Tokyo Story is different in a variety of ways. Aside from the change in pace, this film also brings us directly into the domestic, personal sphere. Most of the film is shot with low angles, orienting us to the inner workings of the lives of the main characters. One of my favourite scenes was when the father came into the kitchen and went to go sit at what appeared to be a kitchen table. It wasn’t until he actually crossed his legs and sat on the floor that I realised the use of low angles had tricked my eyes in an ingenious way.
Thinking about Tokyo Story in terms of a foray into the private, domestic world struck me as similar to the 1950s suburbia in America. I recently read Richard Yates’ Revolutionary Road (no, I haven’t seen the movie yet… despite your thoughts on the film, I highly recommend the novel) and although the plotlines between these two pieces are polar opposites, I still could not help but draw similarities between them.
In the world of Revolutionary Road, Yates draws us into the world of suburbia in the outskirts of New York City and focuses on the lives of a couple. The novel is written with beautiful eloquence, describing in details the landscape and private space in which the novel’s primary focus, the Wheelers, live. Yates’ fluently written novel gives the reader great visual depth and allows them to see a side of modernity that until this point in time has often been hidden from the outsider.
Throughout the course we have discussed the idea of the screen in-depth. Both Revolutionary Road and Tokyo Story use the concept of a screen in that these works allow us to see right through this screen, into their windows and see the private aspects of their lives that are otherwise hidden from the public eye. This view inside their private world really gives the audience the capability of understanding the characters completely.
Furthermore, the pace of both Tokyo Story and Revolutionary Road share a similarity in my eyes. For a good portion of both works, the plot move slowly forward, inching towards the climax as opposed to racing down the train tracks. In one of my favorite lines of the novel, Yates writes, “our ability to measure and apportion time affords an almost endless source of comfort” (213). Although the pace of these works is not alarming, I feel that this only adds to the intensity. It leaves you with the feeling that something could happen at any moment or that each moment is contingent on the next one. For me, Tokyo Story was able to tell its tale through the slowing down time. Who says that all films need to be rushed? I think it says a little bit about life. I think if you’re constantly rushing and take in moments without concentrating on what they mean, you lose an important aspect of life. Perhaps that is what Ozu is trying to comment on this film. Perhaps he wants people to think about looking at life from a slow perspective and really seeing life when you’re not whizzing through it.
And for good measure:
Yates, Richard. Revolutionary Road. London: Vintage Books, 2007
