• 野菊の如き君なりき (Like a Wild Chrysanthemum), 3/21/18 (Wed)

A melancholic 1955 film of young love by Kinoshita Keisuke, director of the uber-sentimental smash Twenty-Four Eyes. Tamiko has been raised by her cousin Masao’s family, and the two are smitten. Their relationship scandalizes their tiny village, not only because they are cousins but because she is two years older, apparently a no-no in those days. They are oblivious to the talk in the neighborhood and even their own household, but society proves a cruel mistress. Masao’s sister is particularly nasty to the girl in the belief that she is holding the boy back, with jealousy playing a part as well. She convinces the mother, who is worried for her son’s future, to send him off to boarding school sooner than planned for his own good in what amounts to an enforced separation from his love. (There’s no question of school for Tamiko, of course, whose main job is to become a good wife.) He reluctantly agrees, but assures Tamiko that he will be back.

While he is away, the increasingly lonely Tamiko comes under heavy pressure from the family to give up on the boy. They convince her that she is a detriment to his future and ultimately succeed in marrying her off to a wealthy heir. She goes through the motions emptily but, despairing of ever seeing Masao again, finally takes matters into her own hands. In a superbly directed finale, the boy is devastated to learn the truth, and the family realizes too late the unintended consequences of their good intentions.

The unhurried pace and outstanding cinematography paint a deeply felt portrait of the rural past. The film is presented in flashback mode as a reminiscence by Masao, now revisiting his old village as a 73-year old (played by the always excellent Chishu Ryu). This rather lightens the tragedy, giving the proceedings a more elegiac tone. Still, the sentiment is not overdone; all emotions feel real. The performances were wonderful all around, especially Sugimura Haruko as the mother trying only to do what she deems best for the children, too tied to convention to understand the needs of the heart over social duty. Both kids were very good.

The scenes from the past as narrated by the older Masao are presented in an oval frame as in silent films, which becomes extremely irritating as it accounts for 90% of the movie. It is self-consciously dreamy, totally unnecessary given the highly evocative camerawork. Also, the occasional poems about memory and loss recited by the older Masao, while nice enough individually, become wearing after the first few. Poetry in film should be seen, not heard; the reverential narration of the verses in particular flattens the emotions, crossing the boundary from sentiment to sentimentality. The movie would greatly benefit from stripping those elements away and just showing the beautifully presented story as is. Still, the expert handling of the story and the strong performances make this a film very much worth seeing.

Incidentally, the “wild” in the English title (also known more sappily as You Were Like a Wild Chrysanthemum, which gives a bit too much away) should not be misconstrued; the word in Japanese is closer to “natural” (literally, “field chrysanthemum”), reflecting the innocent feelings of the two youngsters. It works in Japanese, anyway.