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Floating Weeds is a classic of Japanese cinema and the work of revered director Yasujiro Ozu. It deals with universal issues of daily living and family relationships.
Historical Background: Yasujiro Ozu (1903-1963) was one of the leading Japanese directors, making fifty-four films beginning with silents in 1927 and culminating with Autumn Afternoon, one year before his death. Ozu’s body of work is unique in several respects. Even more than other directors, Ozu epitomizes Fassbinder’s famous comment, “Every decent director has only one subject, and finally only makes the same film over and over again.” Ozu films are family dramas, usually involving two generations, and explore the emotions and relationships amongst the individuals through everyday events such as marriage and death, falling in love, illness and care-giving. There is a bit of irony in Ozu’s persistent family orientation, since he was a life-long bachelor. Ozu was a quiet Buddhist and highly moralistic in his viewpoint, but a inveterate chain-smoker.
Ozu worked with the same actors and crew members over and over again producing variations of the same basic film each time. For Western viewers (who love to harp on the inadequacy of the occasional Hollywood remake), it is difficult to understand the logic of multiple films all covering the same general thematic territory, but it is a treasured aspect of oriental cultures. Japanese printmakers, for example, often make the same piece over and over again with just subtle variations on the theme. In my own experience with the arts, the only body of works that I have approached in similar fashion are the Gilbert & Sullivan operettas. Over the years, I have seen all of them at least once and some in as many as, perhaps, 6-8 different productions. The joy of seeing the latest production then derives mainly from comparing the current rendition with previous ones. It’s a different kind of artistic enjoyment. Ozu’s films are best approached in that way. Ozu is probably best known in America for Tokyo Story (1953), often considered his finest film.
Although several later Ozu films were remakes of earlier ones, they were not always designated as such. Late Autumn (1960), for example, was a slightly modified remake of Late Spring (1949). Even the films that introduced novel plot elements often repeated scenes from earlier films. Floating Weeds, however, was a remake in the most straight forward sense of Ozu’s 1934 silent classic, A Story of Floating Weeds. The storyline of Floating Weeds very closely follows that of the original, though the scene has been shifted from the mountains to a seaside village and the protagonist's name has been changed from Kihachi to Komajuro. The original was also a bit more tragic than the remake. The two versions can be purchased as a package in a Special Edition Criterion DVD release for those so inclined. The phrase “floating weeds” is a familiar Japanese metaphor for itinerant actors.
The Story: Komajuro (Ganjiro Nakamura) is the leader and lead actor of the Kabuki traveling theater troupe that performs traditional theater pieces in provincial villages. Their practice is to perform in a particular village until interest wanes and then move on to another locale. As the film opens, viewers observe the troupe arriving by boat on a muggy summer day. After disembarking, the troupe parades through the town to drum up interest and one member later passes out flyers advertising their opening that evening. The kindly theater owner (Chishu Ryu) allows them the use of the cramped space above the theater for their quarters and make-up tables.
Besides Komajuro, the troupe includes two actresses and several actors. One of the actresses, Sumiko (Machiko Kyo), is Komajuro's young mistress, but a rather irascible and jealous type. The youngest actress, Kayo (Ayako Wakao) is more demure and appealing. This is not Komajuro’s first visit to this village. Many years ago, he had an affair with a young woman of the town, Oyoshi (Haruko Sugimura), and she bore his son. Oyoshi operates a Saki bar in town. The son, Kiyoshi (Hiroshi Kawaguchi), has grown into a strapping young man, at least a half-foot taller than his father. Kiyoshi has a bright future, having just graduated from high school and working in the post office for the summer before starting college. Kiyoshi is unaware that Komajuro is his father. Komajuro has sent money regularly to pay for Kiyoshi’s schooling but has made precious few visits, having last been in town some twelve years earlier during the Japanese surrender at the end of World War II. Komajuro and Oyoshi have maintained the fiction to Kiyoshi that Komajuro is his uncle.
Komajuro is anxious to spend time with his son – fishing and playing chess – but does not want the boy attending the theater. Komajuro is ashamed of his profession and his somewhat second-rate skills as an actor. He wants his son to make something better of himself. It also doesn’t hurt that Komajuro and Oyoshi have a nice, mutually respectful and caring relationship, although it is no longer sexual or overtly romantic.
The principal subplot in Floating Weeds revolves around the lesser actors' frantic pursuit of women. They peak out through the curtains between acts looking for comely prospects. They flirt disingenuously in the Saki bars. One fellow makes the unwise choice of flirting with the barber’s daughter and soon finds himself in the precarious circumstance of getting a shave from her tough-minded mother.
The main plot thickens when Sumiko’s jealous instincts are aroused by Komajuro’s frequent absence from the troupe’s quarters. Snooping around a bit, she uncovers, from two of the older members of the troupe, the story of Komajuro’s earlier fling and the son that resulted. Some combination of irrational jealousy (over a long past romance) and envy (that Komajuro might briefly enjoy the benefits of “family”) drives Sumiko wild. She pays a surprise visit to Oyoshi’s Saki bar to confront her lover, the mother of his son, and even the son. Komajuro is forced to drag her away and the two get into a heated argument while standing under overhanging eaves on opposite sides of a roadway during a torrential downpour.
Not to be deterred, Sumiko later bribes the beautiful Kayo to seduce young Kiyoshi. With beauty and comeliness to spare, she is easily able to accomplish her assignment. When Komajuro discovers Kayo and Kiyoshi together, he soon unravels the plot. He angrily orders Sumiko to get out of his sight. Komajuro’s woes are further complicated by financial crisis. The plays are drawing poorly and the troupe will likely have to be disbanded. Komajuro is comforted in his distress by Oyoshi and the two discuss his possibly remaining and settling down with her and their son.
Kiyoshi and Kayo, however, are genuinely falling in love. Even the admission of her initial devious motivation fails to dent Kiyoshi’s ardor for her. Sumiko’s vengefulness has struck home hard because Kayo, a mere actress and, in Komajuro’s view, a “slut” diminishes the likelihood of Kiyoshi making something worthwhile of himself. With a young wife, he will have to forgo college. Komajuro angrily denounces Kiyoshi and is even harsher with Kayo. Interesting, Kiyoshi respectfully accepts his “uncle’s” hostility so long as it is directed at himself, but will not tolerate him abusing Kayo.
SPOILERS AHEAD: SKIP TO THEMES IF YOU PLAN TO SEE THIS FILM
Oyoshi hopes to quell Kiyoshi’s anger toward Komajuro by disclosing the great secret: that Komajuro is his father rather than his uncle. Kiyoshi, though comprehending the point, refuses to acknowledge Komajuro as his father, continuing to call him “uncle.” Komajuro, recognizing that he has not earned the right to behave as father to Kiyoshi, decides that it's time for him to once again move on. Kayo, out of her sense of loyalty to her master, begs to go with him. Touched by this show of loyalty, Komajuro accepts her worthiness of his son’s love and leaves her to the care of Oyoshi and Kiyoshi.
At the docks, Komajuro, now alone, encounters Sumiko, also alone. He is embittered toward her but she offers him a light for his cigarette. She inquires about his plans and points out her usefulness for approaching the impresario in the next town. Resignedly, Komajuro recognizes that he and Sumiko are two of a kind – two floating weeds. It is their mutual destiny to remain together in hostile symbiosis.
Themes: There are a number of themes in Floating Weeds. In my view, first and foremost among these is the stark limitations of authentic communication imposed by Japanese preoccupation with formalities. Ozu reflects with a quiet wisdom characters evasively talking past one another, with little genuine emotion or self revelation. The characters posture and speak platitudes, but seldom touch one another’s souls.
A second theme is the fruitlessness of trying to make our children fulfill our own unrealized dreams. Our children will have their own dreams to chase. They deserve that right. Komajuro discovered that his son had a mind of his own and would be better able to shape his own life than could Komajuro.
A third point of Floating Weeds is the observations that theater life is not really so glamorous as it looks from the outside. It is stressful needing to please the audience each night and scurrying about to makes ends meet. We see in Komajuro’s physical and mental weariness the effects of years of floating like a weed on the stream of life.
Lastly, Floating Weeds projects a sense of fate, acting on and limiting the lives of the various characters. Kiyoshi is doomed to rise little further than his father because, like his father, he “moves quickly” when it comes to woman. Then, later, the film closes with the fate motif – the sense that Komajuro’s destiny is already determined and cannot be changed at this stage in his life. He will always be a floating weed.
Production Values: By in large, both the plot and the thematic material of Floating Weeds is the stuff of soap operas. The events are everyday kinds of happenings and the conflicts the ordinary frictions that occur within families. The dialog is sparse and singularly trite. What most struck me about the interpersonal interactions is that these people mostly talk past one another. They speak in clichés without ever directly addressing underlying emotions or getting to genuine communication. How much of this is specific to this set of characters and how much if characteristic of Japanese culture in general is something that I cannot tell, since I have too little personal experience with Japanese people. The relationships are largely based on posturing and formalities. This failure of real communication is emphasized by one of the hallmark Ozu camera techniques: the characters don’t actually face one another while they speak. We observe the conversation from over-the-shoulder of one character and then the other. We see one perspective and then the other but the two perspectives never meet at a midpoint.
Another interesting camera technique used consistently by Ozu is to film his characters from a low camera angle – even when the character is seated, Japanese-style, on a mat. The result is to give a sense of importance to the ordinary events of daily living by elevating the stature of the characters. We look up to them as though they were larger than life. Ozu also uses mainly static shots rather than pans or tracking shots. This is what is known as traditional Japanese theater style. The result is a deadening of action but an invitation for viewers to assume a more meditative approach to experiencing the events of the film.
One especially well-designed scene occurs during an argument between Komajuro and Sumiko where the two are standing across the street from one another, separated by a pounding rainstorm. They yell at one another across an unbreachable gap, each bound by their own perspective. The scenes invested in the subplot of the womanizing extras seemed to me to miss their mark. There was humor obviously intended, but none of it hit much higher than sophomoric fraternity nonsense – just desperate, horny guys prepared to say or do anything for a bit of whoppie.
The musical score for Floating Weeds was produced by Kojun Saito. Its cheerful and nostalgic quality appropriately evoked the angst of deep emotions that develop within family units. I found the sets of Floating Weeds rather unconvincing. They all looked very much like rooms, facades, and backdrops set up on a stage. This reaction might reflect my lack of familiarity with real-life Japanese venues.
Ozu casts his films with rather ordinary looking folks, in the manner of European realism, rather than the beautiful people that we’re accustomed to in Western films. I suppose that’s both good and bad, depending on viewer perspective. The lead actor, Ganjiro Nakamura, bears a striking resemblance to Edward G. Robinson. I thought his performance convincing but not particularly engaging. His other credits included Kwaidan (1964). Machiko Kyo might be the most famous of the performers with a major role in Floating Weeds. She appeared in such Japanese classics as Rashômon (1950), Ugetsu (1953), Gate of Hell (1953), and The Teahouse of the August Moon (1956). She delivered a very strong performance as the witchy Sumiko. Haruko Sugimura, who played Oyoshi, also starred in Tokyo Story (1953). She gave a very empathetic performance.
Bottom-Line: I enjoyed this film, but apparently not nearly as much as other reviewers, who generally heap this film with praise. Some reviewers suggest that some Western viewers may be put off by the slow pace of the film, but I didn’t find it too slow paced for my taste. My reservations were trite dialogue, the weak and ineffective subplot, and phony looking sets. The level of intensity of Sumiko’s jealousy seemed a stretch to me, given that she was dealing with a relationship that her lover had long before she had even met him. There were three strong performances by the ladies (Kyo, Sugimura, and Wakao) but none by the men. On the other hand, the themes were meaningful, the camera techniques distinctive and effective, and the musical score was lilting. I’d like to give this film 3.5 stars but I’ll round it to four out of deference to its status as a classic. Floating Weeds is in Japanese with English subtitles and has a running time of 113 minutes.
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