• 東京の宿 (An Inn in Tokyo)

2/20/21 (Sat)

A superior film. Ozu’s 1935 work is his last surviving silent film, made well into the sound era. The jobless Kihachi (a wonderful Sakamoto Takeshi) wanders around a barren landscape with his two young sons looking for work, often having to choose between dinner and shelter. The kids help out by catching dogs and turning them into the pound for a small reward. Kihachi eventually runs into an old friend (Iida Choko, also terrific) who helps find him a job. Kihachi then runs into a woman he had met at the shelter, who has a young daughter. He starts falling for the woman and helping as best he can. When the daughter becomes sick, he turns to stealing to help. In the end, he asks the old friend to take care of the children as he prepares to turn himself in. The friend is devastated at not lending him money earlier, not realizing his noble intentions. We see him at the end walking in the empty landscape, presumably toward the police.

Superb acting all around, including the children. The cast was small, with mere glimpses of other people here and there. There is a heartbreaking scene when the older kid, trying to pep up his dad, offers him imaginary sake, which the father pretends to drink; he then offers his boys imaginary rice. Even as they laugh, the sight of them enjoying the imaginary food that they don’t have is highly moving. The ending is also affecting when Kihachi asks his friend to watch his kids while he’s in prison, leaving them without a father as well as a mother (who has long away run away for an unspecified reason). The father’s love for his kids, his empathy for the young woman and her sick child, his shame at asking the old friend for one last favor – a beautifully drawn portrait of a deeply feeling person who just can’t get a break.

Ozu’s detached handling never lets this fall into melodrama (though the scene in the hospital with the sick child comes close). The landscape, which was apparently somewhere in shitamachi, was superbly rendered with factories, telegraph poles, bleak vegetation and such. I expected the tramps from Godot to make an entrance. Everywhere they went seemed to be the same place. The scene was open, but the situation was not.

We want Kihachi to be happy, but Ozu lets the chips fall where they may. This is often compared to Bicycle Thieves and other Italian neorealist films of a decade later, which may or not be true, but the understated treatment of the story and characters here is exceptionally powerful. I don’t know what sound would have added. The dialogue cards were nicely limited; the Japanese aren’t always the most vocal people anyway, and everything that needed to be said was said. One of the greatest silent films I’ve ever seen. Deserves to be much better known.