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I would disagree and suggest that BFI did not promote your essay enough to ensure the set's success! (I'm teasing both you and the BFI, but you have been a great introduction to Japanese filmmakers for me, and I'm sure many others!)

Michael Kerpan wrote:

AidanKing wrote:Unfortunately, I suppose at this point it's unlikely that the BFI is going to release the remaining films.

Because I wrote one of the essays for the now-long-ago latest BFI Ozu set, I feel vaguely responsible for (somehow) killing the series off.

Perhaps you haven't replenished the sake offering at your home Ozu shrine lately? Please check to make sure of continued availability.

Michael Kerpan wrote:

AidanKing wrote:Unfortunately, I suppose at this point it's unlikely that the BFI is going to release the remaining films.

Because I wrote one of the essays for the now-long-ago latest BFI Ozu set, I feel vaguely responsible for (somehow) killing the series off.

I turned down the chance to write one of the essays, on the grounds of not being sufficiently well up on Ozu.

So it's probably my fault.

JacquesQ wrote:So here's the link :
http://www.filedropper.com/ozudvdbr" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;
It will remain active for 30 days, and 30 more days every time someone downloads it. If this forum hardly sends anyone there and the link expires (not too unlikely since nobody seems to come here any more...), let me know by PM, I will renew it (and possibly update the file if necessary).

Can you please reupload this sheet?

It is probably stated somewhere, so excuse me for asking, but I'm a bit confused about the Shochiku remasters. As far as I can see they are:

1949: Late Spring
1951: Early Summer
1953: Tokyo Story

Colour:
1958: Equinox Flower
1959: Good Morning
1960: Late Autumn
1962: An Autumn Afternoon

I can understand that there is some weird tinting on the release of Tokyo Story, which Criterion then corrected for their release (which I've bought), but other than that, then these should be definitive releases? But then there are some sound issues with Late Spring and Early Summer.

Another question: Are the colour releases the same as the BFI's or are they newer? Is the master of An Autumn Afternoon similar to the one Criterion released (which looks a but off, colour-wise)?

The BFI colour releases look pretty strong, so if the Shochiku releases are remasters where the colouring have been messed up, then I guess I should just hold on to the BFI's?

Michael Kerpan wrote:Because I wrote one of the essays for the now-long-ago latest BFI Ozu set, I feel vaguely responsible for (somehow) killing the series off.

I found all the essays in the Ozu collection booklets to be really enjoyable and illuminating, even if I didn't completely agree with all the views expressed. For example, I thought Tony Rayns underplayed the quality of the films in the melodramas collection, particularly Tokyo Twilight.

I hope that there is still a possibility of the remaining films being released by the BFI.

That may depend on which Michael is really at fault (and hence will pick up the expense on the sake).

I have a feeling that no one (on either side of the Atlantic) plans to release English-subtitled versions of the last orphaned Ozu films.

Need quick resolution on which Michael, on which side of the Atlantic, is really at fault so that those films will get a chance of being released with good subs.

The producer who was shepherding the Ozu series through BFI left -- I'm not aware of whether she went off to a better job or whether something else happened (and, even if I did know, I probably couldn't say). In any event, it appears that there was no one else there who picked up the task of seeing the series through to its end (or maybe some higher level person said "enough is enough").

Last time I asked the BFI, they said no further plans for Ozu titles, or Japanese cinema in general (save for one specific filmmaker they're flirting with).

At this point, I'm hoping Criterion or Arrow will have a stab at them. For example, an Arrow Academy box set would be appropriate, but I suspect only if there were some of his more notorious films up for grabs too, and those will either still be with BFI or in Criterion UK's line of sight.

Michael Kerpan wrote:The producer who was shepherding the Ozu series through BFI left -- I'm not aware of whether she went off to a better job or whether something else happened (and, even if I did know, I probably couldn't say). In any event, it appears that there was no one else there who picked up the task of seeing the series through to its end (or maybe some higher level person said "enough is enough").

Some of the remaining films (Record of a Tenement Gentleman, Flavor of Green Tea over Rice, Tokyo Inn) are very fine films. It's sad if they become orphans.

“Enough Is Enough”!
That might be the last piece of the puzzle that we need to understand the reason that the series got terminated.
Based on postings in this thread, here’s what might have happened:

- Key players: “higher level person” (the boss), the series producer, and two Michaels.
- Supporting cast: one essay assignment and one very big pond named Atlantic.
- Other known fact(s): the first print of the blu-ray disc of An Autumn Afternoon erroneously used a small-size video file that led to the image not having much improvement over the DVD.

We can guess that the boss was probably very upset already after the problem with the first print of An Autumn Afternoon blu-ray disc.
So, what if the boss had suggested to the series producer to get an essay contribution from MichaelB who punted the assignment, which might have bounced off the office door of the boss and landed back on the desk of the series producer who, having been made aware of the existence of another Michael who is very knowledgeable with all Ozu matters, zipped the assignment across the pond and it landed on MichaelK’s desk who then worked on it feverishly and upon completion of it, zipped it back across the pond to the series producer who then happily and gratefully took it to the booklet producing department. The DVD set was released on time and everyone was happy… until the boss took a copy of the booklet home, read the essay and enjoyed it tremendously and then noticed that the essay was credited to MichaelK and not MichaelB, and upon thinking that an error was made … again … and then declared “Enough is Enough”!!! So ended the series.

The UK Michael was not the person who was too busy to take on the project (and who kindly suggested me as an alternative - for good or for ill).

Michael Kerpan wrote:The UK Michael was not the person who was too busy to take on the project (and who kindly suggested me as an alternative - for good or for ill).

I honestly can't remember which title I was offered, and it may have been a generic "would you like to write something for this series?" But I do recall that it wasn't so much a case of me being busy (I very very rarely turn work down) as the fact that I genuinely didn't think I'd be able to produce something up to the same standard as existing essays, written by bona fide Ozu experts (which I'm not).

Maybe I was the third choice.

I still like my essay, even if it did kill off the series (which I doubt -- I suspect there just weren't enough buyers for these "obscure" Ozu titles).

Or the accidental choice? :-k I think your essay is universally liked. It's just that ... hint, hint ... "Enough Is Enough!"

I've been going back and forth between the BD's for An Autumn Afternoon and honestly, I think I prefer the BFI disc. The Criterion should have been a clear winner - a new 2k restoration done off a 4k scan, plus a higher bitrate in the encode - but there's something about the way the black levels and detail are rendered that's not quite right. (To be fair, I don't think this is their doing, it looks like they used the same exact master on Shochiku's Japanese Blu-Ray.)

The blacks often look like they've been crushed ever so slightly - BFI never does. Fine details like the netting in the golf scene don't look great (especially where the netting isn't so thick), but they look better on the BFI disc.

The color will remain controversial, but the tone aside, I prefer the saturation levels on the BFI disc - Shochiku seems to prefer robust color presentations, but it almost looks too garish to me.

I think we're going to see a similar difference in Good Morning once Criterion's edition comes out.

Can't really say I agree here. I've seen the BFI BD at home but the new new restoration in theaters. The BFI BD looks dated as hell, notably very sharpened, while the new restoration looked marvelous in theaters.

I'm sure it does, but I never saw the restoration in the theaters, I only have what they encoded on a BD to go by. The grain texture is an improvement - always is when you're working off a 4k scan vs. an HD one - but that's not everything. The black levels really bother me more and more - there's no way they're supposed to be crushed like that.

Michael Kerpan wrote:Finally got around to starting the set. The fragments of Straightforward Boy are a hoot. And I knew I loved Walk Cheerfully, but I had forgotten just how MUCH I love this remarkably visually playful (and charming) film.

I just started watching all early Ozu films. A Straightforward Boy did not work for me at all. After the opening title card, I didn't laugh once. Walk Cheerfully however was a beautiful, thoroughly enjoyable and thoroughly likeable film. I almost cried during the opening dolly shot, and I almost cried again during the last scenes, for two entirely different reasons.

Walk Cheerfully is one of those Ozu silents that has a lot of "implied sound track" -- which is sometimes drowned out by any musical score that might be applied.

I've now seen Tokyo Story, Late Spring, and everything which survives up to I Flunked, But ... I wrote a review for Walk Cheerfully, an early Ozu silent film I very much enjoyed.

Thank you Criterion, FilmStruck, BFI, everyone who helped to make these fragile films available to distant foreigners like me!

Walk Cheerfully (1930)



Kenji Koyama, a.k.a Ken the Knife, leads a small-time band of crooks and thugs in this highly stylized, romantic and unabashedly sentimental gangster film. The story crafted by Hiroshi Shimizu, a fellow director and Ozu's good friend, plays out as the very definition of a morality tale: the title was inspired by Quaker founder George Fox's famous quote: "Walk cheerfully over the world answering that of God in everyone, that your carriage and your life may preach among all sorts of peoples, and to them...whereby in them you may be a blessing, and make the witness of God in them to bless you."

In other words, Ken has a crisis of conscience. He's a feared boxer who commands criminal respect through superior intellect and brute force. He and his gang find creative ways to rob people-- and if necessary-- beat them up. Eventually, he falls in love with one of his targets, a kind and beautiful "good" girl named Yasue, who is thought to be rich, but turns out her family doesn't have any money at all. They develop a romance, his girlfriend gets jealous, etc. but when Yasue finds out about Ken's life of crime, she refuses to see him again. Point blank.

Can "The Knife" escape his past and become a changed man? Does he really want to? You'll have to watch the movie and find out.

Personally, I loved this film.

There will undoubtedly be some critics out there who call it mindless, sentimental rubbish, or "not essential Ozu". It's a facsimile film made by a 26 year old man who was (at that age) infatuated with Western culture, particularly Hollywood American culture. The characters lack all but the most obvious depth. The world of the story is not realistic -- this is pure cinematic pastiche.

The decor of Walk Cheerfully, the automobiles, buildings, typewriters, golf players, trumpets, hotels, original posters of foreign films and of boxing. guns, phonographs, English scribblings on the wall, the humorous greetings inspired by Harold Lloyd's The Freshman (1925) etc, constituted an "American-like" world, far from the Japanese reality and probably far from any reality in 1930.

Walk Cheerfully is not The Godfather. It's not a character study. There's a scene where Ken displays his intellectual superiority -- not by giving sage advice like "keep your friends close, but your enemies closer" -- but by simply telling everyone to calm down, he needs time to think. It's that basic sometimes, and yet it works. It's fun. The film never tries for more than it can handle.

(Hiroko Kawasaki, Nobuko Matsuzono, and Minoru Takada in Walk Cheerfully)




The acting performances range from serviceable to pretty good. Minoru Takada presents a likeable, believable Kenji the Knife, except for the parts where he's asked to show greater range, and then you can see him struggle. Hiroko Kawasaki makes a fine Yasue, the good girl he falls in love with. I was particularly impressed with her performance in this scene near the end of the film:




More often than not, Ken's friend Hisao Yoshitani, playing Senko, steals the show. You can even call this a tearjerker buddy comedy at times.

(Minoru Takada and Hisao Yoshitani in Walk Cheerfully)




There were two times I got emotional watching this picture, and for two entirely different reasons. The first was during the opening sequence, when Ozu uses a very stylish dolly shot as the camera moves back, revealing one car neatly after another, until it stops, and then a mob starts chasing a man in the opposite direction. You just know after watching that, you are in the hands of a great filmmaker. When the plot in the middle does get occasionally thin at times, Ozu compensates with incredible visual storytelling -- far from the static domestic shots and tatami floor angles he's famous for later in his career, Walk Cheerfully contains a myriad of dolly shots, tracking shots, high angles, low angles, zooms (both in and out), fades, all of it, combined with artful storytelling that tricked me (but in delightful ways) on more than a few occasions. While not perfect and at times gratuitous or even insecure, this film nevertheless has a way of disarming you, keeping you guessing, and before you know it you really care for the characters, so that the overly emotional ending feels just right. All the tears and smiles felt earned.

Altogether, Walk Cheerfully was a thoroughly likeable, enjoyable, kindhearted film. It's not an unqualified masterpiece like Tokyo Story or Late Spring, but it's been described as Ozu's most "fun" film and can be appreciated as much lighter fare.

RECOMMENDED

Perhaps Lady and the Beard is Ozu's most purely humorous film (closest to slapstick farce), at least of the complete surviving films. But Walk Cheerfully is (I think) the most purely visually playful. It really is a delight, for one reason or another, from start to finish.

I haven't watched The Lady and the Beard yet, but it's coming up soon. Just doing the chronological thing right now and watched I Flunked, But ... last night. Felt much more like a dull sitcom than a film to me. It was nice to see Kinuyo Tanaka and the Tokkan Kozô kid, but otherwise I just didn't see much humor.

Not that Ozu isn't capable of being funny, because I've found all kinds of humor in Days of Youth, Walk Cheerfully, as well as both Late Spring and Tokyo Story. But some of these other early nonsense comedies have really missed the mark for me.

I think the nonsense comedies have a level of silliness inspired by American slapstick comedies (some of them quite forgotten now -- as well as classics like Lloyd and Chaplin) that either don't work or require one to adopt a more old-fashioned mindset.