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Alone again, naturally
An Autumn Afternoon was director Ozu Yasujiro's final film. The main character and Ozu were in the late autumn of their lives, far closer to winter than summer. Somehow, this film so reminiscent of Late Spring, with a father facing solitude as his children were leaving home was a fitting ending for the great writer and director.
Ryu Chishu, an Ozu regular, once again played a father deliberating marrying his youngest daughter off. His character, Hirayama Shuhei wasn't in any hurry to find a suitor for her until he and his buddies held a reunion for an old teacher. The teacher's middle-aged daughter still lived at home and worked in their noodle shop taking care of her father. Instead of feeling sorry for the lonely, sad woman who was well beyond the age of marriage, they pitied the old man. These were the older men who mercilessly teased the one man in their group who had married a woman his daughter's age, worrying she would be the death of him. Most of the women in the offices were young because by the age of 24 they were supposed to marry and quit their jobs. As Shuhei makes the decision that Michiko should marry soon, his other children are only worried for him, not whether Michiko would be happy and well cared for.
Ryu did a superb job as always encompassing the character designed for him by Ozu. This time his daughter was played by Iwashita Shima who was actually age appropriate for this role. Young and vivacious, Michiko was in no hurry to marry but also was a dutiful daughter and followed her father's lead which Iwashita portrayed perfectly. It seems like there is always a strange casting in Ozu movies when it comes to age. Tono Eijiro(the old teacher) was a year younger than his movie daughter Sugimura Haruko!
The three older men felt like they could have been the school boys from Ozu's earlier films. All grown up, but still mischievous and pulling pranks on each other. I did find it oddly disturbing how often they made innuendos about the one man's very young wife. Though everyone was worried about Shuhei being alone, in reality he spent long hours at the office and then seemed to go out drinking with his friends every night. Michiko stopped making dinner for him and her brother because they never called to say if they were not going to be eating at home after she had gone to the trouble to cook for them. Though it was Shuhei we were guided to feel sorry for, it was the women who earned my pity. Michiko had little say about her life which was mostly laid out for her by men. The old teacher's daughter had been used by her father as a surrogate housewife to care for him after his wife died. Michiko's sister-in-law had to deal with a selfish husband who spent money recklessly. Shuhei was proud of his daughter for handling a rejection so well, then found out she had cried. Thankfully, Ozu had allowed her to be human and experience sorrow even for a moment.
This is the first Ozu film I've seen where WWII was mentioned so much. Shuhei had been the captain of a destroyer and met a crewman in a bar. The crewman lamented their loss, saying if they'd won those blonde haired, blue-eyed Americans would be play the samisen now instead of the young Japanese dancing to rockabilly. Shuhei blithely tells him then it's lucky they lost. Ozu rarely delved into the past with his characters. They lived and dealt with problems where they were---in the present.
Regardless of my misgivings for the lack of autonomy for the female characters, this was Ozu's world, not mine, and the old childless bachelor was feeling the sting of loneliness after the recent death of his elderly mother. Despite the characters in the film doing what they could to ameliorate their circumstances, there would always be suffering. Ozu never flinched from two difficult life lessons: Life is short and loneliness is hard. Shuhei bitterly said, "…sons are best…No point in having a daughter…" His friend understood the meaning beneath when he responded, "Boy or girl, it's all the same. They all go sooner or later." It's in the nature of children to grow up and leave the nest no matter how much love, attention, and money has been given to them…just as their parents did. One day Michiko may face solitude, maybe not in an Ozu film because the women all seem to die young, but parents all tend to fade from their children's lives. Old age is filled with empty, quiet rooms.
In the final scene, Shuhei sang from a military song and then said, "I'm all alone." The camera took one long loving look at Ozu's meticulously decorated set and the actor who had accompanied him for so long on their theatrical journey as Shuhei poured one last glass from Ozu's ubiquitous teapot. A fitting ending indeed.
4/26/23
Ryu Chishu, an Ozu regular, once again played a father deliberating marrying his youngest daughter off. His character, Hirayama Shuhei wasn't in any hurry to find a suitor for her until he and his buddies held a reunion for an old teacher. The teacher's middle-aged daughter still lived at home and worked in their noodle shop taking care of her father. Instead of feeling sorry for the lonely, sad woman who was well beyond the age of marriage, they pitied the old man. These were the older men who mercilessly teased the one man in their group who had married a woman his daughter's age, worrying she would be the death of him. Most of the women in the offices were young because by the age of 24 they were supposed to marry and quit their jobs. As Shuhei makes the decision that Michiko should marry soon, his other children are only worried for him, not whether Michiko would be happy and well cared for.
Ryu did a superb job as always encompassing the character designed for him by Ozu. This time his daughter was played by Iwashita Shima who was actually age appropriate for this role. Young and vivacious, Michiko was in no hurry to marry but also was a dutiful daughter and followed her father's lead which Iwashita portrayed perfectly. It seems like there is always a strange casting in Ozu movies when it comes to age. Tono Eijiro(the old teacher) was a year younger than his movie daughter Sugimura Haruko!
The three older men felt like they could have been the school boys from Ozu's earlier films. All grown up, but still mischievous and pulling pranks on each other. I did find it oddly disturbing how often they made innuendos about the one man's very young wife. Though everyone was worried about Shuhei being alone, in reality he spent long hours at the office and then seemed to go out drinking with his friends every night. Michiko stopped making dinner for him and her brother because they never called to say if they were not going to be eating at home after she had gone to the trouble to cook for them. Though it was Shuhei we were guided to feel sorry for, it was the women who earned my pity. Michiko had little say about her life which was mostly laid out for her by men. The old teacher's daughter had been used by her father as a surrogate housewife to care for him after his wife died. Michiko's sister-in-law had to deal with a selfish husband who spent money recklessly. Shuhei was proud of his daughter for handling a rejection so well, then found out she had cried. Thankfully, Ozu had allowed her to be human and experience sorrow even for a moment.
This is the first Ozu film I've seen where WWII was mentioned so much. Shuhei had been the captain of a destroyer and met a crewman in a bar. The crewman lamented their loss, saying if they'd won those blonde haired, blue-eyed Americans would be play the samisen now instead of the young Japanese dancing to rockabilly. Shuhei blithely tells him then it's lucky they lost. Ozu rarely delved into the past with his characters. They lived and dealt with problems where they were---in the present.
Regardless of my misgivings for the lack of autonomy for the female characters, this was Ozu's world, not mine, and the old childless bachelor was feeling the sting of loneliness after the recent death of his elderly mother. Despite the characters in the film doing what they could to ameliorate their circumstances, there would always be suffering. Ozu never flinched from two difficult life lessons: Life is short and loneliness is hard. Shuhei bitterly said, "…sons are best…No point in having a daughter…" His friend understood the meaning beneath when he responded, "Boy or girl, it's all the same. They all go sooner or later." It's in the nature of children to grow up and leave the nest no matter how much love, attention, and money has been given to them…just as their parents did. One day Michiko may face solitude, maybe not in an Ozu film because the women all seem to die young, but parents all tend to fade from their children's lives. Old age is filled with empty, quiet rooms.
In the final scene, Shuhei sang from a military song and then said, "I'm all alone." The camera took one long loving look at Ozu's meticulously decorated set and the actor who had accompanied him for so long on their theatrical journey as Shuhei poured one last glass from Ozu's ubiquitous teapot. A fitting ending indeed.
4/26/23
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