Like many Ozu films, 'Passing Fancy' is about the difficulties of father-son relationships, set in a small Japanese town, mostly passing with the intimate indoor conversations of characters, which framed in a certain way manages to reveal great depth. In this particular instance, in a one room house with few furnishings and damaged walls, the father and son are very poor, but the arrival of an unknown young female to the town sparks a love interest.
It's a pity a film with so much great dialogue is silent, but the technology may not have been available to them at the time in Japan, and once you get used to the rhythm (which only takes a scene or two) it is not something that bothers you. Kihachi is a loveable fool, who smiles and charms easily, but drinks excessively, skips work often, and slowly reveals a raw unattractive side with insensitivity towards his son. You will cheer him on one minute, and despise him the next. It's a film about the difficulties of money, but even more so about responsibility - of being a father, educating our children well, and in the way we conduct relationships.
Ozu films are always associated with home and family and friends but the strong feelings he generates seem rarely to dip into sentimentality. Often it is the small details that stand out - holding that frame of the suburban background just an extra second or two after after the character exits - a small touch, but one that allows time for reflection. Or in the scene where the child slaps the father, how he scrunches up his pants before doing so, the tiniest gesture to reveal he has doubts or concerns about doing it. Ozu trusts the tiny details - blink and you'll miss them - to reveal the big, which makes his films feel both humble and meaningful at the same time. They are wise, not showy.
The third act and particularly the very end is the only part of this film melodramatic enough to feel written for a movie, but it redeems itself by rounding off a great joke and finishing as it began - with a dose of humour amid an otherwise dramatic tale.
It's a pity a film with so much great dialogue is silent, but the technology may not have been available to them at the time in Japan, and once you get used to the rhythm (which only takes a scene or two) it is not something that bothers you. Kihachi is a loveable fool, who smiles and charms easily, but drinks excessively, skips work often, and slowly reveals a raw unattractive side with insensitivity towards his son. You will cheer him on one minute, and despise him the next. It's a film about the difficulties of money, but even more so about responsibility - of being a father, educating our children well, and in the way we conduct relationships.
Ozu films are always associated with home and family and friends but the strong feelings he generates seem rarely to dip into sentimentality. Often it is the small details that stand out - holding that frame of the suburban background just an extra second or two after after the character exits - a small touch, but one that allows time for reflection. Or in the scene where the child slaps the father, how he scrunches up his pants before doing so, the tiniest gesture to reveal he has doubts or concerns about doing it. Ozu trusts the tiny details - blink and you'll miss them - to reveal the big, which makes his films feel both humble and meaningful at the same time. They are wise, not showy.
The third act and particularly the very end is the only part of this film melodramatic enough to feel written for a movie, but it redeems itself by rounding off a great joke and finishing as it began - with a dose of humour amid an otherwise dramatic tale.