Last month I went to see a small screening of the silent film I Was Born, But… directed by Yasujiro Ozu. I really enjoyed the movie and the experience of going somewhere new to see it. I’ve seen multiple Ozu films before, but this was my first time seeing one at a screening rather than borrowing a copy of something from the library. It was also interesting to see what elements of Ozu’s style appear to have remained in his earlier silent films and what seem to have developed more over time, so I’ve been wanting to talk about that.
I Was Born, But… is described as being like an adult colouring-in book due to it capturing a child’s perspective on adult life. It’s a look into the lives of two young brothers who have just moved to a new town for their father’s job, their understanding of his role in that hierarchy and his status when compared to their friend’s father. Being the new kids in town, the boys come face-to-face with the local boys and their bully ringleader. Tensions are smoothed over once the pair enlist the help of an older boy and win the group over. With their newfound friends, the brothers begin to notice differences between their own parents and that of their friends. For the first time, the boys become aware of a difference in seniority and position when they notice that their father would bow to their friend’s father and greet him formally, but the same respect wasn’t reciprocated. The brothers learn more about the extent of the hierarchy and become upset with their parents. They don’t understand why things are the way they are but come to accept it when they realise that this doesn’t change anything between them and their friend.
I liked that this movie, like other Ozu movies, tackle topics featuring issues overall society that can make you think about the culture and overall situation behind the issues that the characters face. And yet, Ozu manages to do this with a largely positive tone and calming pace which makes you feel immersed in the characters day-to-day lives. It was also interesting to note the differences between this film and Ozu’s later films which go about creating a sense of place and pace in the film much differently.
When you compare the 1932, black and white, silent I Was Born, But… to the much later 1959, colour film Floating Weeds (which is currently the only colour Ozu film I’ve seen so far), it’s interesting to see the earlier absence of atmosphere building shots referred to as Ma 間. Commonly referred to and defined as negative space, Ma type shots in Ozu’s films create valuable pauses for breath between scenes that offer you more of an insight into the surroundings of the characters and can work to build the atmosphere of coming scenes, and more. The lack of the prominence of this kind of fillers in I Was Born, But… doesn’t result in the film feeling lacking at all by any means, but instead just results in the pace having a different feel to it than you can expect from Ozu’s later work.
As I Was Born, But… allows you to question Japan’s hierarchical workplace culture through the lens of children who don’t understand the reasoning hierarchical and socio-economic differences, The Flavour of Green Tea Over Rice also is great at creating a platform for allowing social issues to be questioned without a heavy tone. In The Flavour of Green Tea Over Rice, this is done through looking at arranged marriages and a long-married couple’s initially cynical view of their own marriage; how it has grown stale and they have become distant. This narrative is explored while a younger female relative is hesitant to get married, with people coming from all sides trying to set her up with someone. She sees the state of the marriages of the older women in her life and sees nothing to desire out of marriage let alone the arranged marriage they want for her. But the film comes to a head when the main, older couple have a quiet moment to themselves one night where they meet each other halfway and get some simple and open communication. The film is left on an all-round positive note, with the married couple falling in love with each other. The Flavour of Green Tea Over Rice starts out seeming to hold the commonly held cynical view of marriage and arranged marriage being a necessity or hardship to endure but offers the possibility of love when people set their pride aside and get to know each other. Rather than drawing clear moral conclusions on the issues he covers, Ozu offers hopeful solutions regardless.
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