I would be remiss if I did not mention the invaluable resource that Chicago Sun-Times film critic Roger Ebert has been thus far on my filmic quest. Ebert’s insights and enlightening prose have been the most wonderful of companions on my journey. One of the areas in which his writings have been most valuable is the effort he puts toward introducing the great works of foreign directors to American audiences, particularly with their inclusion in his “Great Movies” series. At the conclusion of his introduction to the first collection of these essays to be published in book form, he writes that “[s]ooner or later every lover of film arrives at Ozu, and understands that the movies are not about moving, but about whether or not to move.”
The genius of Ozu, and one of the elements that Ebert argues make his films “great,” is that he is able to create emotionally and spiritually moving images without ever physically moving his camera. In 1962s An Autumn Afternoon, as in almost all of Ozu’s pictures, it is placed at a low wide angle, often seeming to wait for action to occur in front of it instead of seeking that action out. In a way, this conscious choice of camera patience reflects Ozu’s characters. The pace of life we observe from a distance in an Ozu film is not realistic – life not as it is, but as it should be. What other director would give us the time to reflect upon the beauty created by a spinning barber’s pole on a street cluttered by neon signs? That is not to say that the characters here live their lives passively or without a care. Like Ebert says, these are not films of action but of the decision to act. Characters in Ozu films reflect on the life-changing possible outcomes resulting from the actions they may, or may not take.
The central concern of An Autumn Afternoon is the decision to marry. A widowed father struggles with questions of matrimony as they concern his daughter, whom he fears may grow old caring for him and her childish older brother. Meanwhile his oldest son, who perhaps married too soon himself, tries to be of assistance by drumming up suitable candidates for the marriage from amongst his friends. The story may sound simple, and it is, but while Ozu tells small stories, he does not use small themes. These are characters we can understand at a basic level because they deal with real human issues. The primary protagonist is a man who works hard, drinks too much, kids with his friends, and worries over his daughter as she worries for him. Though he holds some status, he lives a simple life. The film tells us that during the war he was a captain in the Japanese navy, and though he seems to enjoy reminiscing, in a candid moment he says simply, “[p]erhaps it is best that we lost the war.” He is a man at peace with his station in life, and he now wants only what is best for all of his children.
Ozu tells stories about families. Many consider Tokyo Story (1953), another quiet family drama, to be his masterpiece. However, I prefer Floating Weeds (1959). Though that film certainly concerns the relationships between biological relatives, its true beauty comes from Ozu’s ability to create a family from the small troop of kabuki actors around which the film centers. Though these individuals may be cast aways from their own families, the film shows how they find harmony together even through turmoil. An Autumn Afternoon shows us how we sometimes make decisions not because they are easy, but because they are what we think is best for those we love.
Grade: 3 Hats Off
199 to go!
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