When it comes to cinematic form & content, the films of Yasujiro Ozu are the classic example of the art that conceals art. He's the subtlest of revolutionaries, and his deceptively simple family dramas are so compellingly told, shot & acted, you rarely pick up on just how distinctive (even odd) his film technique is. Everyone picks up on his use of still interstitial shots between scenes (like a cleansing sorbet between courses) and his signature low-angle camera positions. A seated POV?; Japanese cultural restraint apologizing for a voyeuristic medium?; a Buddhist refusal to dominate?; Naval gazing? These ideas aren't very helpful . . . or illuminating. Just think of Ozu as a great pianist, raising or lowering his seat-bench until he finds his most comfortable position. This film is a typical Ozu tale of an extended family trying to land a husband for a sister who's on the verge of spinsterhood. (She’s all of 28!) It shows the great man at his best; turning out natural, moving, intensely felt, utterly committed filmmaking which should be mandatory viewing for every over-active camera-hound who calls himself a director.
SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: What a treasure the Japanese house, with it’s boxy form and sliding panel doors, is to an edit savvy director!
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