Okasan, 1952
[Mother]
Okasan
opens to the voice of a reflective young woman named Toshiko (Kyôko
Kagawa) who amusedly comments on her assiduous and determined mother
Masako's (Kinuyo Tanaka) idiosyncratic preference for short brooms
as she observes her mother meticulously sweeping the floors of their
modest family home. In a poor, working class Tokyo suburb in 1950,
the proud and uncomplaining Fukuharas persevere in the hopes of making
a better life for their children (and extended family) and their future.
Every morning, after finishing the housework, Masako wheels an awkward,
portable cart down the street to sell candy at a sidewalk makeshift
concession stand. Her husband, the gentle and hardworking Ryosuke
(Masao Mishima), has found temporary employment as a security guard
at a factory, patiently waiting for the government reappropriation
laws to be enacted so that the family may reclaim their property seized
during the war and reopen their laundry and clothes dyeing shop. Overworked
and plagued with ill health, Ryosuke has enlisted the aid of an affable
and trustworthy family friend returning from a Soviet internment camp
named Kimura (Daisuke Katô), whom the children affectionately
call Mr. POW, to help him run the business. The Fukuharas' grown son,
Susumu (Akihiko Katayama), has been sent to a sanitarium after developing
a recurrent ailment from working at an upholstery shop. Their youngest
child, Chako (Keiko Enonami), is reluctantly adjusting to life with
the shared attention of her parents after the Fukuharas take in her
cousin, Tetsuo, whose widowed mother, Masako's sister Noriko (Chieko
Nakakita), has been repatriated from Manchuria and is preoccupied
with examinations for her vocational training, and is unable to provide
for her young son. However, despite the family's diligence and tenacity
in rebuilding their lives in the wake of a devastating national turmoil,
the Fukuwaras inevitably encounter greater disappointment, hopelessness,
and personal tragedy.
Mikio Naruse presents a compassionate,
resigned, and poignant examination of human struggle, perseverance,
and sacrifice in Okasan. Juxtaposing
the innocence and optimism of youth with the austerity of life in
postwar Japan, Naruse reflects the gradual erosion of hope in the
face of change and uncertainty: the town festivals that coincide with
episodes of illness and death in the family; the Fukuharas' fond reminiscence
of their hectic life as young parents with a newly opened business,
as Ryosuke looks forward to the laundry shop reopening despite his
debilitating illness; Chako's picnic at an amusement park that exacerbates
Masako's motion sickness. From the opening shot of Toshiko's affectionate
voice-over against the image of the resourceful Masako, arched forward,
cleaning the house, Naruse conveys the understated and bittersweet
image of his archetypal, resilient heroine - an unsentimental, yet
graceful and reverent portrait of a tenacious, aging woman struggling
- and literally yielding - against the interminable burden of poverty,
heartache, disillusionment, and unrealized dreams.
© Acquarello 2002. All rights reserved.
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On
a bleak and cold morning in November 1946, a group of weary and destitute
repatriates from Indochina, insufficiently dressed for the brisk northern
weather, disembarks from a Japanese port with their meager belongings
for an ill-planned and unassisted government resettlement after the
war. Among the returning nationals is Yukiko (Hideko Takamine), a young
woman who had traveled abroad to work as a typist for an expedition
team stationed in Indochina by the Forest Ministry. Having initially
left the country in order to escape the inappropriate conduct and violation
of a morally reprehensible and opportunistic relative named Iba (Isao
Yamagata), Yukiko is reluctant to return home and instead, visits the
residence of an agricultural surveyor named Kengo Tomioka (Masayuki
Mori), a former colleague from Indochina with whom she had a love affair.
However, Yukiko's longed for reunion with her lover is marked by disillusionment
as the emotionally inscrutable Kengo is reluctant to rekindle their
romantic relationship, explaining that his wife is ill and cannot leave
her. Once ambitious and idealistic, Kengo now seems resigned and embittered,
working in a string of odd jobs and a marginal enterprise on the sale
of firewood. Nevertheless, Yukiko continues to persevere in the relationship
despite Kengo's half-hearted commitment, settling in a modest residence
near the red-light district where she scrapes a meager existence as
a euphemistic "hostess" for American servicemen, one of the
few proliferating commerces under occupied Japan. But as Yukiko continues
her pattern of self-sacrifice for her fickle and ungrateful lover,
the prospect for rebuilding a life together in postwar Japan proves
ever-increasingly untenable.
Every
afternoon, a young widow named Keiko (Hideko Takamine) walks from
her modest apartment to her job as a senior hostess in a Ginza bar.
Compassionate and courteous, she is affectionately called "mama" by
the younger hostesses who see her graciousness and charm as an unattainable
ideal. At a glance, the beautiful and demure Keiko, impeccably dressed
in a traditional kimono, seems unsuited for her profession. The bar
manager, Kenichi (Tatsuya Nakadai) further supports her virtuous reputation
by recounting an episode, revealed in confidence, of Keiko's pleas
to the burial priest to have her love letter placed with the body
of her late husband. Kenichi is devoted to Keiko, but keeps his respectful
distance and instead, has a meaningless affair with a brash, ambitious
young barmaid named Junko (Reiko Dan). The times are rapidly changing,
and although other bars have resorted to unpalatable tactics in order
to attract business in the increasingly competitive market, Keiko
refuses to succumb to the trend of resorting to modern attire or welcoming
the unwanted advances of patrons. As Keiko narrates with dispassionate
reflection the daily routine of a bar hostess, it is clear that her
dignity and perseverance separate her from the other hostesses in
the Ginza district: "Around midnight, Tokyo's 16,000 bar women go
home. The best go home by car. Second-rate ones by streetcar. The
worst go home with their customers." However, at the relative "old
age" of thirty and burdened with increasing financial responsibilities
for her aging mother and hapless brother, Keiko is at a personal and
professional crossroads. To open her own bar requires financial assistance
from clients who, in turn, undoubtedly expect reprehensible favors
in return. To remarry is to break her solemn vow to her beloved husband.