This DVD gratefully has English subtitles, though the translation can be a bit sketchy at times. The print transfer is not pristine (some scenes are overly dark) but not as bad as I feared. There are no extras, as I expect there will be once Criterion does decide to release this classic.
A meddlesome aunt named Masa aggressively sets up an arranged marriage with a supposed Gary Cooper-look-alike (though we never see him). Noriko resists all efforts until Shukichi and Masa convince her that he is getting married to a woman she eyes with remorse at a Noh play. Noriko reluctantly agrees to marry but never really accepts the reasoning that she needs a husband. In a beautifully economic scene only Ozu could convey, Shukichi peels an apple after the wedding and sadly bows his head to cry. Even though the later "Tokyo Story" deals with death, this is the most emotionally naked of the trilogy, as it is palpable how Noriko cannot truly succumb to the supposed joy of marriage.
It's no wonder Setsuko Hara became a huge star in Japan with this film. She plays Noriko with a wellspring of emotion from scene to scene - headstrong, petulant, flirtatious (the sliced pickle comment is pretty saucy), blindly devoted, masochistic, and guardedly happy. Ozu gives her the full glamour treatment as well, having the camera linger in a medium shot on her beautiful, often smiling face, for instance, during the fanciful bike ride on the beach and the lengthy Noh play scene. Even though Hara plays three different characters in the trilogy, all named Noriko, it's fascinating to see how she seamlessly manages the evolution from high-spirited daughter here to emancipated working woman choosing to marry on her terms in "Early Summer" to resigned widow lost in her solitude in "Tokyo Story". She is memorable.
Familiar Ozu regular Chishu Ryu gives his most sympathetic and accessible performance as Shukichi with a touch of appropriate absent-mindedness. The rapport between the two feels genuine, and it amazes me how they can be so convincing as father-daughter in one film and brother-sister in the next. Another Ozu mainstay, Haruko Sugimura, excels at willful, often irritating characters, and her unrelenting portrayal of Masa exemplifies her unique talent. It's intriguing that Hara and Sugimura have an almost duplicate scene in both "Late Spring" and "Early Summer" where the older woman cajoles Noriko to marry - the actors play the scene with sweetness and surprise in the latter film, whereas turmoil and regret fill a similar turning point in this one.
There is some wonderful acting on the sidelines - the comically cherubic Masao Mishima as the "unclean" Mr. Onodera (I love the scene where he keeps pointing in the wrong direction to get his bearings in Kamakura); Jun Usami as Shukichi's assistant Hattori, a seemingly perfect suitor for Noriko who turns out to be unavailable but not overly so; and Yumeji Tsukioka as Noriko's worldly divorced best friend Aya. Note Aya's completely Western home (ironically filmed at Ozu's typical tatami-sitting eye level), one of many interesting American touches in the film, including the anachronistic use of "Here Comes the Bride" to introduce the wedding scene. The Kyoto sequence is particularly affecting with a fine use of real locations (Kiyomizu Temple, Imperial Palace) and the moving scene when Noriko and Shukichi come to their mutual understanding of the future.
This is said to be Ozu's personal favorite, and I can understand why as the director tells a simple story with relatable truths and honest intensity, even though the relationship is rather unusual by Western traditions. A holistic view of the Noriko trilogy shows "Early Summer" to be more comical and "Tokyo Story" more universally poignant, but "Late Spring" is a gem all on its own. This DVD gratefully has English subtitles, though the translation can be a bit sketchy at times. The print transfer is not pristine (some scenes are overly dark) but not as bad as I feared. There are no extras, as I expect there will be once Criterion does decide to release this classic.
Be ready for sad thoughts
yb777-118 November 2007
This is an excellent Japanese drama by one of its greatest directors.The story is quite simple but directed masterfully and leaves you thinking for a long time after the watching.I just want to comment on one aspect which seems to me very important for better understanding of the movie and which hasn't been tackled upon yet by other viewers.I don't think that the father's only concern about his daughter is her just getting married.It is especially seen in the scene where he is talking about the issue with a woman in the bar at the end of the film.There is some feeling of selfish future plans on both sides while they smile and talk to each other.I think that Noriko felt it,too, but couldn't go against her father's will.This is something that is not stated clearly,but rather hinted by certain phrases,looks,smiles and emotions. Highest recommendations.A true gem!
Closure of a relationship between a widower and his daughter.
tasgal10 March 2003
In most of Yasujiro Ozu's movies, and in all of the ones seen by me, the people are, more or less, middle class. In "Late Spring," that description holds just barely, as the characters belong to the extreme academic elite. (I did a postdoc in Japan, but didn't move in circles anywhere near that rarefied.)
"Late Spring" tells the story of a widowed father and his single daughter. The father, a professor of considerable status, is very much an iconoclast, with a familiarity with foreign cultures that is deep and broad. The daughter, at ease among her father's colleagues, casually eats bread and bakes cakes herself. In many circumstances, these behaviors surely precipitate hails of abuse faster than you can say Masao Miyamoto. Yet the father has not hardened into a simplistic contrarian or provocateur, but shows a broad-minded appreciation of the variety of things wanted from life, and a far-sighted sense of the effort needed to attain them.
Although the daughter is growing a bit old for marriage, she and her father have a comfortable and interesting relationship, and they could easily go on for some time as they are. Marriage would be an unpleasant disruption, as the father is otherwise alone, and the daughter, not in love with anyone, cannot expect to find a match as sophisticated and companionable. But there is no future for her in remaining single.
Like, and in contrast to, Spielberg's "A.I.," with its negative illustration that love entails a concern for the other's future, "Late Spring" has a strong positive illustration of this -- the father's love for the daughter is especially palpable. The movie follows father and daughter feeling out things during the course of work, at home, and among friends. While the plot is in one sense pedestrian, in another sense, this is a critical point in their lives, and it is extremely dramatic, not despite but because of the absence of false melodrama. And it is a pleasure to spend two hours observing these thoughtful and fully human characters.
By most descriptions, the father merely pretends to toy with the idea of remarrying so his daughter will let go, and in fact plans to live out his days alone. But I don't see the father as having completely closed off the possibility. A marriage is arranged for the daughter, one that strikes me as realistic and nice. What does come poignantly to an end with the daughter's wedding is the life shared with her father.
"Late Spring" tells the story of a widowed father and his single daughter. The father, a professor of considerable status, is very much an iconoclast, with a familiarity with foreign cultures that is deep and broad. The daughter, at ease among her father's colleagues, casually eats bread and bakes cakes herself. In many circumstances, these behaviors surely precipitate hails of abuse faster than you can say Masao Miyamoto. Yet the father has not hardened into a simplistic contrarian or provocateur, but shows a broad-minded appreciation of the variety of things wanted from life, and a far-sighted sense of the effort needed to attain them.
Although the daughter is growing a bit old for marriage, she and her father have a comfortable and interesting relationship, and they could easily go on for some time as they are. Marriage would be an unpleasant disruption, as the father is otherwise alone, and the daughter, not in love with anyone, cannot expect to find a match as sophisticated and companionable. But there is no future for her in remaining single.
Like, and in contrast to, Spielberg's "A.I.," with its negative illustration that love entails a concern for the other's future, "Late Spring" has a strong positive illustration of this -- the father's love for the daughter is especially palpable. The movie follows father and daughter feeling out things during the course of work, at home, and among friends. While the plot is in one sense pedestrian, in another sense, this is a critical point in their lives, and it is extremely dramatic, not despite but because of the absence of false melodrama. And it is a pleasure to spend two hours observing these thoughtful and fully human characters.
By most descriptions, the father merely pretends to toy with the idea of remarrying so his daughter will let go, and in fact plans to live out his days alone. But I don't see the father as having completely closed off the possibility. A marriage is arranged for the daughter, one that strikes me as realistic and nice. What does come poignantly to an end with the daughter's wedding is the life shared with her father.
Pain and commitment
cruizca18 November 2020
Warning: Spoilers
Belated rhyme brings us to postwar Japan, defeated, busy and full of Coca-Cola signs. The country is going through a very strong identity crisis. Given this, Ozu presents us with a duality already famous in his cinema: modern and booming cities, such as Tokyo, compared to more traditional places, such as Kyoto itself. Ozu uses all possible cultural and stylistic conventions to tell us the dramatic story of separation between Noriko (Setsuko Hara) and her father, Shukichi (Chisu Ryu). How does a father act when his daughter becomes part of another family? Marriage is to blame.
The fact that it is also a marriage of convenience makes the separation more painful and dramatic. Ozu is very comfortable in this context, which he brings us closer to in a very natural way. It is a very simple plot, but executed and exploited in a masterful way through novel narrative strategies.
We could say that the first one is to hide important information, so that when it is revealed, the effect is greater (neither Shukichi, nor we know that she is going to get married until she tells it laughing); another could be the narrative transitions and their "pillow shots" (Onodera and Noriko discuss going to an art exhibition; the transition shows us the poster of this, and then we are shown in a bar after the visit) and the ellipsis, in which the true story lies (Noriko rides a bicycle with Hattori in what seems like a romantic scene; however, he has a girlfriend, and the jealousy that she feels encourages him to marry later). In addition, the film also has symbolic reading: Hatori (Jun Usami) goes alone to the theater, as a premonition; the title, Late Spring, refers to the play that Noriko watches with her father, a play that reflects on the couple and sexual attraction: a turning point for Noriko.
"One of the most perfect, most complete, and most successful studies of character ever achieved in Japanese cinema."
But, without a doubt, what has caught my attention the most has been Ozu's complex approach to the characters. Noriko is a young woman who depends economically and emotionally on her father, which is why she is very reluctant to marry; She plays the role of "wife" or even "mother" of her father. However, you are smart enough to catch the signs and make the final decision to get married.
On the other hand, Shukichi, he's not your typical iron-fisted professor; it is the "non-patriarchy patriarchy." He is a character who knows his role in the world and sticks to it emotionally; For this reason, at the end of the film, her heartbroken loneliness becomes the protagonist.
I have never seen a more emotional ending in my life than Late Spring. Noriko smiles without being happy, while her father is forced to accept what is happening. The aunt fulfills her task satisfied and takes Noriko from the room. Shukichi arrives at her house, now empty, and defeated, leaves her coat. He sits down to eat an apple, which he cannot peel. He surrenders and we listen to the sea. So true that it gets under your skin; two people heartbroken for doing the right thing for each other. Nobody believes what just happened.
The fact that it is also a marriage of convenience makes the separation more painful and dramatic. Ozu is very comfortable in this context, which he brings us closer to in a very natural way. It is a very simple plot, but executed and exploited in a masterful way through novel narrative strategies.
We could say that the first one is to hide important information, so that when it is revealed, the effect is greater (neither Shukichi, nor we know that she is going to get married until she tells it laughing); another could be the narrative transitions and their "pillow shots" (Onodera and Noriko discuss going to an art exhibition; the transition shows us the poster of this, and then we are shown in a bar after the visit) and the ellipsis, in which the true story lies (Noriko rides a bicycle with Hattori in what seems like a romantic scene; however, he has a girlfriend, and the jealousy that she feels encourages him to marry later). In addition, the film also has symbolic reading: Hatori (Jun Usami) goes alone to the theater, as a premonition; the title, Late Spring, refers to the play that Noriko watches with her father, a play that reflects on the couple and sexual attraction: a turning point for Noriko.
"One of the most perfect, most complete, and most successful studies of character ever achieved in Japanese cinema."
But, without a doubt, what has caught my attention the most has been Ozu's complex approach to the characters. Noriko is a young woman who depends economically and emotionally on her father, which is why she is very reluctant to marry; She plays the role of "wife" or even "mother" of her father. However, you are smart enough to catch the signs and make the final decision to get married.
On the other hand, Shukichi, he's not your typical iron-fisted professor; it is the "non-patriarchy patriarchy." He is a character who knows his role in the world and sticks to it emotionally; For this reason, at the end of the film, her heartbroken loneliness becomes the protagonist.
I have never seen a more emotional ending in my life than Late Spring. Noriko smiles without being happy, while her father is forced to accept what is happening. The aunt fulfills her task satisfied and takes Noriko from the room. Shukichi arrives at her house, now empty, and defeated, leaves her coat. He sits down to eat an apple, which he cannot peel. He surrenders and we listen to the sea. So true that it gets under your skin; two people heartbroken for doing the right thing for each other. Nobody believes what just happened.
Great film
Cosmoeticadotcom14 September 2008
Warning: Spoilers
If one were to think of an equivalent to the film style of director Yasujiro Ozu it would have to be long novels suffused with detail, but never superfluous detail. Books such as Herman Melville's Moby-Dick- with its descriptions of the whaling industry and vessels, John Steinbeck's The Grapes Of Wrath- with its detailed rendering of the lives of migrant workers, and especially Betty Smith's A Tree Grows In Brooklyn- with its child-like view of a world that overwhelms fresh senses, come to mind, even though the film checks in at a mid-length range of an hour and forty-eight minutes. Ozu's cinema is utterly shorn of melodrama, for all that occurs within its frames advances some aspect of narrative, character development, or social commentary. Yet, some of the most affecting scenes in the whole of his 1949 film, Late Spring (Banshun), are realistic shots of toenail clippings or apple peels, designed to allow the viewer to feel they are intruding in on the reality of the characters. Then there are seemingly throwaway details that also lend authenticity, such as when a meter reader from the electric company comes and requires a stool to read the meter. It has nothing to do with the tale nor symbolism, but immediately 'realizes' the situation for most viewers, especially when a more important character has to get the stool for the ephemeral character.
This film not only was a change in technique and tenor for Ozu, from more socially blunt works, but marked the beginning of the final phase of Ozu's long career, where his focus became almost exclusively the Japanese family unit in the post-war transition years, and his camera movement started to become more and more static with every film released. The film was penned by Ozu and longtime collaborator Kôgo Noda, from a novel called Father And Daughter, by Kazuo Hirotsu. The very naturalistic style of the screenplay and camera work lends an air of realism to Ozu's style that has often been compared to Italian Neo-Realism of the same era, although Ozu's work from this era was never as overtly political as that of the Italian filmmakers. The film follows the life of an aging father, a professor, Shukichi Somiya (Chishu Ryu), and his twenty-seven year old daughter, Noriko (Setsuko Hara), who still lives at home. Worried over her ending up alone, and prodded on by Noriko's aunt Masa Taguchi (Haruko Sugimura)- sister of Shukichi or his wife (it's never delineated), he tries to push his daughter out of the nest and into marital bliss. We never learn what happened to the wife and mother of the household, but we can guess she was killed in the war. We do learn that Noriko was in a labor camp and was very ill and skinny, but has now gotten healthy and plump, according to one of Shukichi's Academic colleagues, Jo Onodera (Masao Mishima), whose remarriage Noriko deems distasteful and filthy. Onodera is a jovial man, and merely one of many who seems to obsess on Noriko's marital status . What makes Late Spring a great film is that, like great classic novels, it is never preachy nor condescending, but involving. Think of the great novels I compared it to, and then think of the crap put out in recent years by big name authors such as Joyce Carol Oates, T.C. Boyle, or Toni Morrison, and then think of this film and preachy PC films like Brokeback Mountain or Crash, and the comparative difference is manifest. Late Spring can be political when a character takes up an empty seat with his belongings or when Hara forces a smile. One need not have a character stick his tongue down another male character's throat, nor his fingers between a female characters' leg to denote the political stance of the film and filmmaker.
Then there are the terrific technical cinematographic aspects of the film- by Yuharu Atsuta, such as Ozu's patented low angle shots; eyeline mismatches; limited camera movement- such as when Noriko and Hattori go biking, yet it seems as if the world moves by them, not the other way around; the lack of interstitial fades and dissolves; as well as narrative devices, such as ellipses- as when we see Noriko's devastation at her father's supposed remarriage, and then transition to her seemingly positive and happy reaction to meeting 'Gary Cooper;' and transition shots of unidentified locations to link themes and elided time intervals. In many ways, the camera of Ozu frames life similarly to that of Danish director Carl Theodor Dreyer, or the great Dutch painting masters, where space, the tension built by spare movement, and the relative positioning of characters is all important.
Ozu has tritely been labeled the most Japanese of all directors by lazy critics, as opposed to his two great contemporaries- Kenji Mizoguchi and the far more famous Akira Kurosawa, both of whose reputations were made with historical dramas, but Ozu is actually the most modern of all the classic directors from Japan, and probably the most Western, if not in approach then in attitude. Late Spring shows this to be true, and considering that the film was a distinct reinvention of the man's art, its success is all the more noteworthy. It's akin to a minor dime store novelist from the late 19th Century all of a sudden morphing into Mark Twain. Were most midlife crises handled as ably- nay, greatly- as this the work of such an artist as Yasujiro Ozu would not be needed to illumine the problem. It almost makes one wish for the human race to be continued to be plagued with ills, for only then will the relevance of such artistic rendering still be appreciated, right along with the greatest of novels and novelists.
And the great shroud of the sea rolled on as it rolled five thousand years ago .
This film not only was a change in technique and tenor for Ozu, from more socially blunt works, but marked the beginning of the final phase of Ozu's long career, where his focus became almost exclusively the Japanese family unit in the post-war transition years, and his camera movement started to become more and more static with every film released. The film was penned by Ozu and longtime collaborator Kôgo Noda, from a novel called Father And Daughter, by Kazuo Hirotsu. The very naturalistic style of the screenplay and camera work lends an air of realism to Ozu's style that has often been compared to Italian Neo-Realism of the same era, although Ozu's work from this era was never as overtly political as that of the Italian filmmakers. The film follows the life of an aging father, a professor, Shukichi Somiya (Chishu Ryu), and his twenty-seven year old daughter, Noriko (Setsuko Hara), who still lives at home. Worried over her ending up alone, and prodded on by Noriko's aunt Masa Taguchi (Haruko Sugimura)- sister of Shukichi or his wife (it's never delineated), he tries to push his daughter out of the nest and into marital bliss. We never learn what happened to the wife and mother of the household, but we can guess she was killed in the war. We do learn that Noriko was in a labor camp and was very ill and skinny, but has now gotten healthy and plump, according to one of Shukichi's Academic colleagues, Jo Onodera (Masao Mishima), whose remarriage Noriko deems distasteful and filthy. Onodera is a jovial man, and merely one of many who seems to obsess on Noriko's marital status . What makes Late Spring a great film is that, like great classic novels, it is never preachy nor condescending, but involving. Think of the great novels I compared it to, and then think of the crap put out in recent years by big name authors such as Joyce Carol Oates, T.C. Boyle, or Toni Morrison, and then think of this film and preachy PC films like Brokeback Mountain or Crash, and the comparative difference is manifest. Late Spring can be political when a character takes up an empty seat with his belongings or when Hara forces a smile. One need not have a character stick his tongue down another male character's throat, nor his fingers between a female characters' leg to denote the political stance of the film and filmmaker.
Then there are the terrific technical cinematographic aspects of the film- by Yuharu Atsuta, such as Ozu's patented low angle shots; eyeline mismatches; limited camera movement- such as when Noriko and Hattori go biking, yet it seems as if the world moves by them, not the other way around; the lack of interstitial fades and dissolves; as well as narrative devices, such as ellipses- as when we see Noriko's devastation at her father's supposed remarriage, and then transition to her seemingly positive and happy reaction to meeting 'Gary Cooper;' and transition shots of unidentified locations to link themes and elided time intervals. In many ways, the camera of Ozu frames life similarly to that of Danish director Carl Theodor Dreyer, or the great Dutch painting masters, where space, the tension built by spare movement, and the relative positioning of characters is all important.
Ozu has tritely been labeled the most Japanese of all directors by lazy critics, as opposed to his two great contemporaries- Kenji Mizoguchi and the far more famous Akira Kurosawa, both of whose reputations were made with historical dramas, but Ozu is actually the most modern of all the classic directors from Japan, and probably the most Western, if not in approach then in attitude. Late Spring shows this to be true, and considering that the film was a distinct reinvention of the man's art, its success is all the more noteworthy. It's akin to a minor dime store novelist from the late 19th Century all of a sudden morphing into Mark Twain. Were most midlife crises handled as ably- nay, greatly- as this the work of such an artist as Yasujiro Ozu would not be needed to illumine the problem. It almost makes one wish for the human race to be continued to be plagued with ills, for only then will the relevance of such artistic rendering still be appreciated, right along with the greatest of novels and novelists.
And the great shroud of the sea rolled on as it rolled five thousand years ago .
Unsatisfying but worthwhile
barkingechoacrosswaves8 June 2013
Warning: Spoilers
I am a fan of Ozu, and was anxious to expand my knowledge of his work by seeing this highly regarded film. Unfortunately, I was not especially impressed with "Late Spring." The pacing of the film is languid for the first hour or so -- I grew quite restless while Ozu painted an overextended portrait of domestic bliss in the household of the central characters -- a widowed father (Chishu Ryu) and his spinsterish yet bubbly daughter (Setsuko Hara). Things turn a bit more interesting as pressure is brought to bear on the daughter to marry at her advanced age of 27 -- this provokes the daughter to turn exceedingly moody and sullen, causing various complications to the marriage her father and aunt are trying to arrange. Since Setsuko Hara specializes in playing super upbeat yet submissive female characters, it was novel to see her in a rebellious and surly mode. However, Setsuko's rebellion doesn't last long and her mood turns back to positive once again rather too abruptly toward the end of the film.
Though I am used to watching Japanese films portraying social norms and customs that seem archaic or irrelevant to Western eyes, the cultural/social background of this film was particularly difficult for me to relate to. Meanwhile, the manic mood swings exhibited by Setsuko Hara's character felt artificial and jarring at the same time. Somehow it just didn't hold together for me.
If you are an avid fan of Ozu or of Japanese cinema then by all means see "Late Spring." However, if you want to see the best of Ozu I would recommend instead that you see the justly celebrated "Tokyo Story," the 1959 version of "Floating Weeds" and "I Was Born But..."
Though I am used to watching Japanese films portraying social norms and customs that seem archaic or irrelevant to Western eyes, the cultural/social background of this film was particularly difficult for me to relate to. Meanwhile, the manic mood swings exhibited by Setsuko Hara's character felt artificial and jarring at the same time. Somehow it just didn't hold together for me.
If you are an avid fan of Ozu or of Japanese cinema then by all means see "Late Spring." However, if you want to see the best of Ozu I would recommend instead that you see the justly celebrated "Tokyo Story," the 1959 version of "Floating Weeds" and "I Was Born But..."
Depicts the acceptance of the sadness of life
howard.schumann14 April 2003
The concept of mono no aware is said to define the essence of Japanese culture. The phrase means "a sensitivity to things", the ability to experience a direct connection with the world without the necessity of language. Yasujiro Ozu sums up this philosophy in Late Spring, a serene depiction of the acceptance of life's inevitabilities and the sadness that follows it. The film shows the pressure in Japanese families for children to be married as the "natural order" of things, regardless of their wishes. One wonders if Ozu, who never married, is sharing his own family experience with us.
In Late Spring, a widowed Professor, Somiya (Chishu Ryu), must face the inevitability of giving up his daughter, Noriko (Setsuko Hara) to marriage. Noriko, however, wants only to continue to live at home and care for her father and insists that marriage is not for her. Yet the social pressure to marry continues to build, coming not only from her father but also from Somiya's sister Masa (Haruko Sugimura) whom she calls "Auntie", and from a friend, the widower Onodera (Masao Mishima) who has recently remarried. Masa, unrelenting, presents Noriko with a prospect named Satake who reminds her of actor Gary Cooper, but she is still reluctant. To make it easier for Noriko to decide, Somiya tells her that he is planning to remarry and she will no longer need to take care of him. Noriko's agonizes over her decision and her once beaming face increasingly carries hints of resignation. At the end, the old man sits alone peeling a piece of fruit as the ocean waves signal the inexorable flow of timeless things.
In Late Spring, a widowed Professor, Somiya (Chishu Ryu), must face the inevitability of giving up his daughter, Noriko (Setsuko Hara) to marriage. Noriko, however, wants only to continue to live at home and care for her father and insists that marriage is not for her. Yet the social pressure to marry continues to build, coming not only from her father but also from Somiya's sister Masa (Haruko Sugimura) whom she calls "Auntie", and from a friend, the widower Onodera (Masao Mishima) who has recently remarried. Masa, unrelenting, presents Noriko with a prospect named Satake who reminds her of actor Gary Cooper, but she is still reluctant. To make it easier for Noriko to decide, Somiya tells her that he is planning to remarry and she will no longer need to take care of him. Noriko's agonizes over her decision and her once beaming face increasingly carries hints of resignation. At the end, the old man sits alone peeling a piece of fruit as the ocean waves signal the inexorable flow of timeless things.
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