Synopsis
To put her brother Ryo through college, Chikako
works as a diligent typist by day, and moonlights
as a scholar's translator - or so she has Ryo
believe. However, her chaste reputation is put
into question when a police investigation suggests
that she might lead a double life, both as an
office worker, and a cabaret hostess. When Ryo's
girlfriend Harue discloses the findings of her
policeman brother Kinoshita, a violent confrontation
ensues, leading to Ryo's suicide.
Thoughts from Ozu This film was rushed out in eight days. Shooting
began even before the script had been completed.
It tells the story of a woman who is an office
lady by day and moonlights in a sleazy bar by
night. We got the idea for this story after seeing
a dance by this kind of girl. The author with
a katakana name in the credits is a fictional
one. I think this is a rather good film. A certain
compositional style of mine began to emerge from
this point on.
Background
The
28th film shot from the end of January to the
beginning of February 1933. The Working title
was Her Case, For Example (Tatoeba kanojo
no baai). The credit tile indicates "from
the novel Twenty-six Hours, by Ernst Schwartz".
This looks real, but it is nonsense. On the day
of the scenario reading of the following film,
Dragnet Girl, Ozu was requested to make
one film as quickly as possible. (Probably one
film was missing in the rotation schedule). Before
the completion of the screenplay writing, production
started, and the shooting was finished within
nine days. The screenplay is a collaboration by
Ozu, Noda Kogo, and Ikeda Tadao. The name of Ernst
Schwartz was compounded from the names of the
two directors Ernst Lubitsch and Hans Schwartz.
This film is most typical of Ozu's silent technique.
Ozu remembered that his camera position was quite
decided from that time on. The low camera position,
the size of the photographic object, and the use
of the close up Ozu's typical shots of personas
whose eyes look in the same direction, the pictorial
shots at the beginning and the end of sequences
(the so called pillow shots), the handling of
the properties, the use of moving shots and other
peculiarities were applied schematically. Woman
of Tokyo is a perfect film for an analytical
study of Ozu's technical characteristics. The
apartment as surrounding is set up to isolate
the main protagonists, the sister and her young
brother, from the external world to confine them
to a closed, independent space. It seems that
the two are cut off from any means to communicate
with the outside. The brother is a student, but,
in contrast to the former student films, no friend
or anyone close shows up. His girlfriend is his
sole connection to the external world. However,
even on their date, they go o the move theater,
a dark, closed space. This construction is certainly
convenient considering the short shooting time.
However the "apartment" space, which
in former films opened beyond the sea (America)
even when excluding the Japanese reality, is now
blocked in the state of a perfectly secret room.
It is reminiscent of the Japan, which at that
time was sliding towards a blockade situation.
One shot in the screenplay suggest that the sister
is a liaison member of the Communist Party. It
is not clear if this shot was ever filmed, or
if it was removed at the time of editing. The
censors did not cut this film. The film-within-a-film
is Ernst Lubitsch's part of the Paramount omnibus
If I Had a Million (1932) with Charles
Laughton in the leading role. The title Girls
in Uniform (Madchen in Uniform, 1931)
can also be seen in the program.
Personal
Thoughts and Comments Woman of Tokyo is one of Ozu's most emotionally
powerful and bleakest films. The story centers
around Chikako (played by Yoshiko Okada), a poor
woman living with her brother Ryoichi (Ureo Egawa).
Chikako supports her brother through his schooling
by working as an office typist during the day
and secretly as a prostitute at night. When her
secret becomes known through gossip, Ryoichi becomes
angry and ashamed of Chikako, despite her self
sacrifice of supporting him financially. Many
have compared this to the films of Kenji Mizoguchi,
and while the observation is justified, Woman
of Tokyo is essential Ozu in it's style. The
beauty of the film is the way Ozu brings it together
visually. While there are not as many of his trademark
"pillow shots" seen in his later work,
here Ozu uses visual patterns to bring the film
together on a rhythmic level. Objects (such as
socks, teapots, lamp posts, clocks, sinks) become
pivotal motifs in the patterns and transitions
of scenes, which ultimately create the rhythm
of the film. A socially aware examination in Ozu's
definitive theme of family separation, as well
as an emotionally tragic and compassionate melodrama,
Woman of Tokyo leaves it's mark as an incredibly
powerful work from a master filmmaker.