User Reviews

This was a lovely little Japanese film about an acting troop's visit to a small town. One of the troop's members is an older man who fathered a child in this town many years ago and it has remained a secret. His arrival is greeted by the boy and his mother as a visit from an uncle, not his father. These relationships and the relationship between the man and other women in the troop are interesting. While not the very best Japanese film I've seen, the acting and direction are excellent and this film is well worth your time. However, it is possible that SOME may find the ending somewhat unsatisfying, though I did not feel that way. In other words, the typical Hollywood-style ending is NOT what you get from this movie.

This film was originally made by Ozu in 1934--though oddly this version is silent. And the original is nearly identical in many, many ways. Because of this, I actually preferred the remake, though both are well worth seeing.

Yasujiro Ozu was perhaps the greatest obsessional filmmaker in history. Thus, it's no surprise that not only did he rework the same themes over and again in his films, but that he also redid earlier films of his own years later, such as 1932's I Was Born But... as 1959's Good Morning. The most famed examples of this trait are 1934's silent black and white A Story Of Floating Weeds (Ukikusa Monogatari), written by Ozu and Tadao Ikeda, and 1959's sound color film, Floating Weeds (Ukigusa), written by Ozu and Kôgo Noda. Both films, whose titular metaphor revolves around the lives of itinerant actors, tell basically the same tale, in slightly different ways, with differently named characters. They follow the ups and downs of the leader of a really bad theater troupe, on its last legs (not unlike the characters from Federico Fellini's first film, Variety Lights), who lands in a town and visits an old girlfriend who bore him a son. In both films, the son believes his father is really his uncle, and the major development in the films is how the father's jealous actress girlfriend tries to sabotage things by having a pretty young actress seduce the son, thus recapitulating the father's key moment in life, one the father believes ruined his chance at stardom and happiness.

If one is thinking that this is the stuff of pure melodrama, it is. But that's true only on the surface. This is where depth and execution of an art come into play. It also abnegates claims that Ozu eschewed plot in his films for melodrama is about nothing if but plot. While it's true he did not strive for A to B to C narratives, and preferred 'organic' story growth, the fact is that all his films had plots, and good ones. But they were not plot driven, nor dependent upon the heavyhanded machinations most drama and films rely upon. The difference between having a plot and being plot driven is something most critics seem to not understand. Ozu simply removes the superfluous plot moments and adds contemplative, poetic, and metaphoric shots in their place, what are termed 'pillow shots.' The emphasis is thus not on the driving, but the driver, of plot. After all, the tale of a parent who has a long lost child is not fresh, although the way it's told can be.

As for the films, the earlier one is actually the slightly better film, mostly because it's more concise- clocking in at 86 minutes vs. the two hour remake….In defense of the later film, it has more humor (one character from the troupe claims his name is Toshiro Mifune- the great star of so many Akira Kurosawa films; a nod to Ozu's rival), and the son's reaction to the news about his father seems a bit more mature and realistic than in the earlier film, while the mother seems more resigned to her lover's leaving, rather than being devastated- as in the earlier film. But the ending of the earlier film, on the train, is better, for when we see the troupe leader reunited with his love, and see the sleeping child, the earlier film leaves no doubt that the leader is wistfully thinking of his son, while the later film does not. Another plus that the later film has is its use of color and symbolism, which is far more striking. The opening scene contrasts a lighthouse in the background with a foregrounded bottle. It is a stunning visual image, and such phallic symbols abound in the film, as bottles are repeatedly seen, and there is a scene where the local prostitutes tease the male troupe members as they suck on popsicles. We then see the lighthouse from other perspectives over the course of the film. The earlier film is not set at a seaside town, but in a rural area, and the scene of the father and son fishing is superior in the later film, for there is no oddly stylized synchronization of the pair tossing their fishing lines into the river, over and again, as in the 1934 film, and what the duo speak of- their views on the father's approach to acting, is far more cogent than in the silent version, whose major moment is when the father drops his wallet into the running water. The later version also mimetically puts the father and son in the position of the bottle in relation to the lighthouse at the film's opening. What this means, from a phallic perspective, is open to several interpretations. Another major difference between the two films is that the earlier film has more motion in it- literally. It was made before Ozu got caught in his tatami mat point of view mode, and therefore the emotion of the drama is recapitulated better in the earlier, more kinetic, film….Both A Story Of Floating Weeds and Floating Weeds are proof that not all obsessions result in negativity, a thing one might remind oneself of the next time someone speaks ill of that trait. They are also fine examples of what made Yasujiro Ozu a great artist, even if the art in them might fall just a bit shy of overall greatness. Viva obsesión!?

Viewed on DVD. Restoration = ten (10) stars. Pictorially, this film is a work of art: static scene by static scene (the camera never moves). Color cinematography is simply gorgeous . Set decoration is stunning. Costumes are eye-popping beautiful. It is by far the most end-to-end sumptuously mounted film from the "classical" period of the Japanese cinema! The director also leaves out most of his customary trademarks of ugliness (overhead power lines, clothes lines, ungainly mass transient, etc.). The script has been punched up sufficiently to hold the viewer's attention through patches of dramatic tediousness and outright boredom. Events are usually well telegraphed in advance so there are few, if any, surprises. The film is too long. There is the lingering impression that the director may have had a hard time letting go of his creation and bringing matters to an end. Acting is first rate (some actors are from the director's excellent in effect repertory company). Sound is fine and crisply captures Western-accented (Kansai-ben) dialog. Subtitles seem just right. The score copies music from the Italian cinema of the era. Best watched on a large screen to fully appreciate the artistry. WILLIAM FLANIGAN, PhD.

A number of people seem to have difficulty with Ozu films, thinking them slowly-paced, static, or plain boring. But with a little use of patience and reflection, Floating Weeds is brilliantly appealing. Let me expand upon one particular angle that might make this film more accessible.

Other reviewers have already commented on the films beauty in color, the pace of normal, real life in a seaside village, and the intimacy of the film. Others have also mentioned in negative commentary that they really didn't like any of the characters. This point, actually, is the reason why the film for me passes beyond "good" to "brilliant."

Although the characters have charm and appeal, they also have many unappealing flaws: Sumiko's jealous vengeance, Kayo's blind following of malicious orders, Komajuro's blatant concealing of the truth of his being Kiyoshi's father and subsequent pathetic attempt to reenter his life and become his acting father, and more. But this made me a more active audience member--much like real theater does--made me want to reach out and grab the actors, saying "You fools! What are you doing!?" You can see them make the poor choices that lead to recklessness of Sumiko and the breakups of Kayo and Kiyoshi as well as Komajuro and Kiyoshi, for example. The characters seem to think that they are trapped, that it is their fate. And Komajuro and Sumiko feel that resignation as they come to accept each other and their flaws at the end. But for me, it was a wake-up call that moved me out of my seat. The major human relationship problems could have been helped with better choices. The characters give up too easily on trying to understand each other. Instead of trying to save face by hiding their problems or violently repressing them, Komajiro could have been forthcoming about his past with Sumiko, Komajuro and Kiyoshi's mother could have gone straight to the truth with their son about Kiyoshi's father and about Sumiko's jealous rage in getting Kayo to seduce him. These choices seem to be more difficult to carry out, but they would have nonetheless eased the tension of the plot and averted catastrophe. Communication and striving to understand each other, even the ones most important to us, is not an easy thing.

By setting up these struggles on the screen, Ozu empowers his audience to take their own lives beyond that of the characters limited to the fated script. I think it's the colorful beauty of the scenes, the serenity of the seaside village, the fact that the characters have likable aspects as well as all-too-human flaws, and the masterful construction of the film as a whole that helps drive this process. Movies do well to inspire us, but they don't always do so by showing us flawless heroes to live up to or tell us what the moral of the story is. Sometimes, we learn by understanding how others have failed while coming to our own conclusions on how they could have fared better.