I Was Born, But ...

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Yasujiro Ozu's I Was Born, But ... (1932) is often called the masterpiece of Ozu's silent era and I agree with that sentiment. It succeeds at being a pitch-perfect comedy about childhood and a heartbreaking film about social injustice and family.

Even though the focus is on two brothers Ozu creates a huge ensemble of unforgettable characters around them. At first the film lulls the viewer with its lovely humor as performed by the wonderful cast of child actors, but gradually the tone becomes more and more serious ending in a heartaching way that is more than capable of delivering the central message.

Ozu also seems to finally master his form in this film: where it seemed a bit overblown or tired in Tokyo Chorus (1931) it seems to work smoothly despite still being vastly different from his sound film aesthetic.

I Was Born, But ... is an essential film for any cinephile - and especially if you're a fan of Japanese cinema or a fan Ozu, you can't miss out on this one.

Score: 10 out of 10

Flight of the Red Balloon

Hsiao-hsien Hou's Flight of the Red Balloon (2007) reminds me of the director's earlier film, Café Lumière (2003), because in both films he explores a foreign culture so vividly and profoundly in a minimalistic way. Whereas Café Lumière was only about that Flight of the Red Balloon's scope is a bit bigger. As a vital reference to Albert Lamorisse's Red Balloon (1956) a mysterious red balloon follows the son of a puppeteer and his babysitter in Paris.

Hou's "slice of life" approach is still refreshing and brilliant in a way that's hard to put into words. There's a heart-warming aspect to it although the film's atmosphere is occasionally gloomy. Hou creates one of the most interesting characters of his entire career with the Chinese babysitter, Fang Song, who is also a film student interested in shooting footage of the boy's adventures in the city. Despite its freewheeling nature as a vivid document of the culture the film also deals with family issues and art in a significant degree, which makes it even more interesting.

Hou's minimal (but not static) camera movement, gorgeous compositions and calm editing (most scenes are shot with a single take) are as captivating and sophisticated as in his greatest masterpieces such as City of Sadness. The instrumental music is used in a slightly cathartic way that reminds me of Hou's earlier films although this time it was even more effective. Especially the song used at the end of the film was a great choice.

Hsiao-hsien continues to amaze me with his wisdom and sophistication which seem to be never-ending seeing that his career has lasted for so long already and he has never stumbled drastically.

Score: 10 out of 10

Sansho the Bailiff

As much as I hate the nickname, Kenji Mizoguchi is considered one of "three masters of Japanese cinema" alongside Kurosawa and Ozu. I've read that his films are most diverse when compared to the other two and it becomes very apparent when I compare his Sansho the Bailiff (1954) to Ugetsu: while Ugetsu is extremely poetic and otherwordly, Sansho the Bailiff is rougher and more direct and gripping in its depiction of the world. The film concentrates on the tragedy of a family breaking apart: the wife and children of a former governor are captured by slave traders and we, the viewers, witness their struggle to reunite.

The most accomplished aspect of the film's content is certainly its narrative. It is incredibly dense - and it seems like there is no limit for the amount of plot development that takes place. The storytelling is not only dense, but also well structured: it's one of the best tragedies I've ever seen. There are a few moments of redemption here and there, but the slow descent into the tragic ending is as painful as it should be. At its core, the movie is about perseverance and integrity during hard times. Naturally, this includes Mizoguchi's observations on the position of women in Japan.

Mizoguchi's form works well as well - although I'm not sure if it is as great as in Ugetsu. His camerawork is very precise and striking, but there are moments when it is too simple when compared to the rest of the film. However, his cinematography and editing form unforgettable scenes in the film, like the moment the children are separated from the mother: it's a masterful scene even by Mizoguchi's own standards.

In the end, Sansho the Bailiff is a fascinating film that deserves its praise, but I do not appreciate it as much as his earlier film, Ugetsu.

Score: 9 out of 10

Nobody Knows

At first I have to mention that Nobody Knows (2004) is the first film I've seen from the Japanese director Hirokazu Koreeda. The film's screenplay was written during a period of 15 years and it was inspired by a real life story. The film tells the story of 4 children who are left alone by their single mom who runs away with a new boyfriend.

Essentially the film is about lost childhood and the importance of family. It is tragic to see the family fall apart although the end is not completely somber. The children try hard to escape their anxieties - they don't even realise their horrible situation at first. What Koreeda has to say is somewhat relevant, it never feels like he has a precise idea on what he wants to say - or his ideas are a little too narrow for the film to become "perfect". Luckily, its complex narrative is rewarding (and involving) even though it is challenging as well.

Koreeda handles the subject with strict minimalism: a lot of plot development happens offscreen, the performances are very naturalistic (the film has one of the greatest casts that consist of only children) and the camerawork isn't elaborate. The slow pace of the film might not be easy for everyone, but it fits the film's content perfectly. It allows us to see the development in more detail so that the impact is bigger while still retaining its subtlety. And even with this calm pace, the film is incredibly dense in its storytelling. If you are going to watch this film, pay attention to the last hour - it's even more amazing when you take this into consideration. Even the use of music (and the music itself) is very subtle - with the exception of an awesome song sequence near the end of the film.

Koreeda's cinematography is rich: the compositions are not only beautiful but also meaningful. There are lots of subtle ways through which Koreeda sets the mood for each scene. For example, there is a scene in which the oldest boy of the family, Akira, meets a schoolgirl for the umpteenth time. Koreeda opens the scene with a shot of their legs: while the schoolgirl has proper shoes for the school outfit, Akira only wears terrible slippers. Even though the scene itself is sweeter, Koreeda tries to emphasize the difference between the two characters.

Ultimately, Hirokazu Koreeda's Nobody Knows is a film presented in the best possible way even though its content is a bit disappointing in the end: the ambition which is visible in other aspects made me think the film would go even further. But don't get me wrong: I nearly loved the film because it did affect me although its impact was hardly on the level of City of Sadness or Love Exposure.

Score: 9 out of 10

A Summer at Grandpa's

Hou Hsiao-hsien's film A Summer at Grandpa's (1984) was inspired by the childhood memories of the screenwriter Chu Tien-wen who has collaborated with Hou on almost every film he has made so far. The coming-of-age story is set into motion when a 11-year-old boy and her 4-year-old sister leave for their grandparents' house while their seriously ill mother stays at a hospital in Taipei. The film is the boy's recollection of harsh, funny and unforgettable events which took place during the visit.

It is fascinating to follow the development of the children throughout the film. They have to face hard situations they cannot comprehend yet a certain degree of maturity becomes visible in their behavior. While the flick is essentially a coming-of-age story, it doesnt avoid harder subjects which the children have to face: thematically it is surprisingly wide and satisfying. The film's narrative is a little elliptical so it might be a bit weird to watch it at first, but it is not something that is hard to get used to.

Hou's minimalistic form flourishes here more than in The Boys from Fengkuei. The revisited compositions are used well to subtly affect the viewer. He observes the small yet important moments with both honesty and passion.

In overall, A Summer at Grandpa's is a film that works well on all departments, but that doesnt mean it's a masterpiece. My fascination with Hou is becoming stronger all the time. The film is also very nostalgic for me at least: it reminds me of my own childhood vividly. Thus, I can say it is a successful film.

Score: 8 out of 10

Little Children

Todd Field's Little Children (2006) focuses on the lives of two families, a registered sex offender and an ex-cop. Their lives are tied to each other throughout the film in the "true" mosaic fashion a la Magnolia and Short Cuts. And because it's set in the American suburbs, there has to be dysfunctional families - of course. This film had all the potential to be a lot, but it becomes completely nuts at some point. One scene made me think of it as a parody, but that seems simply weird in other scenes. The narration is so off-beat, obnoxious and distracting that I really had to detach myself from the film to get through it. This detachment doesnt really fit to the film because it tries hard to be heavy drama, or so I assume. There is nothing certainly pointing at satire/parody other than the narration which - on the other hand - seems out of place. The drama had a few interesting things that could have made the film awesome, but especially the last 30 minutes just fall apart. The ending itself is weird because it doesnt feel like a closure point at all. Its form is fine though: cinematography is calm and beautiful and editing is OK. What I really have to mention, though, is Jackie Earle Haley's performance as the pedophile. He seriously nailed that role like no one else would have. What a fascinating performance!

Score: 6 out of 10