I have a hard time to
understand why this film is labelled under “Berlinale Classics”.
In 1957 when Tokyo Boshoku had it´s premiere, almost no one
neither in Berlin nor elsewhere outside of Japan had even an idea
that Ozu existed at all. But than it is probably meaningless to think
about the quite dumb use of a strange Neo-English which dominates the
language of the Berlinale administration. But shall I complaint if
something like a rare masterpiece by Ozu will be screened?
Tokyo Boshoku is
Ozu´s last film in Black and White and the reason why he worked
after since 1958 only with colours is well answered by this bleak
film itself. The first thing which comes to my mind whenever I think
about this film is the theory about the death of the universe by
freezing in a very far distant future. The world of Ozu´s film
itself seems here under the threat of death by freezing. Unusually
for Ozu, Tokyo Boshoku is almost without any humour and
whenever something like a gag appears a laughter will soon get stuck
in the middle. Tokyo Boshoku is here a bit like Hitchcock´s
Vertigo, at the first sight a typical theme of it`s director
but at a closer look a very melancholic reflection.
It is winter ( a not so
popular season in a film from his postwar period). The cold is
omnipresent in the whole film. It is the perceptible cold but as well
an analogy to the frostiness of the relationships between the
characters. Whenever in most of Ozu´s films pubs, bars, or
restaurants are frequented it means fun, social life and laughter. In
Tokyo Boshoku it is only a place to get warm for a while –
it is nothing more than the last reflex of the instinct of self
preservation.
A fat elderly man drinks
tea. At first he looks like one of his funny supporting characters.
But a few seconds later we see on his face traces of a hopeless
loneliness. The world of Ozu we know and which we even recognize here
for moments seem slightly distorted.
To use another analogy
from the astronomy. The characters in this film seem moving away from
each other like the galaxies in our known universe. Each dialogue
seems to take an endless effort and if there is any film in which you
feel the silence, a cold and deadly silence than it is Tokyo
Boshoku. The background music, mostly happy bar music increases
this feeling even more. The balance of most postwar films by Ozu
between humour, poetic observation of every day life and melancholy
is broken here for the benefit of a breeding sadness which is hard
to define and hard to bear. Each of the characters is almost isolated
with their losses. The parents are divorced, the eldest daughter
thinks about leaving her drinking husband, the youngest daughter is
disturbed and confused. This constellation of a totally dysfunctional
family does not promise anything good.
To understand early
Japanese cinema but as well the old masters who worked in both of the
great zeniths in Japanese film history, it is important to know that
the cinema of this country has a lot to do with the Westernization of
Japan. Ozu himself belonged to artists and intellectuals who
experienced influences from America or Europe as liberating and
inspiring. His passion for American cinema is legendary. This
monstrous mixture of a former military dictatorship and the raising
of a new westernized capitalism is the society´s self created
monster. Even though Ozu´s civil courage during war and military
government is as well legendary and even though I do not follow the
interpretation of Chishu Ryu as Ozu´s Alter Ego, Chisu Ryu´s father
is is one of his most unusual father figures. It is one of Ozu´s
films which is as well a baseline study of Ozu´s generation. Ryu´s
father is part of Ozu´s generation responsible (if not personally
but as a generation) for both the war and the new economy and
alienation following western patterns and that makes Tokyo Boshoku
one of the most self reflecting films Ozu and probably the whole
Japanese cinema ever created. A small hint suggest that the father´s
marriage is destroyed by the consequences of the war. Beside so much
other things, the film is also a process of coming to terms with
one´s past.
I can´t say that I love
Tokyo Boshoku as much as Tokyo monogatari, Banshun
or especially Bakushu, but it is definitely one of his bravest
film and probably one of the bravest Japanese film ever made. It
might be often hard to bear in it´s drawing of desperate loneliness
and alienation.
A small subtle moment
reveals the dark and for Ozu unusual pessimistic mood. During an
argument the father has with the youngest daughter, he says in
anger:” You are not my daughter” In a film by Ozu this sentence
from a parent is like a death threat or a verbal abortion.
If ever a film by Ozu
scared me than this extremely sad and abysmal masterpiece called
Tokyo Boshoku.
RĂ¼diger Tomczak
Screenings.
Sun, 25.2, Cinemaxx 8,
11.30
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