a voice of the many
by Douglas Messerli
Kōgo Noda (scenario, based on an adaptation by Komatsu Kitmura), Yasujirō Ozu (director), 東京の合唱 (Tokyo no gassho) (Tokyo Chorus) / 1931
Appearing in Japan
in 1931, the silent film by Yasujirō Ozu, Tokyo Chorus, was unavailable
in the US until 1982, and was released by Criterion only in 1928.
Although, clearly this early comedy is not
one of Ozu’s great works, it nicely dovetails with his later concerns about
family life and the relationship of father to son, an issue which would haunt
Ozu’s films. And like Ozu’s later works, much of the action is shown from the
perspective of its hero trying to calmly sit on a tami mat to receive his
simple tear or dinner. Ozu’s works are filled with eating scenes, and his 1931
work is no exception, as its late scenes occur in a small restaurant, owned by
the former drill commander at the military academy where Omura Sensei (Tatsuo
Saito) tortured the move’s hero, Shinji Okajima (Tokihiko Okada).
The very first scene of this film shows the gangly military boys under his command, generally goofing off between maneuvers, with one of their members arriving very late. The narrative then fast-forwards to a scene in the Okajima household wherein his son and daughter are playing, the son, in particular, dissatisfied with his current toy of a ball. He wants a bicycle like all of his classmates have, and needles his father to get him one, which forces Okajima—now a poor insurance worker—to have the boy ask his mother, a stay-at-home woman, Sugako (Emiko Yagumo), who is nursing yet a younger child.
On this particular day, Okajima is
expecting a bonus, and with his wife’s blessing will spend it to buy the
bicycle, a small trinket for his daughter, and a new necktie for himself.
Bonuses are handed out, as each clerk
tries to discover the figures without their fellow clerks knowing the amount, a
stock comic scene that includes several trips to the bathroom, one clerk losing
his letter in the urinal.
With the news of salary bonuses, however,
also comes the information that one, more elderly employee, Rou-Shain Yamada
(Takeshi Sakamoto) has just been fired, evidently for selling two policies to
customers who soon after died, one of an accident, the other of an illness.
Struck with the unfairness of the situation, Okajima demands his fellow colleagues
speak up for their elderly co-worker. Yet none of them is willing to stand up
to their boss, and when Okajima bravely attempts to do so, he is summarily
fired, his bonus revoked.
When Okajima’s daughter suddenly grows
ill, the family unable to pay for the required hospital visit, Okajima secretly
sells his wife’s beautiful kimonos. The gentle scene in which Ozu portrays her
sadness (an incident which brings her to tears) is quickly balanced with her
and her husband’s recognition that to save the child’s life they have no other
choice.
Further indignations greet Okajima and his
family when other children refuse to play with their son, his wife must make
due with meagre dinners, and the formerly young and good-looking Okajima is
thrown into the world of Tokyo’s thousands of unemployed. At one point, having
met up by accident with his old military tormentor, Sensei, he is forced to
carry banners announcing the existence of the elder’s restaurant.
Somewhat like the 1950s Hollywood film, White
Christmas, Ozu’s movie invokes Okajima’s former classmates to band together
to help save their former officer’s investment by celebrating a large dinner
party in the small restaurant and each paying their share, with the formerly
late arrival again arriving long after all the others. The event is a great
success, during which Sensei receives a message that, through his ministrations,
Okajima has been assigned to teach English at a school in another prefecture.
Although it is clear that Sugako and
Okajima are not exactly happy to leave Toko, they so in good spirits, promising
to return to Tokyo when the can. And so Ozu’s “comic” film shifts gradually
into a darker film where, as in so many of his works, the loving characters
must face up to the difficulties pre-World War II Japan was facing, along with
the realities of keeping their families out of harm’s way.
Ozu’s characters generally sacrifice and
even suffer in order to maintain a kind of familial status quo which often
works against them escaping the harsh realities of the culture at large. Yet
their actions help to make his films—despite their often assertive belief in
Japanese cultural traditions—something to which we can all relate, particularly
those who, over the generations, have come to the US and other countries to
make a better life, no matter how difficult their own experiences, for their
children. In order to succeed, Ozu seems to reiterate time and again in his
films, one must sadly give up one’s youthful dreams.
Los Angeles,
Halloween, 2016
Reprinted from World
Cinema Review (October 2016).




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