Film Review
In
Where Now Are the Dreams of Youth,
Yasujirô Ozu returns to many of the themes of his previous films
but does so with greater sophistication and insight, an indication of
his growing maturity both as a filmmaker and as a student of human
nature. The film was made quickly, within a month, to fill an
unplanned break during the shooting of
I was Born, But... (1932). By
keeping the expenditure down on this film, Ozu was able to siphon off
money for his next project, the far more ambitious
Until the Day We Meet Again
(1932). From this, you might conclude that
Where Now Are the Dreams of Youth
was merely an exercise in cost-cutting necessity; in fact, of all Ozu's
silent films, it is one of the most perceptive and endearing - a barbed
satire on how the class divisions in modern-day Japan continue to
disfigure human relationships and thwart personal happiness.
The scriptwriter Kôgo Noda claims to have taken the story from
Old Heidelberg, a German romantic
play by Wilhelm Meyer-Förster which was first performed in
1901. The same play had previously been adapted for cinema by
Ernst Lubitsch as
The Student Prince
(1927). In common with many of his silent films, Ozu sets the
play in an overtly westernised version of his own country - traditional
Japanese motifs are present, but these are outnumbered by American
cultural influences, most visibly the plethora of signs and film
posters written in English. It may have been the tight time and
money constraints that led Ozu to recycle many ideas and plot
situations from his previous films, as well as re-using actors he knew
and trusted, including his favourites Kinuyo Tanaka, Tatsuo Saitô
and Chishû Ryû.
The first part of the film feels like a continuation of
I Flunked But... (1930),
opening with a similar gang of dancing cheerleaders who ended that
earlier film. Ozu repeats the pattern of his previous student
comedies, showing carefree students idling away their time and
reserving their ingenuity for cheating in the end-of-term exams.
Again, Ozu takes his inspiration from the great Harold Lloyd, turning
in another respectable series of visual gags. In one scene, two
work-shy students are so absorbed in their game of chess (they hold the
board in mid-air as they play out-of-doors) that they cannot hear the
bell announcing the end of their break. The bell-ringer who has
tried so desperately to attract the students' attention ends up being
equally mesmerised by their game. The exam cheating sequence is
virtually identical to that in
I
Flunked But..., and Ozu even has the gall to repeat it later on
in the film, almost shot-for-shot. Well, if an idea's good enough
to use once, it's good enough to use a dozen times...
The illusion that
Where Now Are the
Dreams of Youth is going to be just another student comedy is
brutally dispelled when, almost mid-way into the film, the main
character (Tetsuo Horino, played by the highly photogenic Ureo Egawa)
learns of the death of his father. This sudden shift from playful
comedy to something that is far darker in tone is a recurring feature
of Ozu's later silent films, reflecting the director's own gradual
transition from a purveyor of populist comic nonsense to a more serious
director with a profound affinity for the small dramas of everyday
human experience. What begins as farce becomes social critique
and then poignant melodrama, as Ozu gets to grips with two of his
favourite themes: class and modernity.
Where Now Are the Dreams of Youth
is among Ozu's most eloquent indictments of Japan's hierarchical class
system, perhaps the one aspect of Japanese society that was most
resilient to the modernising influences of the West. At
university, the class divisions appear to be temporarily suspended, so
that close friendships can be forged between young men from all social
spheres. But after the fateful day of graduation, such
friendships can only endure if the class system allows them to.
As the hero of Ozu's film discovers, one's loyalty to one's social
class inevitably overrides all other loyalties, including those of
friendship.
In this film, Tetsuo's transformation, from carefree student to
responsible company boss, mirrors that of Kiichi (a Kendo-loving
outsider) in Ozu's previous
The Lady and the Beard
(1931). Like Kiichi, Tetsuo has no choice but to give in to
social norms if he is to make a success of his life. Kiichi only
has to surrender his beard; Tetsuo must sacrifice something far more
important: his former friendships and juvenile illusions. Both
films serve as a subtle metaphor for Japan's modernisation under
western influences throughout the 1920s and 30s - as society changes to
embrace modernity, old values and old traditions must be
discarded. Such is the price of progress.
It is ironic that the thing which alienates Tetsuo from his college
buddies is his decision to offer them jobs in his company. It is
an act of misplaced kindness that rebounds, reinforcing the social
barriers between Tetsuo (the boss) and his friends (the grateful
workers). More tragically, Tetsuo's new status robs him of future
happiness with the woman he has fallen in love with, a baker's
assistant (Shigeko) who naturally cannot hope to marry someone in his
elevated position. When Tetsuo learns that his beloved has chosen
instead to marry one of his college pals, he is naturally outraged and
sees this as the ultimate betrayal. In fact, it is merely
the unavoidable result of having a flawed social system that impairs
the ability of human beings to find true fulfilment in their lives.
Shigeko's selfless abandonment of Tetsuo is a cruel inversion of
Tetsuo's earlier spiteful rejection of the 'modern woman' that his
uncle has chosen for him as a wife. In a scene that is
reminiscent of Kiichi's initial refusal to discard his beard and
outdated garments in
The Lady and
the Beard, Tetsuo spurns the modern woman because he equates her
modernity with shallow vulgarity; he prefers the more traditional
Japanese woman, personified by the hard-working, kimono-wearing bakery
girl, Shigeko. Once Tetsuo has taken his rightful place in
society, as the immaculately turned out director of a modern
corporation, a taste for tradition becomes the one luxury he cannot
afford. He will doubtless marry a modern socialite whose idea of
culture extends no further than this season's fashionable
adornments. The film may end on an upbeat note, with Tetsuo
apparently having patched up his differences with his old buddies, but
the bonhomie now feels forced, tempered with a wistful sense of
loss. As Tetsuo waves goodbye to the bride that was not to be, he
appears to be saying farewell to his youth, and the hollow dreams on
which it was built.
© James Travers 2013
The above content is owned by filmsdefrance.com and must not be copied.
Next Yasujirô Ozu film:
Dragnet Girl (1933)