I’m not familiar with the films of Yasujiro Ozu but it seems this one is about the individual’s place within a family and a family’s place within a community or Japanese society as a whole. My understanding is that these themes are not uncommon to Ozu’s work. They are certainly themes that could be explored indefinitely, with endless permutations.
Having seen Kon Ichikawa’s The Makioka Sisters only a few days before watching this film, I was struck by the fact that these two Japanese movies (made decades apart but taking place in roughly the same era) both deal with marriage in terms of it being an imperative for women. The cliché of American women being pestered by their mothers to marry if they’ve stayed single through their 20’s seems like a rather minor nuisance when compared to the pressure put on these young Japanese women. The world doesn’t seem to know what to do with them if they’re not wed. Ozu, though, does find ways to subtly hint that these old ways are already changing.
Ozu’s trademark aesthetic approach, which I had already read plenty about without seeing any of his films, proves mightily effective and surprisingly compelling to behold. The camera generally remains low to the ground, reflecting the way that family’s in Japan spend time together, eating meals while sitting more or less on the floor. The camera doesn’t move but that choice is deceptive in its simplicity. Not only is there a visually pleasing use of dividing the frame via lines and right angles but Ozu also often positions his shots so that you see the room in front of you and then the hallway beyond it and then the room beyond that. This depth provides myriad interest for the viewer.
I look forward to seeing more of Ozu’s films. His rigid yet comforting visual style as well as his seemingly natural hand with actors make me think I could watch a thousand films about the same family and never be bored.
The Ugly Truth
I like to watch movies I’m told are crap because I never want to get too insulated in good stuff that I forget how much of an enemy to art corporate filmmaking can be. After having watched The Ugly Truth, I won’t need another reminder for a long time.
Perpetually unlikable actress Katherine Heigl plays a woman who is a pragmatic and rational professional. So of course she’s woefully unfulfilled romantically. Plus she has a cat so she was kind of doomed from the start. Any idea that she could be an example of feminine independence and progressive thinking is dashed when the Hollywood screenwriters yank us back to their version of reality, wherein every woman, no matter how intelligent and accomplished, needs a crass, barely post-adolescent, anti-intellectual but virile man to be happy. Men, by the way, should be just as insulted by this movie as women but, then again, men weren’t ever intended to see it.
So a bunch of shit happens, there’s a lot of embarrassingly unfunny attempts at crass humor and the film ends with me shoving the Netflix envelope back into the mail as forcefully as possible.
Entrance
So Tyler reviewed this film already on the site and you should read it because he’s right. And you should see the film, too, if you have the chance.
Entrance is notable for being a sort of formal experiment – the main characters occupies literally every single frame of the film – that never forgets to also be a compelling story and a damn disturbing horror movie. The story concerns a young woman living in a pretty fucking great Echo Park house with her roommate and working at a coffee shop while undergoing a brand of urban isolation that is unique to those who have recently moved to Los Angeles. This city, which I love dearly, is an acquired taste and the first year or two here, especially when living with meager means, can be paradoxically lonely and claustrophobic, given how many people live in a place this sunny and spread out. Entrance’s great trick is to translate that alienation honestly and then use it as a believable base for stalker/slasher movie scares.
The film is also largely about the vulnerability of being a young woman alone in a city. Only the most daft straight male in the audience won’t leave feeling a little guilty for some look he once held too long or some advance he didn’t realize at first was unwanted.
The effect taken in whole is to establish such a believably immersive world of uneasiness and fear that when it spills over into exaggerated horror kills, there’s none of the post-modern distance of other contemporary films of the genre. It’s assaultive and upsetting in the best ways possible.
Hey David, I love reading your movie journals. Try to do more!