Sunday, October 28, 2007

http://www.seenandheardfilms.com

Tokyo Story

Tokyo Story has been acclaimed as truly "Japanese" film, keeping true to the conventions of traditional Japanese travel narratives, while also being the marker of new traditions in film. Tokyo Story is a depiction of the banal, a representation of the day-to-day, a narrative of the unremarkable.

What is so special about a film focused the banal?

Japanese cinema was predominantly unknown outside of Asia until the release of Rashomon (1953), a film that received international acclaim during its time and to this day influences film across the world. This film helped lift Japan from its "post war" period. What had emerged from the period of cinema to follow, including Tokyo Story, is recognised as landmarks in cinema's history. Tokyo Story had made such a prominent mark upon cinema as a film making use of the long shot, a film consisting of shots in which the camera barely moves, and fewer shots than the conventional Hollywood film.

In Tokyo Story, the camera, in many of the film's scenes, remains still and just below eye level. As a result, scenes consist of one shot in which characters leave and enter, and within these shots, we see very little physical movement. Characters sit and converse in scenes, rarely do they move, and when they do, they move by train, a symbol used repeatedly in cinema – in this instance, the train is used as a nod to the motif in Japanese art of the traveller, who is typically seen in the undertaking of their journey as separating from they group to which they belong. Long shots in cinema are considered to be the convention in cinema that closely represents reality. In reality, we are not exposed to what we see and feel through a series of images composed by seamless editing; instead, we see life from our seats, as we see it in Tokyo Story. Also in Hollywood cinema, the transition between scenes is always without the mundane – there is no need to wait for the next anticipated action, it is delivered to the viewer immediately. This does not occur in reality or in Tokyo Story.

Not only is the film banal in its aesthetic, but in terms of narrative, patience in its audience is highly recommended. Much of the film's dialogue is polite exchanges shared between characters. Audiences are not explicitly exposed to the feelings of the characters on screen, which in a typical mainstream film they would become very familiar, we remain – politely – distant. The story of distance between parents and children told in this film (reportedly a common theme in Ozu's oeuvre) is felt between audiences and the film.

Telling stories of the banal in film is a revolutionary step: film has its origins in the spectacular, the novelty of seeing something on screen was once a very, very special affair. Early films that were recognised as spectacles ranged from images as simple as the shots of people moving in and out of a warehouse, a recording of an exploding wall played in reverse to the electrocution of an elephant. Each of these attracted audiences simply because they were part of the spectacle of film. To transform film to a medium in which reality can be accurately depicted is to transform the medium into a recognisable form of art.

The following sources were used for research:

  • The Story of Film by Mark Cousins, Pavillion, 2006
  • Travel Toward and Away: Frustration and Journey in Tokyo Story by Linda Ehrlich from Yasujiro Ozu's Tokyo Story (edited by David Desser), Cambridge University Press, 1997
  • History of Film bu David Parkinson, Thames and Hudson, 1995
  • Real toys - Toccata for Toy Trains

    Looking at this film feels, to me, like looking at a representation of a representation, but simultaneously, the film is also a representation of invention, the invention to which I refer being the toy. The film opens with a blurred close-up of a train filled with candy, moved in a forward direction by a giant hand that enters the shot. The film is established as most definitely being about toy trains – and no other kind. This toy train represents an actual train, but in itself and on film, is clearly not. In itself, the train being filled with candy makes clear that it is a piece of design that is not for travel. It is transparent, without moving parts, and is filled with brightly coloured edibles. On film, it is made clear to the audience that we are to think of this as a toy and not a train when the hand enters to move it forward.

    These toy trains, however, even though are evidently toys, more closely resemble actual trains. An education-film style voiceover can be heard: "This is a film about toy trains. These are real toys, not scale models." This makes clear that the film is not focused on trains as a modern creation; instead, the focus is on the abstraction of such an invention. The narrator's statement "these are real toys" suggests that the focus is in fact on the toys themselves, as a legitimate creation. To further emphasise this sentiment, the narrator says "we have lost the knack of making real toys."

    The narrator goes on to say that older toys are of a "direct and unembarrassed manner", that the pleasure derived from these toys is different to the pleasure derived from toys that are more like replicas of the invention on which they are modelled. This suggests that Charles and Ray Eames had an intention to focus on the creations based on another creation – what perhaps fascinated them was the architecture of the idea of a train. A toy, based on the idea of a train, communicating the idea of a train, without actually being a train – while still being an invention itself.

    The film's introduction as a celebratory display of toy trains – one toy sits upon a revolver to be displayed to the audience. Simultaneously, the narrator speaks of the tradition of old toys - "what is wood is wood, what is tin is tin, what is cast is beautifully cast." This sentiment highlights the appreciation of the design of these items. What is to follow later is something we, as students of this subject, have become quite accustomed to – the cityscape. In the filmic sense, Toccata for Toy Trains bears many similarities to the cityscape films, in that like Berlin, Symphony of a Great City is a collection of city images set to a symphony, the Eames cityscape is set to a toccata. Visually, and in meaning, Charles and Ray Eames' version of the cityscape in this film is far from what we have been accustomed to.

    In some ways in this film, we are to use our imagination as would someone playing with the toy, but in many ways, we are not. We engage with the cityscape as a cityscape, in that we imagine what we see on screen to be functioning cityscape, however, with the entrance of the hand in the beginning of the film, and the continual reminder by the narrator, we the audience are prompted to view the toy trains as toy trains – in this cityscape, what is wood is wood, what is tin is tin, and what is cast is beautifully cast.

    Piccadilly

    The relationship between celebrity and the public in Piccadilly shares a great deal with the film's relationship with its audience. Our gaze in the film shifts from character to character (namely Mabel and Shosho) depending on their own celebrity status – the unfolding of this narrative is much like the search for gossip, and as a way of establishing a narrative in film, is to say the least an intriguing one.

    The film's narrative is established through gossip. The film's first shot depicts two women discussing Vic and Mabel, the "talk of the town". One woman is shown telling this to the other. This, as an opening to the film, engages the audience through positioning them as the listener in this conversation. These characters are established from a distance – even before we have seen Vic and Mabel on screen, they become an object of interest. The introduction of these characters, through the fashion of gossip, indicates to the audience their potential interest to them. Our eyes are placed on Vic and Mabel as the pair to watch – and soon, when this is shown to be untrue, the narrative takes a step further in its development.

    Our gaze upon Vic and Mabel is first established by shots of them dancing alone on the dance floor. Previously, we are shown shots of a hugely populated dance floor. In a silent film, establishing characters on screen without spoken dialogue relies heavily upon images. This is such an example. When we are shown Shosho for the first time, she is treated by the camera with an intimacy that no character in the film receives, and one that is unusual for film at the time. The emulation of the hand-held camera "look" would have been atypical for pieces of cinema of this calibre, and so would have marked the audience's view of Shosho profoundly. As we are shown the women surrounding her, many women populating a single shot, we are shown that she is special, and through the hypnotised expressions they hold, we are shown that she is exotic.

    Exchanges that take place in the film behind closed doors are the film's scenes of high drama – romances ending, romances flourishing, the intensity of Shosho's rivalry with Mabel – are contrasted to scenes in which there are many. The audience are made to feel as though they are insiders to gossip – witnessing affairs between those who are gossiped about, the celebrities, affairs that are not visible from the outside.

    In continuing with the film's representation of celebrity characters as individuals rather than one of the many, Shosho's ethnicity acts as a marker to single her out from the crowd. In the scene in which she dances for the public in her exotic costume, though the shot is populated by many, the audience's gaze is directed towards Shosho. However, having many within the shot and Shosho in the centre implies that she is public property.

    Piccadilly is a strange natured film. Heavily focused on celebrity, the film indulges its audience in the kind of fascination they would have with the celebrity in the everyday – a distant one, one with an eagerness for access through gossip – while engaging them with the intimacy of the celebrities' everyday. The audience is allowed to break through the barrier of privacy in this film, and as a result Shosho becomes a prize of exploitation.