1951


Early_Summer_Criterion

The films of Yasujirō Ozu are noted for their character development and honesty. There was perhaps no greater filmmaker when it came to capturing minimalistic conversation and stories that simply exist in moments without pushing forward with too much action or movement. Ozu’s Noriko trilogy clearly emphasized his feminism, with the character of Noriko featured with a tremendous independent streak.

The second film in the Noriko trilogy is 1951’s Early Summer (the first film is Late Spring and the final picture is Tokyo Story). It is not essential to see the films in order, nor do they comprise a traditional trilogy as we might understand it in modern context. They do, however, feature the character of Noriko (Setsuko Hara).

Early Summer finds Noriko as a 28-year-old woman in danger of becoming an old maid. She is anything but concerned, however, and lives out her days with her friends enjoying food and expensive cake – it’s almost like a 1950s-era Japanese Sex and the City. Noriko works as a secretary in Tokyo and lives with the extended Mamiya family. Her parents, Shukichi (Ichirô Sugai) and Shige (Chieko Higashiyama) spend considerable time reflecting on their lives and the future.

Noriko’s brother, Koichi (Chishu Ryu), is a respected doctor. He lives in the home with his wife Fumiko (Kuniko Miyake) and their two young sons Minoru (Zen Murase) and Isamu (Isao Shirosawa). The film opens with a visit from an elderly uncle (Kokuten Kodo) and a reminder that Noriko is at that age where she should consider marriage. She is matched up with somebody by her boss (Shûji Sano) and her family begins to pressure her, albeit gently, to marry the proposed suitor.

Noriko is an independent spirit, though, and soon enough discovers feelings for a childhood friend (Hiroshi Nihonyanagi). After impulsively asked to marry this friend by his mother (Haruko Sugimura), Noriko accepts and discovers that real love was right in front of her all along. Her family is bewildered but ultimately supportive of her choice, largely perplexed and concerned by the idea of her husband-to-be’s child from a previous marriage. This is unheard of, but Noriko is confident that she can handle the situation.

Early Summer is named such not because it is the season in which the movie takes place but rather because it is the emotional climate of the characters. This is a joyful motion picture, for the most part, and it resonates with optimism and vibrancy. Ozu tells a tale of independence and spirit, utilizing the exciting character of Noriko and the sound of her laughter as a guidepost to human happiness. She follows her heart and so shall we.

Early Summer is quite a balancing act for Ozu. While many of today’s modern pictures feature ensemble casts, this ambitious 1951 effort features a whopping nineteen characters in significant roles. With sensitivity, Ozu places each character in a significant spot. There are those dealing with the new approaching world and the cultural shift, while others simply deal with raising belligerent youngsters. There are meditations on age and meditations on youth.

Instead of having us figure out where the characters are going to end up and how everything is going to connect, Ozu simply lets the movie breathe. It becomes about the trajectories of character emotion more than about outcome. It doesn’t matter so much who Noriko will marry; it matters IF she will marry, though. Ozu plays with that distinctive difference through the film’s divisions, setting it up in the first act with the visit of the uncle and pursuing the natural emotional course right through the remainder of the picture.

To see an Ozu picture is to breathe deeply. Nobody captures the ins and outs of life quite like him. With Early Summer, a story about marriage, age, roles, and family winds up existing on screen without pretence and without acting. These characters, given existence by talented performers, are real and compelling. The film is an unquestionable masterpiece.

9.9/10

A Streetcar Named Desire

A Streetcar Named Desire is a classic, without a doubt. This 1951 adaptation of the play of the same name by the brilliant Tennessee Williams packed a punch that no film before it had to offer at the time, causing censors to gather in an uproar and causing audiences to be mercilessly split over the content of the daring film. Directed by Elia Kazan, who also directed the original stage production, A Streetcar Named Desire features untouchable acting and a beautifully haunting script.

The film stars Vivien Leigh (Gone With the Wind, 21 Days) as Blanche DuBois, one of the most infamous film characters of all time. It also stars the wonderful Marlon Brando as Stanley Kowalski, the brutish husband of Stella Kowalski (Kim Hunter). Karl Malden, Nick Dennis and others also make up the cast. The film truly takes a lot of its strength from the impeccable performances, led by the astonishingly electric Vivien Leigh. Leigh’s performance is true textbook stuff, delivering monologues and long speeches with flair and panache and creating such an aura around the character of DuBois that one becomes lost in the film.

Brando is equally as electric, although Kowalski is arguably given a lot less to do than DuBois. Brando’s Stanley Kowalski is a brute and a bully, a true menace of a man that fights and smashes things to solve his problems. Stella Kowalski, as played by Kim Hunter, is a woman who is both afraid of what Stanley may do but also excited by what he may do next. She is caught in the crossfire of abuse and yet is turned on by it at the same time, creating an energy about her that must have certainly been controversial for the time and still raises eyebrows in ours.

The brilliant screenplay of the film received its fair share of revisions, thanks in large part to the Catholic League of Decency. Many of the references to homosexuality, for example, saw their instant removal. The director’s cut of the film was released in 1993 (which is the version I am reviewing) and it left the film as Kazan intended with all of the references and inferences intact. Part of the true importance of Streetcar is its constant grappling with censors and its constant content problems. It really was a trailblazer of a film and a lesser film would likely have floundered under those circumstances.

The film’s score is also of note. A Streetcar Named Desire was one of the first Hollywood films to not feature an overly manipulative score that led the audience into emotions during key scenes. Instead, Streetcar left that job up to the wonderful performances. Alex North’s score was composed of short sheets of music that actually were comprised of different character dynamics of the various performers. North worked with the psychological components of the players instead of with how the film wanted the audience to feel, thus developing real emotion through the score instead of forcing the issue. North’s score would be nominated for an Academy Award.

The depth of the film is what struck me as being incredible. Here we have the character of Blanche DuBois, a character that is devastatingly losing her mind right before our very eyes. Her decline is the driving force behind Streetcar, as is how much “help” she had in her descent to madness from Stanley. Did he push her or did she jump? The film leaves many unanswered questions, which was uncommon for Hollywood films of this magnitude to do at the time. Instead of the traditional happy ending, we are left with a plethora of questions and few answers. We are left wondering about Stella and whether or not her relationship with Stanley was really better before Blanche showed up. Was Blanche’s history really what she claimed or was that a part of her delusion? The film leaves many open-ended ideas for each of its characters, lovingly portraying them as incomplete human beings rather than set pieces for a grandiose production.

A Streetcar Named Desire is a wonderful and painful journey through the lives of three people in steamy New Orleans. Blanche DuBois, Stanley and Stella Kowalski and even poor Mitch Mitchell will forever be etched in our minds as remarkable characters with depth, darkness and just the right amount of light to make them eerily familiar to us. A Streetcar Named Desire is a classic in every sense of the word. Vivien Leigh glows and Marlon Brando smashes that light to bits.

9/10