El fin del otoño

When the patriarch of a family dies, one of his friends decides to find a husband for his daughter, and in the middle, also for the recent widow. A beautiful work by Yasujiro Ozu, on the tradition of Japanese arranged weddings, with a touch of satire and comedy. We see many familiar faces in the cast, from previous films by Ozu, and we can even pretend that they are part of the same cinematographic universe, and thus create a thread with the narratives.

If you have never seen a film by Yasujiro Ozu, you may have difficulty adjusting to his restrained and subtle handling of emotions; identifying Ozu as a director not known for action-packed narrative is massive understatement, as his films reflect a less hectic time and an ancient culture slowly coming to terms with change.

On the surface, this film is simply about the separation occurring as a daughter marries and a parent is left behind. With Ozu, however, carefully and consistently arranging composition, with gentle humor and a quiet observation of the human condition, there is much to be gained from reflection, from watching people realistically and patiently coming to terms with change. No one screams and throws dishes, no one bleeds copiously or falls out of a window, no one even runs across the street. My grandmother used to say "possess your soul in patience," and that said, a viewer may need to do just that with Late Autumn; the willing viewer will be amply rewarded with this amazing examination of calm resignation in the face of a life change

Well, it was bound to happen eventually: The more films I viewed from noted Japanese auteur Yasujiro Ozu, there was going to come a time when my well of interest ran dry. I have now seen ten of his films, and Ozu seems unique among filmmakers, even the most praised, by being essentially the anti-Billy Wilder. Where Wilder's mind was so brilliantly scattered that he did pictures in nearly every conceivable genre, and did them well, Ozu was always more interested in mining different stories out of the same cloth, hopping from patch to patch on a quilt of nuanced familial drama. Where Wilder branched out, Ozu dug his roots in deep. He had an exclusive stable of actors, comprising some of the most talented and, like their helmsman, subtly versatile actors in the business, including the transcendent Chishu Ryu and the great Sestuko Hara, appearing here as the mother to the always-adorable Yoko Tsukasa, essaying the role that Hara herself brought to life in Late Spring. Ryu has the remarkable ability to present to us a man of any age with very little in the way of physical alterations (in the span of five years, he played father, brother and grandfather to Hara and was utterly convincing in all). Hara has the exact opposite gift: That of an ageless wonder. Early on in Late Autumn, a comment is made that Hara and her daughter Tsukasa look more like sisters than mother-daughter, and it's absolutely true. In the eleven-year span from Spring to Autumn, Hara has swapped roles but kept the same face, and she brings her A-game yet again, looking more weary and fatigued than ever before.

But there's a problem. Where Ozu's style had always seemed evocative and direct, here is seems...stilted and awkward. The use of direct address in discussions seems disjointed and stiff. What felt emotionally confrontational in Late Spring comes off here as almost amateurish, merely content to blandly cut back and forth between one talking head and another. The fact that he's done that all his career perhaps says something about this film as an individual entity. Or perhaps it's just become all too familiar. When you're looking to derive a myriad of tales from the same few thematic points, there's always the danger of indifference; having the same actors play similar characters doing similar things in similar ways in movies with similar titles, it's a testament to his brilliance that he managed to make it more than one film, but here, it all just strikes of creative exhaustion: He's seemingly run out of stories to the point that he's now reworking the similar stories he's already done, as this is almost directly a remake of his 1949 masterpiece Late Spring, except mostly from the female perspective. While it appears to be a monumental shift for such a gradual director (I still remember first experiencing Tokyo Story and being so startled by its singular tracking shot that I was shaken to my core), actually far too little is new. Most of the motions and emotions we are presented with were all essentially inferred in Late Spring, and this seems if nothing else, an unnecessary diversion to a place we're already been.

Now this is not to say that the film is a complete dud. Everyone involved is so talented that they can't help but stumble into several moments of effective heartstrain, most notable the touching restraint of the final shot, but I just can't shake the feeling that with Late Autumn, instead of hopping to a new stitch on the quilt, he's stepping right back onto trampled-down, treaded ground. Where Late Spring presented this story and devastated me, going right to my heart and laying me out flat. To Late Autumn I'm a bit more...subdued. I never connected to the characters or the situation in any tangible or meaningful way, and my response to the film was less "Holy crap" and more "ho-hum".

{Grade: 6.5/10 (B-/C+) / #24 (of 34) of 1960}

In many ways a retread of his earlier masterpiece Late Spring, which dealt with the relationship between a widowed father and his marry-able daughter, Ozu returned to familiar territory as he often did late in his career for a look at the flip-side. Here, the mother is widowed and desires to see her daughter married and happy. Three friends determine to intervene, leaving a trail of misunderstandings and hurt feelings in their attempt to appease all involved.

While this is certainly a familiar story for Ozu to tell, he somehow manages to inject new life into it every time out. Through a beautiful color palette and his famous visual style, Ozu explores a world of postwar Japan that finally appears to be picking itself up fifteen years after World War II. Western dress and behavior continues to seep into Japanese culture and Ozu seems to be picking up on the rapid evolution of change within his country throughout these late career works. His lack of interest in plot and storytelling leaves the viewer more time to focus on the atmosphere, the context in which the story is set. The result is a very pensive and serene feeling as one realizes that no matter what time or place, humans will always desire certain things. Companionship, love and happiness will never go out of style, even for widowed women.

Apparently this is a semi-remake of one of Ozu's own films, which I haven't seen (Late Spring). It's also a little familiar to the most recent Ozu film I watched, 1962's An Autumn Afternoon. Besides having titles that share a word, each involves parents looking for partners for their daughter to marry. In An Autumn Afternoon, it's a father looking for someone for his daughter to marry, and in Late Autumn, it's a mother looking for someone to marry her daughter (with the help of three very entertaining male side characters, who sort of kick off the main plot without being the film's lead characters).

Yasujiro Ozu's films are slow and touching, but never dry or overly sentimental. Personally, I have to be in the right mood to get attached to them, but thankfully, tonight was the right mood. I found this very engaging throughout, and thought the characters were endearing, the visuals were very pleasant to look at, and the mix of drama and humour was pitch-perfect.

There is still the slow pacing that I was aware of here and there, but not too often, all things considered. Part of me felt like 130 minutes was a little long, but another part of me enjoyed spending over two hours with these characters and their important (but not too high stakes) life decisions. I even had to remind myself they were fictional, after I thought to myself right after the movie ended that I hoped a character would be okay in their life going forward... before pinching myself and realising that they're fictional, and there technically is no more life for them to live once the screen fades to black. I think that's the sign of good writing and acting right there.