Another quirk Ozu is known for is his use of what critic Roger Ebert (an enormous Ozu fan) calls “pillow shots.” In Japanese poetry, there is a common practice of using “pillow words;” extra words to pad out the line, make the meter work, or just to add a single evocative image. Ozu will occasionally pad his film with a shot of a skyline, a rooftop, a field, a train or boat drifting slowly in the background. Sometimes we see a room a few moments before someone enters, or remain in it a moment after they have left.
These are not establishing shots to tell us where the action is to take place, but mere quiet meditations of the world around the central action. The character of the world and the quiet and warm atmosphere of the air is just as important to the characters’ emotional states of being than the action and dialogue. It’s these “pillow shots” that allow us to more easily imbibe the film. Ozu is asking us to stop. To look. To slow down. The shots are beautiful. We sit and absorb the beauty, and then move to the next scene. By doing so, we can appreciate the rhythms he wants us to.
One defense of a slow-moving film that critics have is the word “deliberate.” “Deliberate” is too often a euphemism for “a mind-crushingly dull pace.” However, I must earnestly use the word “deliberate” for Ozu. He really is deliberately slowing us down. Really asking us to meditate rather than thrill. By the time we have reached the tragic end of Tokyo Story we are still in tears, because Ozu has perfectly led us down the correct path.
Tokyo Story is easily the best Yasujiro Ozu film, but this is not to say it is the only Ozu film that is worthwhile. Just as powerful and impressive are Late Spring, Floating Weeds, Early Summer, and the twee Good Morning. I Was Born, But… is also a masterpiece. He made his last film in 1962, and died the following year of cancer.
Each of these films indeed warrant their own essays, but if I were to write an extended piece on any of them, they would likely sound very similar to the one above. Ozu’s films all have the same mastery of craft, and similar themes of the trap of polite Japanese society, and the downfall of the family unit in post-war Japan. They are all brilliant in the same way. If you liked Tokyo Story, by all means, try any of these others. If you liked those, well, Ozu directed over 50 films.
Meditate. Allow yourself to slow down, and let one of the most brilliant uses of film become familiar to you.
I love Ozu, and, to be honest it took me a while to get there. It was after years of viewing films and studying craft in classes that I came to appreciate what he was doing. Literary critic Harold Bloom once pointed out that the best pleasures one can achieve from reading are the difficult ones; if you read a typical and unchallenging novel, you may be moved, but not changed. If you want to experience something truly amazing and moving, reach for the book you will have trouble getting through. By the end, the experience will have changed you, and you will be ready to take on something even more wonderful.
Ozu, I dare say, is the cinematic equivalent of this idea. The films are a challenge, but if you make it to the end of an Ozu film, you will have been to a new plane of cinematic art and emotional expression. Will you like it? Maybe. But it’s certainly worth a try.
Homework for the Week:
Give Ozu a try.
Witney Seibold is a featured contributor on the CraveOnline Film Channel, co-host of The B-Movies Podcast and co-star of The Trailer Hitch. You can read his weekly articles Trolling, Free Film School and The Series Project, and follow him on “Twitter” at @WitneySeibold, where he is slowly losing his mind. If you want to buy him a gift (and I know you do), you can visit his Amazon Wish List.
