It’s interesting to contrast the positioning and attitude towards children in this, Ozu’s first post-ww2 film, versus what came before. Where previous Ozu children could represent judges and critics, here a child is relegated to an entity of dubious existence.
This opens with a man speaking to himself and essentially vocalizing the “what’s done is done” sentiment. I think, here, children represent the totality of temporal culpability. The man’s opening lines opine about a past no longer existant, thus of no consequence. Previous crimes are equated to proverbial spilled milk.
So too does our heroine, and even more criminally, the rest of the men, want to pretend the child doesn’t exist by putting him out of their mind. There’s a morbid irony to Chishu Ryu and the other man’s character passing the child off to a neighbor literally across a pathway. They can’t take the boy in, for reasons… yet he will reside in a home mere yards away.
The child represents the now, the avoidance of the immediate and the current. He serves as a direct reflection to Tane and her faults. Tane’s female friend and visitor checks her and her avoidance.
Finally, the child embodies the future and everything the adult population of Japan stands to ignore and forfeit. There is a responsibility the current adult generation faces. This extends into the assumptions cast upon those unseen, like the missing father whom Tane repeatedly reminds the boy is cold-hearted. Through this attitude, the presiding pessimistic sentiment of the culture is exposed.
The ultimate sentimentality of the film’s conclusion is a bit overbearing in palpability. Its message is not subtle and feels didactic. But like most Ozu’s, there are a number of small joys. Tane assuming the boy’s quirky “cooties,” as she calls them, is probably the most endearing. The pair synchronistically twitching shoulders is endearing and serves as a small but universal reminder of our shared humanity, regardless of age or gender.
It’s interesting to contrast the positioning and attitude towards children in this, Ozu’s first post-ww2 film, versus what came before. Where previous Ozu children could represent judges and critics, here a child is relegated to an entity of dubious existence.
This opens with a man speaking to himself and essentially vocalizing the “what’s done is done” sentiment. I think, here, children represent the totality of temporal culpability. The man’s opening lines opine about a past no longer existant, thus of no consequence. Previous crimes are equated to proverbial spilled milk.
So too does our heroine, and even more criminally, the rest of the men, want to pretend the child doesn’t exist by putting him out of their mind. There’s a morbid irony to Chishu Ryu and the other man’s character passing the child off to a neighbor literally across a pathway. They can’t take the boy in, for reasons… yet he will reside in a home mere yards away.
The child represents the now, the avoidance of the immediate and the current. He serves as a direct reflection to Tane and her faults. Tane’s female friend and visitor checks her and her avoidance.
Finally, the child embodies the future and everything the adult population of Japan stands to ignore and forfeit. There is a responsibility the current adult generation faces. This extends into the assumptions cast upon those unseen, like the missing father whom Tane repeatedly reminds the boy is cold-hearted. Through this attitude, the presiding pessimistic sentiment of the culture is exposed.
The ultimate sentimentality of the film’s conclusion is a bit overbearing in palpability. Its message is not subtle and feels didactic. But like most Ozu’s, there are a number of small joys. Tane assuming the boy’s quirky “cooties,” as she calls them, is probably the most endearing. The pair synchronistically twitching shoulders is endearing and serves as a small but universal reminder of our shared humanity, regardless of age or gender.
