Floating Weeds (1959)
Directed by Yasujirô Ozu

Film Review

Yasujirô Ozu had long wanted to remake his silent film A Story of Floating Weeds (1934) but it wasn't until 1959 that he was able to fulfil this ambition.  The year before, his attempt to mount a remake at Shochiku, the company for which he made virtually all of his films, had been thwarted by an unusually mild spell of winter weather.  It was important for Ozu that the film, retitled The Ham Actor, should have a wintry setting, so he postponed the project to make Equinox Flower (1958), his first colour film.  It so happened that Masaichi Nagata, the president of rival company Daiei, was keen to work with Ozu, who was by now recognised as one of Japan's leading filmmakers.  Despite his loyalty to Shochiku, Ozu leapt at the chance to make a film with Daiei, a more prestigious company, and that film was his long awaited remake of A Story of Floating Weeds.

Although Ozu often reused ideas from earlier films, Floating Weeds is the only bona fide remake he attempted.  The plot may be identical to that of his Depression Era masterpiece, but its tone is very different, the bleakness of the earlier film replaced by a warmer, gentler mood of contained melancholia and wistful longing.  There are some changes in the narrative and characterisation, but these are subtle and reflect Ozu's increasing preoccupation with the transience of things. "Change is the only constant", one character remarks, and this is the phrase that most succinctly sums up Ozu's late work.  The heartrending tragedy that lies at the heart of Floating Weeds is not a father's loss of his son, but the realisation that nothing lasts for ever.  The disbanding of Komajuro's happy troupe of kabuki players mirrors the family break-ups that we witness in so many of Ozu's films.  Change is inevitable, and seldom is it without pain.

Floating Weeds presents something of a problem for many of Ozu's most committed enthusiasts, in spite of the fact that it is widely acknowledged as one of the director's finest works.  The film cannot be faulted on its design, nor on the quality of its screenwriting and acting (Daiei supplied Ozu with a first rate class that included top actors Ganjirô Nakamura and Machiko Kyô).  Ozu's attention to detail is as meticulous as ever, every shot composed with the utmost skill and precision.  The opening shot of an empty wine bottle positioned in the frame next to an identically shaped lighthouse is pure genius.  (When writing his scripts, Ozu would measure his progress by the number of bottles of sake he managed to get through.)  Instead of employing tracking shots, Ozu shows how a sequence of static shots can be used to achieve a similar dynamism, so that you hardly notice the camera never moves (except in one rare shot).  As impressive as the film is, however, Ozu's distinctive signature feels somewhat smothered by the production values.  Amidst the gloss and the polish something seems to be missing, that indefinable quality that resonates through almost all of the films that Ozu made for Shochiku.  It would be going too far to describe Floating Weeds as a soulless beauty, for it is unquestionably one of the great masterpieces of post-war Japanese cinema, but Ozu, the master of understatement and quiet recording angel of banal incident, feels curiously absent in this, his most lavish production.

Working for a rival studio, Ozu could hardly available himself of the crew he had nurtured and grown accustomed to at Shochiku.  He had a new pool of expertise to make use of, and this included the great Kazuo Miyagawa, Daiei's most senior cinematographer.  Over the past decade, Miyagawa had distinguished himself with his work on a series of prestigious period films (jidai-geki), including Akira Kurosawa's Rashômon (1950) and all of Kenji Mizoguchi's late films, notably Ugetsu monogatari (1953).  Whereas Yûharu Atsuta, Ozu's loyal cinematographer at Shochiku, had reservations about moving from black-and-white to colour, Miyagawa took to the new medium like a duck to water, and his contribution to Floating Weeds represents the summit of his achievements.  Together, Ozu and Miyagawa created one of the most beautiful films in history, the easiest entry point for any westerner interested in exploring the cinema of the East.

Ozu claims he learned a great deal from Miyagawa during the making of this film.  In his two previous films, Equinox Flower (1958) and Good Morning (1959), Ozu's use of colour is cautious and experimental rather than confident and masterly.  Ozu made the transition to colour with great reluctance and was adamant that he would never make a widescreen film.  The making of Floating Weeds was a profoundly revelatory experience for Ozu.  Under Miyagawa's tutelage, he grew to appreciate how colour could be used to extend and enhance his own aesthetic, to achieve an even richer level of cinematic artistry.  It is possible that, had Ozu lived just a few years longer, he would not only have embraced widescreen, he would also have brought a new splendour and graphic potency to cinema, of the kind we can only guess at.  Alas, Ozu was fated to make only three more films after this, and he died before his true potential could be realised - not that this prevents him from being regarded as the greatest filmmaker who ever lived.

Film Synopsis

One hot summer, a travelling kabuki theatre company arrives at a provincial seaside town.  Whilst the rest of the troupe are busy promoting their show to the townsfolk, its lead actor Komajuro visits his former mistress, Oyoshi, the owner of a small restaurant.  Many years ago, Oyoshi bore Komajuro an illegitimate son, Kiyoshi, and the actor has since made several return visits, pretending to be the boy's uncle.  Kiyoshi now works as a post office clerk but he plans to go to university.  When Sumiko, Komajuro's present mistress and the lead actress in his company, hears that her master has been mysteriously taking time out she becomes suspicious and follows him to Oyoshi's home.  After a violent argument with Komajuro, Sumiko takes her revenge by bribing a young actress, Kayo, to seduce Kiyoshi.  The plan backfires when the two young people fall in love and plan to elope together.  For Komajuro this is the final straw.  With his latest show struggling to attract an audience, the old actor has no option but to disband his troupe.   Before he leaves town, he pays one last visit to Oyoshi and tells Kiyoshi the truth about their relationship...