Film Review
Equinox Flower (a.k.a.
Higanbana) marked yet another
turning point in the career of filmmaker Yasujirô Ozu, his first
colour film. It had been seven years since Keisuke Kinoshita had
made Japan's first colour feature,
Carmen
Comes Home, and Ozu's first foray into the medium was more or
less foisted on him by his bosses at Shôchiku, in an attempt to
capitalise on their latest prized asset, Fujiko Yamamoto. One of
the most popular young actresses of the time, and easily one of the
most photogenic, Yamamoto was under contract to rival company Daiei
when she was loaned out to Shôchiku. It seems unlikely that
Ozu, a committed ensemble director, would employ someone of Yamamoto's
star status in any of his films, but he made good use of her talents in
what is little more than a glorified cameo role, playing a character
that typifies his notion of modern youth: the carefree individualist.
The film came about when Ozu abandoned his plans to remake his earlier
film
A Story of Floating Weeds
(1934) owing to an unusually mild spell of weather in the early months
of 1958. This provided an opportunity for Ozu to fulfil a
longstanding ambition, to adapt a novel by one of his favourite
writers, Ton Satomi, who had become a near-neighbour of his after his
move to Kamakura in 1952. In the end, Ozu and Satomi agreed to
develop a script and novel together in parallel, the result being
Equinox Flower, named after the red
lycoris, a kind of amaryllis that is the very essence of Japanese
daintiness.
Red was the colour for which Ozu had a natural affinity, as is apparent
from each of his colour films. In
Equinox Flower, the director
employs a characteristically restrained palette consisting of muted
greens, browns, greys and blues. But in almost every shot there
is an eye-catching speck of red that serves as an irresistible focal
point. This might be a kettle that has a strange habit of moving
about at will in the main characters' living room, it might be a vase
ornately laden with pretty flowers, or it might be an item of clothing
on a washing line. (The reason why Ozu opted for Agfacolor,
overruling his studio's preference for Kodak's Eastmancolor or
Fujifilm, was because he wanted the red to stand out more.) There
is no obvious rationale for this stylistic indulgence, but it adds to
the visual composition of the film, a smattering of fairytale unreality
to offset and accentuate the ordinariness of the characters' humdrum
lives. Like his Hollywood contemporary Douglas Sirk, Ozu uses
colour in a mischievous and ironic vein.
Here Ozu revisits the themes of earlier films, borrowing most of the
plot from
Early Summer (1951) but
altering his perspective slightly so that now there is no doubt he is
on the side of the younger generation. In previous films which
dealt with inter-generational conflict, Ozu was broadly even-handed,
sympathising both with the older folk who were wedded to the traditions
of the past and the youngsters who put their own search for personal
happiness before slavish adherence to convention. This cultural
dichotomy, indicative of Ozu's own ambivalence about change, is
succinctly captured in one scene in
Equinox
Flower, where the patriarchal father Hirayama and his wife
Kiyoko (played by Ozu regular Kinuyo Tanaka) reminisce on the 'good old
days'. Kiyoko has fond memories of the time when families were
close and shared a common purpose; her husband can only remember the
hardship, the lack of money and material well-being. In another
scene, Hirayama and his drinking buddies are seen wallowing in
nostalgia, mourning the passing of a male chauvinistic age in which
everyone knew her place. "Ever with us are the dreams of
our youth..."
With youth culture and female empowerment now established facts of
Japanese life, Ozu would have been foolish and ludicrously out-of-date
if he had not altered his position to become more pro-woman and
pro-youth. In
Equinox Flower,
the patriarch (Wataru Hirayama) is no longer a figure of authority but
a figure of fun, a stumbling cultural dinosaur who faces being blown
away by the winds of change. Hirayama is not only a social
fossil, he is also a steaming hypocrite. He happily countenances
love matches between other people's sons and daughters but when his own
daughter threatens to deny him the honour of arranging a marriage for
her he is transformed into a sulking reactionary tyrant.
Outflanked and out-manoeuvred by the women who surround him, including
his dutiful, long-suffering wife, he becomes emasculated, the proud
head of the household reduced to a scowling, self-pitying eunuch.
Comedy, so much a feature of Ozu's early films, had been pretty well
absent throughout the 21 years since his 1937 film
What Did the Lady Forget?
Granted, there was the small matter of World War II and the long period
of austerity that followed, but Ozu's reluctance to make a single
comedy over this period is hard to fathom. With
Equinox Flower, Ozu greets comedy
like an old friend, eschewing the boistrous slapstick of his early
years for a more brutal form of satire, mercilessly caricaturing the
older generation and their out-dated attitudes. Whether it be the
increasingly desperate lengths one old lady goes to to find a husband
for her daughter, or the ease with which the scheming Yukiko manages to
con Hirayama into giving his accord to his daughter's marriage, Ozu's
humorous assaults on traditional parental authority are as cruel as
they are funny. Yet beneath the humour there is a sustained
undercurrent of regret, a sense that Ozu is witness to a world that is
perhaps changing too fast for his liking. As we watch the final
shot of a departing train that calls to mind the ending of
A Story of Floating Weeds, a film
in which a father is irrevocably separated from his son, we too feel a
pang of sorrow for the passing of a time when families were closer and
more strongly bound by mutual respect and understanding.
© James Travers 2013
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Next Yasujirô Ozu film:
Floating Weeds (1959)