An Inn in Tokyo (Yasujiro Ozu / Japan, 1935):
(Tokyo no yado)

Chaplin and Vidor are the mainstays, and Antonioni elaborates on the industrial wasteland. Belching smokestacks and slanting power lines dot the dusty flatness, sad sack (Takeshi Sakamoto) and sons (Tomio Aoki, Takayuki Suematsu) wander through, looking for work but settling for stray mutts to trade for small change. "I wonder why you can't make it," everybody's story. Food and shelter can seldom be afforded at once, the impulsive purchase of a resplendent military cap ensures that neither can be afforded. Bumping into the old friend (Choko Iida) who owns the inn is a sporadic bit of luck, though the deeper connection is with the fellow wanderer (Yoshiko Okada) with the tiny, ailing daughter (Kazuko Ojima). "Having a mother is nice, too." "You're asking too much!" Yasujiro Ozu and the scourge of poverty, a dormant wheel on the horizon and a couple of flies struggling in the basin of water. Single parents adrift, gazing at cloudy skies and then with fond envy at the way their tykes can find joy in the void. (The kids argue over whether lions or tigers are stronger, but concur that King Kong is the strongest.) "Childhood is the best time of life." "We'll both start over." Potential romance is aborted, when they meet again he's bitterly soused and she's worn by tragedy. Hospital bills must be paid, a few finely-etched inserts (overflowing saké cup, flickering neon, fireworks) give the mind on the verge of desperation, Chishu Ryu is one of the police officers searching the shadows for the protagonist. "I wanted to help somebody" is the fugitive's plaintive explanation, Ford in The Grapes of Wrath remembers his departure. In black and white.

--- Fernando F. Croce

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