The Spy in the Sandwich

Wednesday, July 29, 2020

10:00 AM | The Film Meme No. 95

[95th of 100]. Time is gold. We have been told this since we were young and malleable enough to learn maxims -- but this one is true, and gets even truer as we grow older. Spending time with people you love -- friends and family -- is a gift: there's just no other way we can best show appreciation for others except by being there for them. I know this, but I also know I'm a big transgressor of this. There's just something in me that wants to hide from the world; it is part of the same shadow that makes me believe I am alone and have no one. It's a lie, of course -- but it does keep me from spending time with people I love, like my mother. I think of these things sharply after watching once more this 1953 masterpiece from Yasujiro Ozu, whose films stir with so much tumult under such pristine surfaces. They're mostly about domestic misgivings that threaten to erupt, but are eased away by gentle talk and subtly measured misdirections. Sometimes the result is tragic, sometimes somebody keen enough to be honest does speak up -- but almost all ends in the resignation that proclaims, "Isn't life disappointing?" Ozu's answer is a gentle nod, and a push that says, "Let's live anyway." This is perhaps an understandable response to post-War Japanese realities. Like Leo McCarey's Make Way for Tomorrow [1937] before it, a Hollywood film which galvanised Japanese audiences and inspired screenwriter Kogo Noda to do a loose adaptation, Ozu's most acclaimed film [it is regularly touted as one of the best films ever made] is designed to not just be a heartbreaking tearjerker, it's also a rebuke to the shortcomings of children with regards the welfare of elderly parents. [And in doing so, it also makes a case of indicting changing contemporary mores.] Here we meet a couple in the twilight of their lives. They live in Onomichi in Hiroshima Prefecture, quite a long distance from the capital. They have five children -- two who live in Tokyo: Kōichi, now a doctor, and Shige, now a beautician; one who lives in nearby Osaka: Keizō, a journalist; one lives at home with them: Kyōko, a student; and one who is presumed dead in World War II, but his wife Noriko, who also lives in Tokyo, remains loyal to her in-laws, eschewing remarriage for personal reasons. The couple, Shūkichi and Tomi, are excited to go on an extended trip to Tokyo to see their children -- but the trip proves a disappointment, although they are careful not to criticise. They find that, despite superficial shows of excitement, their children find their visit an unwanted intrusion into their busy lives. They find quick ways to pawn them off: booking them on a disappointing stay in a cheap resort in Atami, or making their sister-in-law Noriko entertain them in their stead, which Noriko does with aplomb and with genuine care for her in-laws. The ending is a tragedy where no one learns their lessons, except for the youngest, Kyōko, who calls her siblings "selfish" -- but not to their faces. It is Noriko who remains the truest of them all, but also one with the most practical view of the situation. To Kyōko's outrage, she responds with what seems like wisdom culled from life's disappointments: "As children get older, they drift away from their parents ... They have their own lives to look after ... I may become like that, in spite of myself." She believes this, but her action belies her view -- because she never drifts away, and she never stops caring, even for people who are not even her real parents. It all makes me feel guilty: my mother lives only a kilometer away from me, but I rarely see her, ascribing it all to "being busy." Such a lie. I hope I'm brave enough to call my own bullshit, and spend time the way it's meant to be spent: in the company of people I love. What's the film?

For the introduction to this meme, read here.

Labels: family, film