Yasujiro Ozu’s Japanese classic Tokyo Story (1953) presents us with a contrasting change of pace compared to some of the other modern films we have studied throughout the semester. Indeed, known for his ability to craft calm, beautiful and artistic works, Ozu does exactly that in this film. It is the pace (or lack there of) in Tokyo Story that I am intrigued by. Despite being an extremely emotional tale, the film is characterized by a strong sense of serenity. So I started thinking, how does Ozu achieve this?
The opening sequence of Tokyo Story provides us with an early indication of what to expect from the rest of the film in terms of its gentle pace. The credits, for instance, are literally displayed on the screen with no movement or other ‘exciting’ features usually found in modernist films of the fifties. Furthermore, in the first few shots we see a motor boat puttering slowly across the river, children walking peacefully to school and a high-angled shot of a train making its way through the town. Here, it lacks the imposing nature of other trains we have seen such as Rutmann’s depiction of a powerful machine in Berlin. Due to the fact that we are looking down upon the train in Tokyo Story, it merely blends into its surroundings rather than dominating the screen.
Throughout the film the camera takes on a fairly submissive role, acting as an ‘observer’ of the story. What I mean by this is that it is rarely used elaborately by Ozu. His pans are slow and there are very few quick cuts from one character to another. Along with this, the characters are fixated on each other. They never have eyes for the camera and are often looking away from it when they are talking. Because of this almost ‘documentary’ style of shooting, the film’s leisurely pace becomes magnified.
Sticking with Japanese culture, when in their home, Shukichi and Tomi are often seen sitting on the floor. Ozu emphasizes this with his use of ground-level shots, giving the audience the same viewpoint as his characters. Such shots give the film a sense of richness and tradition.
Finally, Ozu often uses an ellipsis to tell Tokyo Story. This is a technique in which important events are not shown on screen and are usually revealed later through dialogue. For example, Tomi’s death is left out by Ozu. In more traditional cinema, such events which are left out by Ozu would usually be the focus of the film. Nevertheless, having to hear what happened via the characters’ speech is yet another way in which Tokyo Story continues at a comforting pace.
I viewed Tokyo Story as a welcomed change from the many highly-charged and quick-paced films I have seen recently. It contrasts the energetic nature of consumer culture and bustling cities often associated with the fifties and leaves you reflecting on an emotional, beautiful piece of cinematography. This is a credit to Ozu’s abilities as a film maker.
Thanks for reading.
The opening sequence of Tokyo Story provides us with an early indication of what to expect from the rest of the film in terms of its gentle pace. The credits, for instance, are literally displayed on the screen with no movement or other ‘exciting’ features usually found in modernist films of the fifties. Furthermore, in the first few shots we see a motor boat puttering slowly across the river, children walking peacefully to school and a high-angled shot of a train making its way through the town. Here, it lacks the imposing nature of other trains we have seen such as Rutmann’s depiction of a powerful machine in Berlin. Due to the fact that we are looking down upon the train in Tokyo Story, it merely blends into its surroundings rather than dominating the screen.
Throughout the film the camera takes on a fairly submissive role, acting as an ‘observer’ of the story. What I mean by this is that it is rarely used elaborately by Ozu. His pans are slow and there are very few quick cuts from one character to another. Along with this, the characters are fixated on each other. They never have eyes for the camera and are often looking away from it when they are talking. Because of this almost ‘documentary’ style of shooting, the film’s leisurely pace becomes magnified.
Sticking with Japanese culture, when in their home, Shukichi and Tomi are often seen sitting on the floor. Ozu emphasizes this with his use of ground-level shots, giving the audience the same viewpoint as his characters. Such shots give the film a sense of richness and tradition.
Finally, Ozu often uses an ellipsis to tell Tokyo Story. This is a technique in which important events are not shown on screen and are usually revealed later through dialogue. For example, Tomi’s death is left out by Ozu. In more traditional cinema, such events which are left out by Ozu would usually be the focus of the film. Nevertheless, having to hear what happened via the characters’ speech is yet another way in which Tokyo Story continues at a comforting pace.
I viewed Tokyo Story as a welcomed change from the many highly-charged and quick-paced films I have seen recently. It contrasts the energetic nature of consumer culture and bustling cities often associated with the fifties and leaves you reflecting on an emotional, beautiful piece of cinematography. This is a credit to Ozu’s abilities as a film maker.
Thanks for reading.
I found the lack of movement/'excitement' in the credits particularly interesting too - it's so rare to see this when so many films try to integrate the credits with the opening of the film so as not to bore people. I found Ozu's technique very calming and almost as a 'palate cleanser' in preparation for the film.
ReplyDeleteThe thing that struck me were the shots of nothing included in the film. Which is to say, where there would normally be establishing shots, full of information and things you have to look at, Ozu tends to go for things like a shot of two shoes, or that one repeated washing line that means 'suburbs'. It's like a lot like Japanese painting; far more blank space that makes the details stand out.
ReplyDeleteYeah I agree with what you said about Tokyo story being a welcome change from the films we've see, because as opposed to the intensely visual focus of Ruttmann and Vidor, this film effectively brought together aesthetics and conventional narrative structures
ReplyDeleteAh Timothy, if great minds can think alike, why not ours! I too enjoyed how the story was told through omission and was going to compare this to Japanese and Chinese art. Check out the work of Xia Gui and Ma Yuan for some good examples of this. But I must admit that I actually didn't really notice Ozu doing this before reading this blog -- great post Cameron.
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