Tokyo and the world's Story

Yasujiro Ozu’s 1953 film Tokyo Story is a solemn story encompassing universal thematic concerns of family, modernity and the consequences of when these two worlds coalesce. Tokyo Story really spoke to me in the sense of experiencing that fragile balance between adult life and family. It particularly reminded me of when my grandmother died, after spending two years in a nursing home, being a mere ‘vegetable’ not recognising myself and my family when we visited, not being able to talk, move, etc – it became so depressing to visit her that I saw her every second week instead of every week. Then those two weeks became every third, and after so much work piling up, and other responsibilities, my sisters and I felt so guilty about seeing her so rarely. When she died in 2009, I couldn’t help but feel that I should have seen her more, and not have been so tied up in my own life.

In hindsight our vision is always 20/20, and we’re so much the wiser upon reflection. Tokyo Story explores the joy and grief of familial relations, and how our vision seems a bit out-of-focus in the present. I found a somewhat romanticism of the every-day in Ozu’s film, a real tenderness towards the ordinary and its fragility, being the family unit, and how this familiarity was being jeopardised by the lures modernity. I found Ozu’s low and stable ‘tatami-mat’ shots interesting in paralleling them to the narrative itself; in that the children’s perspectives are limited and unmoving, echoing the vision analogy previously mentioned.

The inevitable drift between children and their parents is poetically portrayed by Ozu. The universality of families and their problems makes audiences world-wide re-acknowledge the importance of family and the precious time we have left with them. This is simply stated in the film when the grandmother solemnly, yet realistically states, “By the time you become a doctor, I wonder if I'll still be here.”

These shifting priorities reflect the transitional ‘liminal’ period Japan was in during the 1950s, after WWII, the devastating atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945 and occupation forces retreating in 1951, leaving Japan to be an independent country in 1952. One could observe that Westernisation having introduced a new wave of modernity was a catalyst of the collapse of the previously strong family structures. This state of flux of society’s values causes earlier beliefs and values to be shifted, generating a strong sense of nostalgia of what once was. This disintegration of traditional Japanese values coincide with those of the family unit, in a state of dissolution in the face of a new world and new possibilities offered by the cosmopolitan cities of Tokyo and Osaka.

An interesting technique employed by Ozu that I find intriguing in cinema, is the use of Acousmatic sounds (sounds one hears without seeing its source) When in the village, the distant image and sound of a train was heard repeatedly, insinuating that modernity was passing the village by, and that exciting happenings were taking place elsewhere. This simple technique so poignantly emphasized the long-held traditions being disbanded and forgotten, in pursuit of a new life; in which family is no longer in the foreground.

Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead and all the things in between...

The Fountainhead, Ayn Rand’s 1943 novel and literary success having sold 6.5 million copies worldwide, has received mixed reception, what I call a ‘love it or hate it’ read. After some contemplation and deliberation, I think I can safely say that I fall into the latter category. I finished the book with difficulty, having wanting to throw it across the room with contempt and never pick it up again, but since it’s a ‘must read’ (for Engl3604 class predominantly but also one of those books you have to read to be able to comment on it at dinner parties and the like) I forced myself to finish it, and having finished scanning page 694 I then threw it across the room, followed by a deep sigh and a large mouthful of my dirty martini. Well, not really, but that was how I felt.

Let me start with Howard Roark. I perceived Roark as a vessel of Rand’s individualistic (I’ll return to Rand’s philosophy, Individualism, soon) beliefs, choosing to go through life, struggling in obscurity by uncompromising his values, artistic and personal visions. I read Roark as a mere mouthpiece for Rand, using him as a device to communicate her views and her didactic ideologies. It felt as if Rand subjected her readers to a lecture, similar to the inhabitants of Roark’s buildings living by way of the aesthetics, 'performing to the architectural aesthetics' forced into an environment and lifestyle chosen for them. The preaching-esque narrative quality pushed Rand’s ideals upon the reader without much choice, as the story was interwoven with her notions of the world. Being lectured to became exhausting and let’s be honest here, a bit boring, especially in Rand’s (sorry, Roark’s) 7 page rant in the court-room (p678). This scene reminded me of a play I wrote in high school, in which I had the protagonist ‘preach’ for an entire page, after which my teacher said ‘characters can’t talk that long, otherwise the audience gets bored. A page is too long.’ Tell that to Rand, Mr Green, tell that to Rand.

Nevertheless, Rand’s philosophical principles; Individualism and Objectivism intrigue and interest me, it was just their blatant projection in the novel that irritated me. Individualism places the individual on a pedestal, foregrounding their goals and desires, emphasizing self-reliance and independence. External factors from familiars, society or institutions such as popular mass opinions and behaviours are left by the wayside in favour of self-creation and experimentation. Throughout the book there is a battle between Individualism and Collectivism, finally 'won' by Individualism in the courtroom scene, with Roark defending the American concept of individual rights. From my perspective, individualism is such a first world construction, where egotistical viewpoints are taken up and lived by, where the individual sees themselves as the only person who matters. It is a somewhat insufferable perspective for me; I hugely dislike people who think they are above everyone else and thus why my  anger for Roark soon snowballed; I found him arrogant and very dislikeable.

As for Objectivism, in which reality exists independent of consciousness - human knowledge and values are objective, determined by the nature of reality, to be discovered by man's mind.  Objectivists believe that objective knowledge from perception through the process of concept formation and inductive and deductive logic. The proper moral purpose of one’s life is the pursuit of one’s own happiness (rational self-interest) and that the role of art in human life is to transform man’s widest metaphysical ideas, by selective reproduction of reality, into a physical form – a work of art – that he can comprehend and to which he can respond emotionally (Paraphrased from Wikipedia Objectivism (Ayn Rand) page - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Objectivism_(Ayn_Rand)) Again it is a very solitary and ego-centric stance, a selfish and self-absorbed world-view.

I found this egotistical stance and architectural career path an interesting combination, interpreting the buildings as temples of the self, and phallic extensions of either architect, endeavouring to dominant the city, and even the world, with their designs and self-image. Both Roark and and Keating made self-indulgent, egotistical claims of the world through architecture, with Keating’s classical and Roark’s modernist designs constructing their own world in which they are ‘gods’.

Rand's novel is concerned with individual-mindedness, whilst everyone else seems to be 'second-handers', depicted in a world which seems so man-made itself, which is quite fitting in the context of architect's lives. By 'man-made' I allude to the discussion in class about no 'natural' or 'accidental' elements in the novel, depicting a strange reality painted by Rand's hand. It is an unrealistic strange reality, with unidentifiable characters, justifying my lack of empathy for them and what happened in their lives.