Tokyo Story (1953)

I like the camera work. The camera will just sit there and capture the smokestacks, the powerlines, or children walking to school. Even in the home, if the mother is cleaning, the camera will just sit on the floor and watch her through a door or from down a hallway. At first I thought it was odd that the camera just sat on the ground, but that's also the way Japanese people sit -- on the floor -- so in a sense, it's the same view that a person would have if observing.

The parents -- Shukichi (Chishû Ryû) and Tomi (Chieko Higashiyama) -- make the train trip to see their children. They're both in their 60s and it's been maybe years since they've seen their Tokyo kids, maybe meeting their grandchildren for the first time. A high level of politeness and ceremony when they arrive, but that doesn't extend to the grandchildren. They don't know their grandparents and one complains about having his desk moved for their visit. Where will he do his homework? It's obvious the grandparents are seen, at least by him, as an inconvenience. Soon it's obvious that the children see their parents as a burden, too... they just hide it a little bit better under the politeness veneer.

Tokyo is only a day's journey by train, so why has the relatively short distance kept the children from visiting their parents, or vice versa? The parents don't ask why their kids never come to visit, but it's one of those films where you start to think a lot is left implied or unsaid right below the level of politeness.

Do the parents expect to be entertained? The children all have their jobs and routines. It leaves the parents with nothing to do and no one to show them around Tokyo, a city they don't know. Tomi takes the younger grandson on a short walk, but they don't talk at all. He picks weeds and she watches him and wonders what he will be when he grows up, and if she will still be alive to see it. She might only be in her 60s, but she's "fat" and has health issues that she probably keeps to herself. She knows she might not be alive too much longer.

I feel like we're waiting along with the parents. When will something happen? At the same time, the children are wondering: How long will they stay, and when are they going home? At the 35-minute mark in the film, nothing has happened, really. The film to this point has just been about the waiting and the idea of a visit that never actually achieves anything.

Eventually Noriko (Setsuko Hara) takes a day off from work so she can take her in-laws on a bumpy bus tour of Tokyo. Her husband was drafted and apparently died in the war. That was eight years ago. Why hasn't she remarried and moved on with her life? She still keeps his picture up in her very modest apartment, and Tomi, Shukichi, and Noriko talk about him as they sit around drinking saki she borrowed from a neighbor. It's odd that she has the least connection and the least to offer, but she is willing to entertain and spend time with her in-laws when their own children are "too busy." It's noticeable, and both Tomi and Shukichi will individually thank her for taking the time and making the effort that their own children do not.

It's the other kids who asked Noriko to help out, so that they don't have to feel guilty about not spending any time with their parents while they visit. And then they gather to talk about what they can do with their parents since they're "so busy." They get the idea to pool their money to send them to Atami Hot Springs. They at least pretend to believe that their parents want to rest and enjoy a vacation, when actually, didn't they come to Tokyo to see their kids? But what does it mean to "see" someone or spend time with children that are now adults and have their own lives... who don't want to entertain parents, or even talk or spend time with them?

Everyone keeps fanning themselves throughout the movie. It must be hot a summer, and no building in Japan has air conditioning. The children may claim to be busy, but they do seem to sit around a lot and do nothing but fan themselves. Meanwhile, the parents don't like Atami. It's for the "younger generation," but when they go back to Tokyo, they know they're not wanted. It's more than clear to them that they should go home. Shige (Haruko Sugimura), their hairdresser daughter, doesn't even claim them as parents, telling a client that they're just friends visiting from out of town.

The parents are ready just to go home, but for whatever reason, it feels like they can't. They have to find a way to stay on in Tokyo, but they must not have the money, as they keep trying to find ways to stay with family or acquaintances. But that's the point, right? They're lonely, and they want to be with people. Going to a place or "vacationing" at a hot springs isn't at all what they want. They want to be wanted. They want to be around people and none of the people they know want them around. They really are the burden they joke about being in polite conversation.

To be less of a burden, the parents split up. The father goes to see the Hattori's a couple from the same hometown. Shukichi sent them a Christmas card every year, but they haven't seen each other in 17 years. Tokyo in 1953 had a population of 1 million, but other than family, these are the closest people he knows in the city. What could they still have in common anymore? He and Mr. Hattori go out for a drink, but it's clear they're searching for ways to fill the time. Shukichi's visit was a surprise, and there's nothing planned for them to do together. They meet up with the old police chief from their town; he's now retired, and the three of them drink sake, and talk about how they miss their kids (either lost to war, or living their own lives), and how their kids see them as burdens. The older generation, then, recognizes that their kids don't want them around, but to be fair, it's hard to see what the older generation wants from them. This older generation doesn't seem to "do" anything. What do they imagine they would "do" with their kids, even if their kids had time and interest? Maybe that is the "real dilemma" of the film: What to do with the rest of your life once school and work years are gone.

As the three men drink sake into the night, they start admitting that they're dissatisfied with their lives, specifically their children, who don't have the "spirit" and "motivation" to be successful -- or the willingness or sense of duty to spend time with their parents. Even Shukichi admits that although his son Koichi (Sô Yamamura) is a doctor, he's just a small neighborhood doctor. Are we to believe that the drinking is bringing out the real truth, that sake dulls politeness, or is Shukichi still trying to be polite to the police chief by saying, "If you're son is a failure, so is mine:"? Maybe a little of both.

In the meantime, Tomi has returned to Noriko's apartment. They don't spend the night drinking, of course, but maybe one-on-one, the truth will still have a way to be said. And it happens at bedtime, when Tomi muses about the privilege of sleeping in her dead son's bed. It's an awkward thing to say, but she then apologizes for being rude before she bluntly asks Noriko why she hasn't gotten remarried. She's been a widow for eight years and lives in a studio apartment. She's wasting the best years of her life, and if she doesn't get married soon, she will be alone and lonely when she's older. Noriko keeps the smile on her face the entire time and claims to be happy, but when she turns out the light, tears well up in her eyes. The politeness is a facade. She's been a widow for eight years and doesn't have much to show for her life to this point.

When they finally do head home, Koichi and Shige are relived. It's not that either dislikes their parents. They simply don't want to be bothered by them, and maybe they are worried about the "expense" -- especially Shige. There's another son who lives in Osaka, but when his mom takes ill on the train home and his parents stay a day with him so she can feel better, he more focused on the inconvenience than how his mom feels. At the same time, he knows that a good son would want to be of service to his parents while they're alive, because there's nothing you can do for them "beyond the grave."

Why don't people take advantage of the time they have? We're all mortal, but life sometimes seems to get in the way. When a death happens, sometimes that's what it takes to interrupt life and routine and take a moment to mourn. Unfortunately, when Tomi dies, a moment is all the children give. Kyoko and Noriko discuss this. Kyoko is a teacher who still lives at home with Shukichi. She hates how selfish her siblings are, but Noriko defends them, saying that it's natural to be selfish. That adult children drift away from their parents. I think both of those things can be true without them needing be true together. Yes, we all tend to focus on our own wants and needs first, but even if we're not as close with our parents as we were when we were younger, at what point do we recognize our own selfishness and put the needs of an elderly parent first?

The ending is quiet. Noriko takes the train back to Tokyo. She was the only one to stay a few days. They other kids left immediately. Shukichi gave her Tomi's pocket watch. She looks at the time. Will she find a way to live her life and stay selfless?

Meanwhile, Shukichi sits at home alone. He has a neighbor who checks in on him, but other than that, he only has his youngest daughter, and if she ever marries, he will be totally alone.

Rating: 5/5 stars