À l'approche de l'automne

A recurring theme in Naruse's films is how people are driven by circumstance rather than will. Several of his stories are about single women trying to get by in patriarchal postwar Japan, and the choices they have to make to survive. This movie focuses on those who are even less powerful to determine their own fate; the children of these women.

The main protagonist is a boy of around 12 years old who is moved to the city to stay with family while his widowed mother gets a job as a hostess. The mother seems to shun the boy and initially doesn't even mention him to her employer, who herself is the single mother of an illegitimate daughter, a sweet but somewhat spoilt girl of about 10. The two children meet and befriend each other.

The film offers a simple and childlike perspective, which is incredibly effective in conveying the experiences and feelings of the children; it is at times very emotional but it never gets melodramatic. At the same time, the adult world and its complications are presented to the viewer, providing another layer to the film.

The story, while beautiful, is quite sad and has a very unsatisfactory ending. But this ending is perfect for the film, it filled me with great yearning and a feeling of powerlessness, and of humanity.

Twelve-year-old Kenzaburô Ôsawa moves to Tokyo with his mother, Nobuko Otowa; his father died the previous year. Miss Otawa has a job at a tradition inn, so the boy stays with his uncle's family. They run a fading greengrocer in a neighborhood disappearing into business towers. He doesn't get along with the boys in the neighborhood, but makes friends with Futaba Ichiki who, it turns out, is the daughter of the woman who owns the inn Miss Otawa works in. She is the loved but ignored daughter of a man from another city, who visits occasionally. When Miss Otawa disappears with a client, and the girl's father comes along and insists on her mother moving, both youngsters feel like they're disappearing like the neighborhood, a glimpse of the blue sea, and the helmet beetle they're looking for.

Do the Japanese have a saying like "children should be seen and not heard"? Mikio Naruse, who often made movies about women's powerlessness in Japanese society turns his auctorial talents to children, even less regarded in Japanese society. It's a sad and very effective tale of loneliness in the crowds of a dirty, uncaring town.

This is a bit sad but great. Think Kes, the Railway Children and other great children's classics. There's sadness but never sentimentality because children just have to deal with what happens to them.

Here, the kids have single parents, other kids get at them, there's uncertainty and dislocation. Responsible adults can be unfair and ignore or deceive their children. Still, they make friends, have interests and pastimes and are often looked after by friendly grownups, even if their parents aren't perfect. As ever, the strong group culture of Japan, as portrayed, is supportive, even if sometimes oppressive.

The filming is wonderful, not a redundant interior or exterior shot in the pacey 78 minutes and the acting is great by all concerned. Several locations are used well and tied together with street and travel scenes.

Take your kids or not - you'll love it.