• 大阪の宿 (An Inn in Osaka)

9/7/18 (Thurs)

A 1954 film by Heinosuke Gosho set in contemporary Osaka. An employee named Mr Mita, insurance worker by day and writer by night, is transferred from Tokyo to Osaka after striking his superior, saved from outright dismissal only by his family’s history in the firm. He finds lodgings in a cheap riverside inn and starts to build a new life. He finds himself in a vastly different environment than the world he left behind, as we gather from the constant references by others to his Tokyo roots (Edokko) and his significantly reduced circumstances. He gets to know the workers and residents of the hotel and assorted others, all of whom are struggling with money issues. Poverty has forced the characters into prostitution, stealing, abandonment of long-held principles, suicide and general despair: one hotel worker Otsugi works to the bone to support a small son back in her village who she is never able to see, another worker is supporting a lazy and jobless husband, a geisha has neither illusions about the future nor any alternative, the dirt-poor Omitsu stoops to sleeping with a disgusting inn resident for cash in a failed attempt to save her dying father, the Scrooge-like hotel owner is forced to swallow her pride and convert her inn basically into a brothel (after ironically berating Omitsu for soiling the inn’s reputation by sleeping with a resident). The only happy person is a young worker who seems content to sleep with customers, ambitious to move up and on however she can – she puts the move unsuccessfully on Mita at one point. Even Mita’s successful friend, whose father started his company, quits in disgust at the company’s use of money for select investors rather than the workers.

Mita seems curiously more like an observer than a participant (reminded me of Bobby in the musical Company). His detached temperament makes him seem distant from the people around him, including the geisha who is obviously in love with him. Frustrated, she likens him to a star looking down from above – and that’s not intended as a compliment. The only person he takes an interest in is a nicely dressed woman that he sees on the streets from time to time, a safely distant object of affection (who turns out to be his friend’s daughter). His passivity is frustrating: it is not clear why he rejects the geisha (does he look down on her?), and he is callously blank when Omitsu comes to return the money for a counterfeit blanket that she mistakenly sold him, basically absorbing the loss despite her desolate circumstances. (He tries later to give her back the money, but she accuses him to his shock, not unjustifiably, of self-righteousness.) He does take the staff out for dinner in a rare treat for them, so he is not entirely unkind or unfeeling. And he finally comes alive at the end when he confronts his boss over a colleague’s suicide, resulting in his transfer back to Tokyo and separation from his hard-earned friends. But it was frustrating to watch his non-reaction to many events. Maybe we’re supposed to take that as a learning curve. It only works in the wonderfully paced scene where he catches the desperate Orika in his room seemingly attempting to pilfer his money (she was actually putting it back after a moment of weakness); his blank stare at her shattered face and his wordless attempt to pass her the would-be-stolen money – which she refuses – is highly effective here.

The penultimate scene, a beautifully realized farewell dinner for Mita, is extremely poignant. He says, “We are all different, but we eat from the same dish… I’m glad to be a part of this.” Though all are despondent for their own reasons, they try to make the best of things among friends, giving a sense that life will go on somehow. Mita remarks, “Let’s have the dignity to laugh at our own unhappiness.” He has finally come to realize that it is the kindness of real people around him that matters.

There’s one empty seat at the party: the direly poor Omitsu. The final scene shows why – she is working steadily in a scrap yard as Mita’s train passes on its way back to Tokyo, unable or unwilling to take time off even to share a meal. She had said after her father’s death, “I want to live”, and we see here that she means it. The ending is almost optimistic in spite of itself. Donald Richie has apparently called the film “one of the very best of the indictments of postwar Japan”, but I’m not sure what he wanted “Japan” to do at this point given the nation’s struggles in the aftermath of a devastating (and self-inflicted) war. I would have thought it’s an indictment of prewar Japan, whose actions are what led to this dismal situation in the first place.

Gosho has a superb feel for his surroundings in the hotel rooms, corridors, neighborhood alleyways and elsewhere. He has a sharp eye for individual objects that truly are worth a thousand words: a French watch that Mita had inherited from his grandfather and is now forced to pawn; a crayon drawing of cow sent to a servant by her child, upon which she looks with unbearable longing (great performance); the portrait of the late husband to which the crotchety hotel owner apologizes, revealing that she too has her troubles; the fake blanket, for which the embarrassed seller will have to bear a crippling loss; the new blanket left by the geisha, hinting at her unrequited feelings for Mita.

The mood overall is atmospheric, and the occasional humor is mostly unforced and organic (other than some clumsy slapstick, mainly with the hotel owner’s sloppy brother). There is some lazy exposition via dialogue that would be better seen than heard. But the characters are distinctive and credible, and the director makes us care about them, a notable achievement for such a large cast.

The acting was outstanding all around, with astonishing performances by Otowa Nobuko as the geisha (Onibaba), Anzai Kyoko as Omitsu, Kawasaki Hiroko as Otsugi and Mito Mitsuko at Orika. I did have reservations about Sano Shuji (Shu-u) as Mita, but I suppose he did what he could with an inert role. I’m always impressed with the level of acting in these postwar Japanese films, and this is up there with best.

A very fine film. I noticed that it came out the same year as Mizoguchi’s Sansho the Bailiff, Kurosawa’s The Seven Samurai, Mizoguchi’s Chikamatsu Story, Naruse’s Late Chrysanthemums and Kinoshita’s Twenty-Four Eyes. Oh, and Godzilla. What a year!!