Noriko is 27 years old and lives with her widower father, Professor Shukichi Somiya. Having spent her early-and-mid-twenties dealing with World War II, health issues, and taking care of her father, Noriko is somewhat past what would be considered (in 1949 Japan) her prime marrying years. Her very traditional aunt Masa is concerned for Noriko’s wellbeing unmarried and convinces her father Shukichi to become concerned as well. But Noriko isn’t sold on the urgency to marry. She sees examples of “distasteful” marriage and knows that her friend Aya has left an unpleasant union and is now taking care of herself (i.e. there are other options in life). Noriko increasingly bristles and protests when the subject of marriage comes up. She also loves her father and is concerned how he would manage without her. Professor Shukichi tries to quell this concern by suggesting that he, too, will remarry. This notion breaks Noriko’s heart and spirit, so she reluctantly agrees to meet a man for a prospective arranged marriage. She agrees to the arrangement with very little passion or excitement, but with the understanding that her father thinks it’s the right choice and the “natural order of things”.

“Late Spring” is known as a shomen-geki film, or a film that deals with the ordinary lies of middle class Japanese citizens. While a seemingly simple film, there’s a lot going on beneath the surface (according to Wikipedia; I often wasn’t wise to it…lol). Director Yasujirō Ozu contended with American censorship issues and the post-war Japanese zeitgeist when crafting this film about transitioning from one phase of life to another.

First of all, I loved getting a glimpse into Japanese culture in 1949. The film is an intentional mis-match of traditional Japanese design, western business attire, and ‘40s dresses and hairstyle; quite unique. But really, I loved the film dealing with themes that are still relevant today (perhaps more today than they have been in some time)—the struggle between generational conceptions of maturity, taking care of oneself/being provided for, etc. You still hear older generations gossiping about younger generations in terms like “are they married yet?” or “have they found a job yet?” or “do they still live with their parents?” There’s a certain universality to these themes that reached straight through this film to today, even if there are less common western notions, such as an arranged marriage or disgust at the idea of divorce/remarrying. And there’s a chilling sadness about how your child’s transition into marriage (during late spring) suggests a parent’s transition into their final phase of life (perhaps during late autumn).

Like I said, I wasn’t alway wise to what was happening beneath the surface, either for cultural reasons or not. The film was intentionally slow and deliberate, and there were parts that didn’t land for me. But in general, I’d say I enjoyed this deeply personal character study.

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AuthorJahan Makanvand