This view of contemporary middle class life in Japan is too leisurely paced, too sentimental in design and its humorous social comments too infrequent.
Stream An Autumn Afternoon
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Throughout, Ozu strikes a touchingly profound note whilst imbuing proceedings with his usual playfulness.
Stylistically it’s one of Ozu’s purest, most elemental works: no camera movement, very little movement within the frames, and hardly any apparent narrative progression. Appreciating Ozu is a matter of temperament—for some, his films are unbearably dull; for others, they are works of a unique serenity and beauty.
The progression of Ozu’s style seems to parallel that of Jacques Tati, who moved from the mutable likes of M. Hulot’s Holiday into the glass-cut inflexibility of Playtime.
Yasujiro Ozu's final film, re-released in a restored version, is a stately, slow-burning but very moving family drama.
Even if the story of a widower (the great Chishû Ryû) and his daughter weren’t such a naturally compelling variation on Ozu’s themes of family, devotion and sacrifice, the exquisite balance of hues and textures in every shot would render it essential viewing.
Ozu lets the story of uneasy transitions play out against a Japan that's undergoing changes of its own.
Ozu shows how fragile and yet burdensome the institution of the family is.
Ozu is one of the greatest artists to ever make a film. This was his last one.
Revisiting many of the master’s favourite themes – familial obligations, intergenerational frictions – Ozu’s 54th film delicately maintains its post-war critique.