December 19, 2013
Tokyo Chorus –
Japan, 1931
Yasujiro Ozu’s 1931 film Tokyo
Chorus is a sweet look at the life of a young man trying to establish himself
in the world at a time of economic hardship and approaching catastrophic world
events. The film is a combination of the genres that most entertained audiences
in Japan at the time of its release. It has elements of a youth comedy in which
young men act silly and play jokes on their elders and elements of a family drama,
one in which a family must contend with hardship in multiple forms. It also has
as its lead character a salaryman, a man whom many people in the audience must
have seen themselves, their friends, or their children in. We follow salaryman,
Shinji Okajima (Tokihiko Okada), from his days fooling around in school to his
days years later working as an insurance agent in Tokyo. The years have done
nothing to dampen his rebellious nature. The film’s first act strikes a rather
humorous tone, and it is filled with jolly pranksters, secretive co-workers
trying to sneak a peak at their colleagues’ bonuses, and a verbal duel
involving two men engaged in what appears to be a fan-slamming competition. It
then takes on a more serious tone and becomes a film about economic survival. That
these distinct genres fit so well together is rather remarkable.
After hearing about a senior employee who has been recently
laid off, Shinji decides to confront his boss. His efforts, while noble, only
lead to his termination. From here, the film focuses on his efforts to keep his
family healthy and content, while trying to secure newemployment. It proves
harder than he expected. His situation is worsened by the demands of his seemingly
spoiled son Sono Chounan (Hideo Sugawara). Having seen all of friends riding
shiny, new bicycles, he has decided that he too must have one, and he’ll accept
no substitute. His demands reminded me of the children in Ozu’s later film Good Morning. In that film, two children
take a vow of silence until their father buys them a television. Here the boy
just screams and wails at the injustice of it all, and it is not as easy to empathize
with him, especially given the fact that we know why his father didn’t buy him
one. To survive, the family must therefore make some tough decisions, and at
one point, Ozu gives his audience an important example of one. He focuses his lens on Shinji’s wife Tsuma
(Emiko Yagumo), as she opens her bureau drawers expecting to find her collection
of treasured kimonos. Her reaction to the emptiness that greets her speaks a thousand
words.
It is a cliché to describe a film such as this one as being
about the will to survive and the power of the human spirit, and yet that is exactly
what it is. The kinds of events that Sinjo and his family endure are the kinds
that indeed try men’s souls and have the potential to cause people to give in
to despair. During one such moment, we watch as Tsuma begins to softly weep as
she and her family all play a childhood game. It is a bit of foreshadowing that
the game involves them sitting close together as a family and finding a way to
smile, for this is how they will have to remain if they are to persevere.
The film has been called a family comedy, even though there
are far more serious moments in it than comedic, and the performances of its cast
have obviously been influenced by later thoughts regarding acting in silent
films. Gone are the exaggerated mannerisms that marked the early comedies and
dramas of the silent era. In their place are more realistic expressions and
hints of actual dialogue being spoken in between intertitles. In other words,
it has the look of a modern-day talkie, sans the dialogue.
I mentioned that the film was released not long before the
start of World War II. Now, Ozu and the film’s screenwriters, Kogo Noda and
Komatsu Kitamura, could not possibly have known that Japan would soon be engaged
in one of the most horrendous conflicts of modern history, but I have a feeling
that they could sense there was a movement afoot. Perhaps this is the reason that
the film’s final act strikes such a somber tone, as the protagonist’s former
teacher (Tatsuo Saito), a man who would have lived through the First World War
and the trying years that followed, looks at his former students as if their
rather joyful rendition of a graduation song is marking their official entrance
into an adult world for which they are woefully ill-prepared. It is as if we
are watching these characters – so young and full of promise – in their last
genuinely innocent moments.
It is true that Ozu made better films, films that compared
to this one seem more focused and less repetitive. However, watching this one,
I could see evidence of a director that understood the plights of everyday
people and knew how to tell their stories. Tokyo
Chorus marks a turning point in a career that continues to astound
moviegoers, and as such, it is likely required viewing for Ozu’s fans, as well
as film buffs curious about the progression of one of film’s most respected directors.
More importantly, however, the film is a fun and moving experience. (on DVD as
part of Eclipse: Silent Ozu – Three Family
Dramas)
3 and a half stars
*Tokyo Chorus is
silent with English intertitles.
No comments:
Post a Comment