Una gallina en el viento

"Record of a Tenement Gentleman" is Ozu's actual first post-war movie, but while it is set in a post-war environment it still relied a lot in his themes of family, father/mother and son, family love that Ozu had always explored, rather than discussing questions from a post-war society.

"A Hen in the Wind" does that. It offers a true war/post-war situation and deals with the people that suffer from it.

The story is quite simple and I've found some of his other movies to be more emotional. However, it is one of his most serious and violent. I do think Ozu is capable of adding more depth to his movies than what we see here, but I was very happy to find a different subject from what he does usually, explored in a such disturbing way. Ozu's themes are pretty much the same all over his work, but "A Hen in the Wind" stands out for a different kind of serious issue. It is, for that, very refreshing.

Very serious, very sad, very human, unexpectedly violent and a touching look at a post-war situation, it stands out mostly for being different from Ozu's usual themes.

A sensitive and powerful examination of the moral compromises made during World War II and the toll they take on families. Kinuyo Tanaka gives another of her sensitive and compelling performances as a woman forced into prostitution to care for her sick child, and is unable to keep her secret when her husband returns from the front. Ozu takes on the topic of prostitution while steering well clear of its potential for sordidness (something I find both a virtue and a limitation... in some ways it's *too* tactful). The scenes between the two exceptional leads contribute to a film blessed with some of the most uncomortable scenes Ozu has filmed, delving deep into raw unresolved emotions of guilt, honor and devotion.

For a while, I've felt like Ozu's titles would work well as lines in haikus. Well, the English versions. Maybe the Japanese originals also retain the right number of syllables, but A Hen in the Wind is five syllables, like the opening line of a haiku. It's also an evocative image that instantly calls to mind potential symbolism, symbolism that follows through from the film itself, a woman caught up in circumstances outside of her control, trying to find some way to land. I do think the film, though, is one of Ozu's unsung masterpieces. This movie crushed me a bit. It's right in this perfect place between melodrama and character-based storytelling, the sort of thing Ozu is not as famous for but could obviously handle really well.

Tokiko (Kinuyo Tanaka) is married to Shuichi (Shuji Sano) who has not been home in four years since before the end of the war. Their son, Hiroshi, has no living memory of his father. Left alone for years, Tokiko has managed to carve out a half-way decent, but impoverished life, maintaining a household that feels like a home for Shuichi's return. Things go wrong with Hiroshi suddenly becomes sick, requiring medical help including ten days in the hospital, something she simply does not have the money for. Through her friend Akiko (Chieko Murata), she knows of a madame who runs a geisha house on the far side of Tokyo. Desperate, Tokiko takes the job for one night to get the money, a choice she does not share with Akiko. And then, of course, Shuichi comes home.

So, what's going on here? It feels like slightly heightened melodrama, delving a bit into the realm of scandalous with Tokiko going into prostitution (all off-screen, of course), but what elevates it above melodrama is the characters and how Ozu approaches telling stories in general. He's not interested in sensationalism (I'm actually regularly reminded of how Clint Eastwood films things), telling his stories in purposefully reserved terms, so when he does deal with stronger emotion, it stands out more. Throw in the fact that these actors are holding back, even at their most emotional moments, and you've got a recipe for drama without melodrama. And that's where emotional power rests quietly.

So, Tokiko has to reveal to Shuichi what she did. It's just the right thing to do, even though she knows it could completely tear her entire life apart. Shuichi gets depressed and angry, confiding in his friend at work, Satake (Chishu Ryu), and deciding to track down the geisha house where she worked. Why? Maybe to find out if she's telling the whole truth and not holding something back. Maybe to get back at her by submitting to temptation. It's not clear, and it's not supposed to be because it's not clear for Shuichi. He's angry, and he's acting out. Until he meets the prostitute he could have relations with, Akiko (Chieko Murata), and he calms down, talking to her about her situation.

There could be a reading that the film excuses prostitution (Ozu apparently wrote about using comfort women while stationed in China in his published diary), but I don't think that's what he's doing. He's telling a story after a war, a time with countless terrible things having happened, and no word at all about Shuichi's involvement in any kind of specifics. What did he do? What did he do that would anger Tokiko? Surely there's something...including comfort women (none of this is explicit, by the way, I'm just trying to approach the material intelligently). He can't rule his emotions so quickly after a shock, but he can learn to get past them.

And the movie actually ends with a surprising shock of violence (melodramatic touch), and then the quiet of an Ozu film. That period of reflection is always key to an Ozu film, and here it's vital. We, along with the characters, consider what has happened, the implications and the potential consequences, all while the film is still going. It's a wonderful way to approach things, and one that's so easily done wrong. Ozu just knows exactly where to put these pauses, and he uses them exquisitely.

Really, this is a marvelous gem of a film. It's one I'd never heard of, and one I think deserves more attention. It's great.

In postwar Japan, a wife has to deal with the consequence of her decision when she needed her son's hospital charges during her husband's absence. The theme, women's harsh reality at the time, is exceptionally serious for Ozu. It makes Hen in the Wind uniquely and intensely emotional, combined with Ozu's style, such as off-screen actions, implicative montages, and singsong dialogues.

Ozu's first movie after the war is full of scenery that points towards a rapidly industrializing Japan. There are no remnants of what happened a handful of years ago. As a son of a single parent, I empathized with the film's protagonist. Yes, Ozu does make his character do the extreme because that makes for a far more engaging cinema.

A Hen in the Wind also manages to depict a real look at marriages and how much woes Japanese (and Southeast Asian) women were subject to. At that time, both capitalist and communist nations put out propaganda films to show their women as leaders. A Hen in the Wind.gives you an authentic peek at how much genuflecting women from these cultures had to perform in order to live a very ordinary life where poverty awaits them at every corner. The Italian film, Bicycle Thieves (released around the same time) makes a great companion piece to A Hen in the Wind. If you've loved one, you'll love the other.