OZU, CINEMATOGRAPHY & COLOURS
Written by Natalie Tham
It is genuinely not difficult to appreciate a Yasujiro Ozu film due to the superb aesthetic quality of the pictures. Narratively, Ozu’s films are consistent. The Japanese middle-class family is examined; it is relatable. It is real. As a non-Japanese, I understand this through watching a series of Ozu pictures. Though simple in its message, there’s something appealing and simply lovely about seeing real life play out on reel. It is really not difficult to be enamoured by the landscapes and movements that seem to blend together as a form of pathos, Ozu captures this so well.
Good Morning or Ohayo (1959) is one of Ozu’s later works and second colour film. It is a light-hearted story of childish tantrums of boys who fart out of childish pride and neighbourhood gossips which highlight the underlying socio-economic issues of the Japanese family. It is an easy film to watch - it is humorous and has loveable characters. See Isamu; small, easily influenced and follows every goodbye with an ‘I love you’. Good Morning is far from a Hollywood blockbuster, but this film takes Ozu’s already well-known cinematography to greater heights, marking itself as a film of distinct quality in its own right. If Ozu’s cinematography has not impressed you in his early works such as Tokyo Story (1953) or Late Spring (1949), this film demonstrates Ozu’s artistry of using colours in his story-telling as well.
This can be seen in the earlier part of the film. A quasi-establishing shot, which I honestly do consider a pillow shot (one of Ozu’s trademark technique) as well. We see the houses next to each other, we also see cables and metal structures. There is a sense of community which can be observed. Signs of development is also present. Especially with the clothes hanging on the clothes line, this shot brings you into the story of a community, perhaps a community paving their way on the road to modernity.
Medium shots are not something new that can be observed in an Ozu film. This point-of-view shot sees us in the perspective of who the characters are talking to. It is intimate and personal, yet allows for breather from the audience. The conversations themselves, in this case, a conversation about overdue payments, are normal. The audience are engaging as much as the characters are in the film.
Signs of technology - this is a fitting mise-en-scène for this film. The gist of the narrative is of two brothers throwing a tantrum over their parents’ refusal to get them a television. In the film, the television is regarded as a symbol of modernity for a modern Japanese family, a symbol of entertainment for the younger generation and an ‘idiot box’ to the older ones who do not understand the concept of televised entertainment and communication. The emergence of technology follows through with the development of Japanese society; even in Ozu’s latest film An Autumn Afternoon (1962), the existing tradition of marriage arrangement for instance, is juxtaposed against the signs of technology as seen from household items of technological nature. This is the most telling sign of an older Ozu film and his later works.
Ozu’s cinematography is clean and precise. Symmetry is evident. Think Stanley Kubrick, but introduce landscapes of the suburbs. The long takes on these movements or non-movements allow the audience to find a sense of aesthetic balance, that can also be paralleled with the emotional balance of the characters.
The above shots clearly depict the primary use of colours in Ozu’s films. Ozu’s preference of pastel palettes and primary colours in his films result in a calming yet balanced effect. The little towns depicted in his films become reduced to a constancy and familiarity of muted green and brown interiors. Since most home spaces or establishments are dominated with more earthy tones, the colour red seems to become useful in alluding vibrancy. Red bowls, red lanterns lit at night, red logos of commercial brands - a simple colour becomes a decorative tool that breaks the nothingness of the scenes.
A significant note here is the tatami shots of Ozu that can be observed in most of the images above. A tatami shot, or simply, the low-angle shots, can be seen as the perspective of the observer on the tatami. It is a humbling view to be in, and almost a privilege for the audience as Ozu is bringing us directly into the film. It is not a voyeuristic approach, but a welcoming one that makes us feel like we are sitting right in the home of the characters, seeing what they are seeing, going through what they are going through.
I barely scratched the surface of the beauty of watching an Ozu film, but I really do hope to be able to further divulge more on this in the future. Ozu’s films are breathtaking, every scene, every shot, is crafted into a postcard-worthy image. Ozu is careful in doing so so that it is not purely an aesthetic picture, and that it does mean something. In every Ozu film, although subject matters may seem very middle-class and ‘normal’, there is an underlying message that ultimately emerges to tie the story together and make it something more than it is. Pillow shots aid us in these reflections throughout the film, allowing us to absorb the feelings that Ozu aims to paint.
Ozu’s films are beautiful, and they’re beautiful with a purpose.
