240 Early Summer

[whaleallright]

it is easy to imagine he had an urge to play with techniques he found interesting.

Ozu did talk a fair bit about the American films he saw during (and shortly after) the war—he was particularly enamored of Ford and Wyler, no surprises there—but what strikes me is how little obvious influence there is in his late work from such exposure. To the extent that Ozu's late films track changes in Japanese culture in the postwar period, there are predictable references to Western stars, technologies, sports, fashions.... But his film style follows its own internal progression rather than any clear outside influence. This is especially notable because, at the beginnings of his career, Ozu was a real sponge—wearing the influence of American films on his sleeve.

[Michael Kerpan]

But his film style follows its own internal progression rather than any clear outside influence. This is especially notable because, at the beginnings of his career, Ozu was a real sponge—wearing the influence of American films on his sleeve.

But even in most of the earliest surviving films, Ozu's use of Hollywood techniques is highly selective and adapted to his own desires.

Returning to Early Summer, I think I can safely say there is no film I love MORE (though there are others I may love more or less as much). If it has flaws, I cannot see them (and wouldn't care about them even if I did).

[artfilmfan]

Returning to Early Summer, I think I can safely say there is no film I love MORE (though there are others I may love more or less as much). If it has flaws, I cannot see them (and wouldn't care about them even if I did).

Love conquers all.

[Michael Kerpan]

Love conquers all.

Well, it certainly helps...

[FilmSnob]

In a sense, Noriko is marrying into a family she loves -- not just marrying Yabe-san. This resonates for me. My wife found the warmth and demonstrativeness of my family a big positive.

I was recently discussing Early Summer with someone who did not enjoy the film. He kept comparing it to Late Spring, and he felt like the larger cast of characters and sprawling story was like a reverse editing process, diluting the powerful emotional resonance of Ozu's earlier film. I told him that if he decides to give Early Summer another chance, he should consider that it's an entirely different movie with entirely different intent-- all of the extra characters and subplots intentionally work to dilute the feeling of separation and loss at the end of the movie, giving it a happier, perhaps more poignant ending.

Late Spring is so much more of an intimate film, just father and daughter, and that intimacy creates quiet devastation. One feels like neither Noriko nor her father want what is happening. She marries a complete stranger and he will live the rest of his life all alone. Very likely they may regret their mutual sacrifices.

Early Summer, however, Ozu mixes the story like a master distiller, diluting those feelings of separation and loss of family. Yes, everyone is sad when their family breaks apart at the end of the film, especially the grandmother most of all, but nobody winds up alone. Noriko genuinely loves Yabe, even if she's not in love with him, although she may; she also loves his mother and his daughter. The grandparents have each other, husband and wife, and they will live with Uncle, a nice geriatric retirement community. Noriko's brother has his wife and kids.

Your comment about Noriko marrying into Yabe's entire family for happiness also made me consider Ozu's point that maybe, it's also the entirety of the Mamiya family and all of the characters in this picture that allow Noriko and her family to confidently move forward with their lives, optimistically hoping for a better future, and looking forward to one day when they might all see each other again.

[zedz]

In a sense, Noriko is marrying into a family she loves -- not just marrying Yabe-san. This resonates for me. My wife found the warmth and demonstrativeness of my family a big positive.

I was recently discussing Early Summer with someone who did not enjoy the film. He kept comparing it to Late Spring, and he felt like the larger cast of characters and sprawling story was like a reverse editing process, diluting the powerful emotional resonance of Ozu's earlier film. I told him that if he decides to give Early Summer another chance, he should consider that it's an entirely different movie with entirely different intent-- all of the extra characters and subplots intentionally work to dilute the feeling of separation and loss at the end of the movie, giving it a happier, perhaps more poignant ending.

I know this is a weird comparison, but Early Summer is for me kind of like an Altman film, where the sprawling cast suggests lots of different perspectives on the world of the film, all of which are valid, respected and well-rounded. Even the minor characters (and as I recall, there are a couple that don't even appear on-screen) are fully-formed. As you suggest, you leave the film with not only a very vivid picture of the central characters but a vivid picture of the whole community in which they reside.

[FilmSnob]

I know this is a weird comparison, but Early Summer is for me kind of like an Altman film, where the sprawling cast suggests lots of different perspectives on the world of the film, all of which are valid, respected and well-rounded. Even the minor characters (and as I recall, there are a couple that don't even appear on-screen) are fully-formed. As you suggest, you leave the film with not only a very vivid picture of the central characters but a vivid picture of the whole community in which they reside.

Yes, like an Altman movie. I think it's been described as mini-plot before. Ensemble films. Rather than the intimate devastation Ozu gave us in Late Spring, there is sadness in Early Summer, but mitigated by the shared communal experience.

[Michael Kerpan]

Ironically, the movie seems to ignore the fact that if Noriko were to make the kind of prestigious marriage her family would have preferred, this would equally have led to the reconfiguration of the family (no real difference from the result of her marriage to Yabe). I'm certain Ozu was aware, however

[therewillbeblus]

I know this is a weird comparison, but Early Summer is for me kind of like an Altman film, where the sprawling cast suggests lots of different perspectives on the world of the film, all of which are valid, respected and well-rounded. Even the minor characters (and as I recall, there are a couple that don't even appear on-screen) are fully-formed. As you suggest, you leave the film with not only a very vivid picture of the central characters but a vivid picture of the whole community in which they reside.

I like the Altman comparison, and in addition to the systemic examination across individual and communal levels, there's a cosmic connection to nature and spiritual principles that is oddly accessible when layered across the corporeal fragments Ozu grants us. I can understand the comment about other Ozu films holding a position of greater intimacy if one defines 'intimacy' by limited scope into a focused dynamic, but this is probably the Ozu film I find to be the most intimate in terms of how lyrical its harmony spreads between all things. Anyways I wrote up my thoughts in greater detail for the 50s project and seem to see eye to eye with many here, though I seemed to pay more attention to how Ozu tackled the significance of 'time' in a very humble and mature way that refused to judge his characters for setting expectations around this weight, and exposed all the instances where the weight is lifted whether we're conscious of it or not.

A revisit following a more full understanding of Ozu’s body of work elevates this to be one of his most transcendental works. Initiating the film with Ozu’s camera meditating on waves and birds before dropping the viewer in on a family engaging in the calm banalities of nature in homeostasis is powerfully comparable with the natural marvels outside. Of course change is just as natural, and this calm is temporary as social mores and inner conflict between the external superficial ideologies and the internal authentic consciences of emotional and love engage in a soft battle soon enough. This problem is rooted in a fear of time, the family afraid of Noriko’s future, and Noriko herself disrupted from her serenity in the present by these fears that cannot be ignored due to engrained importance of the family system. I admired this film a lot more this time for the continuous takes on present beauty, just seconds longer than expected to make a point, a way of showing how time is elastic in its perception even if it is impermanent in nature. Observing a bird inside with the sun shining through the window is a fleeting moment but can last for what feels like forever in just seconds, and yet the family spends a considerable amount of their time worrying about Noriko’s life years into the future. At the same time, even in many of these moments of “worrying” there are brief meditations on nature and these processes don’t snowball into the obsessions that take over characters and blind them to their peripheries, compared to some of Ozu’s other works (nor does it have this effect on Noriko, who isn’t as debilitated as the heroine of Late Spring, for example, and holds onto that optimistic assurance in step with her identity that keeps her in a serene space against the expectations of an Ozu protagonist).

There is a genuine question rather than pejorative judgment about the necessity to plan and think of the future (as well as adhering to cultural values that bind and contribute to harmony) vs. to only focus on the present or oneself, aside from even the more obvious cultural deconstruction. A question with no right or wrong answer, this film presents a complex array of issues corporeal and spiritual coexisting across perspectives on values as applied to both socialization and human identity, as well as abstract concepts like time. The inclusion of three generations of people is used better than most of Ozu’s works here as there is an establishment of harmony when little stress is impacting the system and we get more shots of members of all ages looking out of sunny windows, admiring the mystical mysteries of life and the physical ones of the skies, engaging lovingly with one another; and when an elder questions Noriko’s status of single, we feel no ill will and are empathetic to all parties equally, as if this initial statement that kicks off the plot is something shared rather than issued with emotional distance, as one could interpret actions depicted in something like Tokyo Story. There is love in both, and characters are blind to the other perspectives in each, but something here was assuring that the cosmic and social connectivity existed, is known, and is valuable on a spiritual level in spite of any social critique and individual reservations that come with the problems within the milieu of the film. Ozu doesn’t see these opposing presentations as contradictions or ironic, but as equal parts of the complicated pie of life, and this may be one of his most confident works about this idea that permeates his oeuvre, with a position of more universal acceptance in treating the details of the film as a spiritual microcosm. Even the seemingly random inclusions of the interactions between side characters that amount to no build in plotting lend themselves to this comprehensive composite of an emblem of life. This might be Ozu’s ‘fullest’ film, if measured by his own interests and ideas, and perhaps my favorite of his dramas.

[Note: Even though I’d classify this amongst his dramas, like many of those works this has a lot of humor, including one of the funniest moments in any Ozu film, when Noriko and Aya imitate an accent that translates to American ‘southern drawl.’ Also, and I’m aware that this is a contentious opinion, I don’t think he’s ended a film in a way that signified the transient nature of things better than here.]

[FilmSnob]

This gets my vote as the greatest film I've ever seen FWIW.

It's certainly one of the best and a very beautiful and nearly perfect film.

Returning to Early Summer, I think I can safely say there is no film I love MORE (though there are others I may love more or less as much). If it has flaws, I cannot see them (and wouldn't care about them even if I did).

I think there's one major flaw in Early Summer, if you can call it a major flaw, which obliquely brings us back to the discussion about camera movement. The scene at the beginning of Act 2, when Koichi examines the woman's heart. It's an entire scene where nothing else happens except she tells him exposition the audience already knows. For me, the momentum of the film just dies and stops right there. The effect is particularly pronounced because it comes right in the middle of the longest stretch of "apartment scenes" -- indoor scenes where people are just sitting around talking. (Note: the "apartment scene" term dates back to Japanese silent film era)

The other scenes are all beautifully crafted on their own, but yeah that one scene sticks out like a sore thumb to me in an otherwise perfect movie. Ozu was the master of elision, I find it curious why he didn't just elide Koichi learning about the suitor. I wonder if it was a case where he and Kogo Noda couldn't agree and so they did some sort of compromise. Ozu even bookends the scene with unnecessary camera movement -- perhaps an acknowledgement that the scene was not good for the pacing of the film.

[FilmSnob]

Btw, I found all of the other camera movements perfect, with the exception of the camera moving in on the broken loaf of bread. Seemed a bit gratuitous to me.

1.
Ozu moves the camera along the attendants at the theater, until it stops on the Mamiya family. This sets up the later shot when he moves the camera on the empty theater.

2.
After Noriko's boss proposes she marry the suitor, setting the plot in motion, Ozu moves the camera on the empty room as she leaves, and then on the empty theater.
This pays off the earlier shot and cinematically demonstrates mono-no-aware in a most beautiful way; foreshadowing that Noriko will one day be gone too. As her proposed marriage is now the focus of the film.

3.
The unnecessarily camera movements starting and ending the scene at Koichi's office. An attempt to smooth over a really, really poorly designed scene in an otherwise outstanding movie.

4.
The camera moves in on the loaf of bread. I find this gratuitous, but that might be nitpicking.
Ozu immediately cuts to the camera following the little boys as they walk along the seawall. This camera movement I do love as it enhances the pacing of the film.
I've found that Ozu loves to move the camera after a dramatic fight or outburst of emotion. There was a similar instance after Noriko and her dad argued in Late Spring.

5.
The camera moves backwards as Noriko and Yabe walk towards it, on their way to the cafe. I think this is a case of Ozu saving his camera movement for the most important scenes in the movie
Obviously, the scene that follows is the one where Yabe tells her about the gift of wheat from her brother, and she realizes her feelings about him.
This camera movement may also be a set-up for the next one...

6.
Ozu again moves the camera backwards as Noriko and Aya walk towards it, a very playful shot where he teases their peeping on the suitor and Noriko's boss, but doesn't deliver.
Yabe was shown with Noriko, but not the suitor, with the same type of shot.
Ozu then used the camera movement as a transition into the next scene back at the Mamiya home.

7.
The famous crane shot of Noriko and Fumiko climbing the dunes at the sea. Again, camera movement reserved for the emotional climax of the film.
Ozu's only crane shot in his extant oeuvre doesn't end with the camera above them either-- it's level with the women when it stops moving!
One of the finest shots in all of cinema.

8.
Tracking shot on Noriko and Fumiko walking side-by-side at the beach.
What I love about this scene is that Noriko takes action, and Fumiko, the older sister, follows her lead. Noriko sits down, and Fumiko sits down after her.
Noriko runs down to the beach and calls for Fumiko to come down with her. Fumiko follows.

9.
The field of wheat. Ethereal movement, given the symbolism of wheat in the film, for my money it just replenishes the soul and is the greatest closing shot in all of cinematic history.

[Michael Kerpan]

I've been to the beach where that scene was shot (and stayed at Ozu's regular inn near that beach -- and even slept in "his" room). Alas, things no longer look quite the same at the beach. Still, it was pretty exciting to be there. The inn, on the other hand, is still pretty old-fashioned looking.

[Jack Phillips]

This gets my vote as the greatest film I've ever seen FWIW.

It's certainly one of the best and a very beautiful and nearly perfect film.

Returning to Early Summer, I think I can safely say there is no film I love MORE (though there are others I may love more or less as much). If it has flaws, I cannot see them (and wouldn't care about them even if I did).

I think there's one major flaw in Early Summer, if you can call it a major flaw, which obliquely brings us back to the discussion about camera movement. The scene at the beginning of Act 2, when Koichi examines the woman's heart. It's an entire scene where nothing else happens except she tells him exposition the audience already knows.

We are told several things we didn't already know: 1.He is "a young executive at Matsukawa Trading," 2. He is a man with an excellent reputation; everyone speaks highly of him. 3.He is clever. 4 He comes "from an old family in Zentsuji in Shikoku" where the ancient family home has been maintained to this day. Until now we knew only that the man had been in Calcutta and was a good golfer and that Noriko's boss thought he would make a good match. But the man is the boss's friend, and the boss can't be considered objective. Now we are getting someone else's (perhaps) more objective perspective. At least, the perspective is different, but it helps to reinforce the fact that the guy is not just a good catch, but, on paper at least, ideal. It is important that the audience knows that the guy is the genuine article, and not being misrepresented by people trying to get Noriko married off. This helps us to understand Noriko, who doesn't necessarily value the socially acceptable traits in a partner that others ordinarily do. It gives us some idea of what she's giving up in order to make the match she finally chooses.

The other thing that makes the scene worth viewing is its comic aspect. A suitor the brother heretofore knew nothing about is revealed, and the person revealing it is someone he's never met before. Indeed, the woman has so much info it's as if she'd already gotten a detective's report back herself. I find the scene quite funny and wouldn't want to give it up.

[whaleallright]

I always get the feeling that Noriko has no interest at all in the proposed suitor and to the extent she lets people blab on about him, she's poltely humoring them. I do think she respects the enjoinments of her family and feels bad disappointing or frustrating them, but never to the pont of seriously considering the suitor. At least that's my impression!

[Michael Kerpan]

whaleallright -- I think you are correct.

I suspect Noriko was as obstinate as Setsuko in Green Tea on the issue of being pushed into an unwanted marriage meeting.