Friday, June 5, 2009

Tokyo: Fun for the whole family!

While I wouldn't call Ozu's Tokyo Story funtastic or tell everyone to break out the popcorn at the very mention of it, the film left me with a few questions:

Does this film remove or redeem humanity, so often removed by modernist cinema?
What does the effect of the still camera give the film?
How do camera angles present domesticity in the film and how does this contrast to the title of the film?
And How much did Bridgestone pay to get that tyre in there?

On first watching the film, it seems that it highlights the absence of humanity in the family. However, perhaps the greatest commentary on humanity is through its absence. Noriko is the most human character and we see how she is affected by the death of her mother in law. In contrast the detachment of other characters may be seen as a mechanism to deal with the loss of their brother and later their mother, and also with the war which is implicit in the film. Where other films question humanity through commodities ('House') or exaggerating humanity (Mabel's dancing in 'Piccadilly'), the absence of humanity in Tokyo Story raises more appropriate and less cynical questions. It is an absence due to loss, specifically human loss. This is primarily a film about relationships and relationships lost.

This is the first of the films we have seen in which the characters move around in the frame while the camera remains still. This cinematography gives a fly on the wall effect. Perhaps it is more of a fly stuck on the wall. I found myself wanting them to do something more exciting. Maybe that is just my image of modern Tokyo or current films but the lack of emotion coupled with the lack of movement really slowed down the film. I was reminded of Rose Hobart and how it was slowed down to become almost hypnotic. It was like Ozu has the same obsession with this family as Cornell had with Rose Hobart.

The human is also represented in camera angles. In what seems at first to be a game of how-low- can-Ozu-go, the low placement of the camera encapsulates the audience in the world of the characters. Alternatively, other films look down upon characters. We are placed within the living space of the film. And this is exactly what we see throughout the film; living. Characters perform everyday tasks like cleaning and locking doors. It is almost anti-cinematic.

The title implies a focus on the city and yet we see very little of the cityscape or even the streets. It is as though the city is made of domestic spaces. The story isn't about going to Tokyo or even being in Tokyo. The setting is Tokyo and yet the story is exclusively about the family. The domestic space and the everyday activities focus the story on the people in the film, not on the settings or the costume. Eames' 'House After Ten Years' is also focused on the domestic but the absence of people means the audience is detached. Where House defines humanity through commodities, Tokyo Story presents humanity as relationships (no matter how dysfunctional they may be).

xoxo

2 comments:

  1. I very much agree with your statements on the camera-angles used Ozu, though I may not have referred to the banality of everyday tasks performed by the characters as “anti-cinematic”. I am more inclined to think that Tokyo Story is Ozu’s statement that in post-war Japan, the concept of every man for himself is not the best way, as exemplified by the narrative, and that the low-angle shots in conjunction with the everyday tasks are employed to represent the humility and compassion essential to the redevelopment of humanity in a war-ravaged Japan.

    And, like you, I am also curious as to how much the Bridgestone plug cost.

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  2. I think Tokyo does have a role in the film; but it's the same sort of role as the Second World War, or Tami's death. You don't actually see it, and people don't talk about it very often, but it's there. But in the same way as those two things, it's mostly about how urbanisation affects families for the post war generation, rather than the city itself.

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