Moving Stillness

Film as Cultural Context

"I Was Born, But..."

In the 1930s, two young brothers are forced to move to a developing suburban area when their father receives a new employment opportunity. Unfortunately, they are rapidly confronted to the popularity induced “hierarchy” amongst the fellow neighborhood schoolboys. They become victims of bullying to such an extent that they start skipping school and lie about it to their parents. However, the two boys finally succeed in outsmarting a foppish young boy named Taro, as well as one of the leaders of the group of bullies, and thus reverse the tendence. In spite of the boys’ win over the mean schoolboys, they end up just as abashed as they initially were when they discover the low position that their father, in truth, occupies at work. In fact, their father works for Taro’s father...

As you might have guessed, this essay will explore Dir. Yasujirō Ozu’s work, in particular, one of his most famous features: “I Was Born, But...” from 1932.

Firstly, allow me to address the meaning of this movie. What is this story truly about? Kids and bullies? Adapting? Or can another layer of meaning be found beneath the principal, most evident one? I find that this movie hides a deeper message. It hides a reflection or commentary on status/ social norms in adulthood, behind children’s mimicking behavior. Not only that, it hides a dramatic aspect behind a comedy. I wondered if Ozu intended it that way, if it is open to interpretation – well, I guess any film is arguably open to interpretation so long as it is watched – or if it is simply the product of the over analyzing of which us film students are culprits. I did some research and was pleasantly surprised when I found a direct quote from the director that corroborates my theory that this film is not only about children. In effect, author Brian Darr’s essay “I was born, But...” reveals an interesting statement, made by Ozu himself, about the movie in question, that the author extracted from an interview published in the Japanese film magazine Kinema Junpo, 26 years after the movie was made – the movie was released in 1932, this interview is from 1958. “I started to make a film about children and ended up with a film about grownups; while I had originally planned to make a fairly bright little story, it changed while I was working on it …. The company hadn’t thought it would turn out this way. They were so unsure of it that they delayed its release for two months.” Ozu explains.

Which opens a door to discuss the genre of this movie, and Japanese film genres of that time. After recovering from the 1923 earthquake that hit Tokyo, the city becomes a hub for pop culture. While enjoying American cinema and becoming more influenced by the western culture, Japan remains unique and develops its own filmmaking styles and diverse genres. Jidai-geki that was born in the 1920s and highlights aspects from ancient Japan such as swordplay, pursuits, and heroism, is still present. However, new genres, that are more contemporary, come to life. For instance, Gendai-geki, films that take place in present day settings (at the time of course), mainly produced in the vicinity of Tokyo. As well as Shomin-geki, a “sub-genre” of Gendai-geki, that could be referred to as “movies about Mr. everybody”, which focuses on the everyday life of middle-class ordinary people.

Overall, I would say Ozu’s films adopt a light tone. Funny but not shocking, meaningful but not too controversial, which explains why he got to pursue his work without too much trouble, even in times of war. Although, to go back to Ozu’s words: “The company hadn’t thought it would turn out this way. They were so unsure of it that they delayed its release for two months”. The picture bravely hides a critique of Japan’s work, or social, climate in the 1930s behind what can be labelled as a comedy. Which is, indeed, very interesting and intriguing when we take into consideration the censorship, inflicted on filmmaking, that took place during that time. In essence, at that time, Japan’s colossal military yearning and ambitions impacted filmmaking greatly. The government became more attentive of the messages that were transmitted through films. The strict political state of the country shaped filmmaking, in the sense that, only certain types of movies were allowed to be made.

Now, onto my favorite part: the cinematography. I have become very admirative of Ozu’s style. Especially his use of low camera angles. I believe that it creates a sense of intimacy and a shared environment between the characters and the audience. Almost as if we were sitting with them. It also brings a sort of calmness and stillness to his movies. Compared to the fast and shaky shots we are more used to nowadays, I find Ozu’s composed style to be quite refreshing and inviting. In contrast to the fast-paced society we now live in, his films always feel like a nice opportunity to take a break from all the chaos. It might sound obvious but his ground level shots have an actual grounding effect. At least on me. Additionally, the way Ozu puts together his frames feels very intentional. As though everything that appears in the shot is meant to be there. As a result, the black and white/lack of color, in his features, seems like a willing choice, rather than an obligation due to the absence of technologies and/or funding needed for color movies. Usually, I get slightly tired of black & white movies after a while. They tend to tire me. That is not the case with Ozu’s films. On the contrary, the simplicity of the nuances of greys, mixed with the tatami shots, generates a certain fascination in me. Naturally, the use of metric montage, or rapid successions of shots, can be used to create intensity. However, slow movements, and unusual angles can achieve this too. Particularly when the camera is very close to the floor, it is like the viewer is part of the characters’ life. Being let in on a secret.

To conclude, I am exceptionally happy to have gotten the opportunity to learn about and research early Japanese cinema. Clearly, Yasujirō Ozu’s signature is the one that strikes me the most and that, I believe, has changed my perspective on framing forever. I am deeply inspired by his work and intend to try to honor him in my own pieces. While the times have changed, and so have our circumstances, Ozu’s impact remains relevant to this day. When in doubt, move closer to the floor, ground yourself, it might offer you a better perspective on whichever scene is unfolding in your life.