The End of the Summer

 The End of the Summer (1961) is a very late film directed by the great Yasujiro Ozu.  Ozu's post-War films are all exquisitely designed and emotionally restrained domestic comedies -- although the edge between comedy and tragedy is razor-thin in these pictures.  The End of the Summer is literally represented -- we see people in the Tokyo suburbs suffering through a devilishly hot spell -- the women all stroll around under white parasols and the everyone has fans that they wave incessantly in  front of their chests.  The movie, about 105 minutes long, is uncharacteristically complex and, even, sprawling for Ozu.  It has a complicated plot that I had to diagram as the picture proceeded.  There are many characters and, in one amusing scene, two salary-men working on accounts at a Sake brewery owned by the patriarch of the family question some of the family ties shown in the movie and admit that they can't quite figure out how some of the characters are related.  Ozu's narrative style, very unassuming and reticent, adds to the confusion -- for the first thirty minutes, it's very unclear what the movie is about or how the characters are connected to one another.  The film is shot in carefully managed, somewhat monochromatic technicolor and it's a gorgeous thing to behold -- figures are posed in complex cubist boxes; this is how the Japanese interiors of old wood and paper screens appear in this movie.  Ozu shoots most of the domestic scenes from low angles.  Of equal importance to his story are the so-called "empty frames" -- scenes in which no one appears:  for instance the Sake brewery is shown as an ancient, weathered wall against which are stacked large tubs, an image that creates a formal geometry worthy of Georges Braque, a melange of wood textures, pebbled walkways, and the big round tubs that is singularly beautiful.  In the interior shots, Ozu uses a telephoto to compress rooms into planar surfaces consisting of boxes within boxes.  There are beautiful landscapes as well and many shots contrast old Japan, with its wooden pagoda towers and shrines, with modern light fixtures or utility poles, the incessant chirring of insects in late summer presented with an undertone of commuter trains rumbling to and fro.

At first, the story seems to be about rather inept efforts to find a suitable husband for a widowed woman.  The woman appears to be in her late thirties and has two sons.  She reluctantly meets a suitor in a bar.  The rendezvous is supervised by her rotund and jolly uncle who is far more concerned about her loneliness and future than she seems to be.  The woman, whose name is Noriko, works at an American-style art gallery.  Her suitor, who a bit of a dolt but a nice man, asks her to see if he can find him a nice picture of cows -- he's from the country and collects memorabilia.  Needless to say, Noriko isn't impressed with the man.  The picture then shows us the Sake brewery that is managed by an old man named Mr. Kohayagawa (Mr. K for short).  The old man, who is also a merry sort, has been sneaking away from work on some kind of secret mission.  One of the workers is dispatched by Mr. K's son-in-law to trail the old man to see where he is going.  (The worker is inept and ends up having drinks with his mocking boss).  When Mr. K-- reaches his destination, we learn that he is seeing an old mistress named Sasaki.  They have been engaged in a extra-marital affair for more than twenty years and there's a moving scene in which the two recall some of the past liaisons.  Mr. K-- is reputed to be the father of Sasaki's daughter, Yuri.  Like mother like daughter, Yuri seems to be prostitute, although of the higher category -- her suitors are stiff and polite American servicemen.  Yuri has been taught to call Mr. K-- "father" because this is a way to get expensive gifts from him -- in fact, Sasaki tells her daughter that she doesn't know the identity of her father, but says, practically, that paternity is best demonstrated by the presents that a man gives you.  (Yuri yearns for a mink stole).  Mr. K--'s relationship with Sasaki is well-known to his children - he has three daughters with his deceased and lawful wife.  It turns out that Noriko, the widow, is the oldest daughter; there is a second daughter named Akiko for whom family members are trying to arrange a match, and, then, a third daughter, the censorious and sharp-tongued Fumiko who is married to Hisao, the son-in-law who is heir-apparent to the failing Sake brewery.  Adding to this family group are an aunt and uncle from Nagoya whose exact relationship is obscure (they are the figures the executives in the plant try unsuccessfully to identify); although these characters appear rather late in the film they have several important lines.  During a family gathering on the anniversary of the death of Mr. K--'s wife, the old man has a heart attack.  However, he seems to recover.  (We know that he's better because he gets up with a rag on his head, apparently moistened to cool his brow, and loudly announces that he has to go to the toilet, an act that Ozu, who was no prude about such matters, scarcely avoids showing.)  The old man seems to get better.  In fact, he's well enough to sneak away to see his old girlfriend.  The old roue enjoys betting on bicycle rides and he goes to velocidrome with his mistress.  He wants to go out to Osaka for a night on the town, but his girlfriend suggests that a nice bath together and a few drinks at home would be better.  That night, Mr. K-- dies.  His family has to come to his death bed (he's already deceased) in Sasaki's house -- although everyone is on good behavior.  Asked what Mr. K-- said as his last words, the old call girl tells them that he cried out:  "Is this it?  Is this really it?"  The family gathers for the funeral.  The patriarch's death has liberated his daughters, in fact, the whole family.  K's son-in-law plans a merger of the old Sake firm with a modern brewer.  The widow, Noriko tells everyone that she is quite content as a widow, that she doesn't need a man in her life, and prefers to be allowed to remain single.  Akiko renounces suitors imposed upon her by the family (really proposed business partners) and plans to go to Sapporo where a man that she loves is working as an impoverished teaching assistant.  (In an early scene, we saw his farewell party -- this is a typical Ozu narrative tactic:  we don't know who the young man feted at the party is, nor do we yet know that the young woman who seems to be in love with him is Akiko -- this is only established much later.  The party is odd in that the assembled guests sit in sex-segregated opposite sides of the table and sing verses of what sounds like "My Darling Clementine" -- apparently, the tune appropriated by the Japanese as a kind of farewell song.)  Ozu is nothing if not adventurous with his mise-en-scene -- in the midst of the family's mourning, he cuts away to a man and woman who seem to washing some kind of produce in a saltwater estuary.  These people are performers well-known from many other Ozu pictures but who have not appeared in any capacity in this movie.  The man and woman remark that there are many crows strutting about on the tidal flats and that this surely means that someone has died.  They peer toward a tall smokestack and note that there's nothing emitted -- "they aren't cremating anyone today," the woman says to the man.  There are several scenes of the family members crossing a river on a wooden bridge -- the image of crossing a river, of course, has funereal implications.  The remaining entanglements in the film are resolved and, then, the two people on the river bank, who are unnamed and have no connection to anyone in the movie, note that there is white smoke coming from the crematorium smoke-stack.  The crows strut and preen. Ozu somehow maximizes our involvement with the old man's death and his family while dramatizing that the world as a whole is completely indifferent to what has happened.

The End of the Summer is a late masterwork by a great film-maker.  It's audaciously made and intentionally confusing -- the story is so slight that Ozu seems to want us to be involved by figuring out the relationship between the characters.  (He dramatizes this in the scene with the two salary-men accountants try to work out who is related to whom.)  Although nothing much happens, the film is momentous, about profound issues of life and death.  Old Mr. K-- was a hedonist and spent his life making merry -- one of the old women says this in admiration, but, then, bursts into tears.  A film of this sort has to be seen several times to be appreciated, but I can sense that the movie is excellent and very profound.