Review: Yasujirô Ozu’s The Flavor of Green Tea Over Rice on Criterion Blu-ray

Criterion’s stunning transfer and small, but substantial, array of extras should inspire a serious re-evaluation of the film.

The Flavor of Green Tea Over RiceIn mid-20th century Japan, married couples frequently spent a significant amount of time apart, not unlike Mokichi (Shin Saburi) and Taeko (Michiyo Kogure), the middle-aged couple at the center of Yasujirô Ozu’s The Flavor of Green Tea Over Rice. But their separateness from one another derives less from an adherence to cultural norms than a mutual stubbornness and refusal to compromise their deeply ingrained, class-informed attitudes. Unsurprisingly, their marriage is primarily defined by petty squabbles and white lies. While Taeko concocts an elaborate story that allows her to jet off to the spa with her friends, and later to a baseball game, Mokichi sneaks out for drinks after work with a co-worker, Noburo (Kôji Tsuruta), who soon drags him out to a pachinko parlor and bicycle races. In short, they take any excuse to be away from home, as the rare times that the couple are together typically lead to Taeko berating her husband for his boorish table manners and preference for cheap cigarettes and Mokichi respectfully taking note of his wife’s grievances, yet showing no sign of changing his own behavior.

Much of their tension stems from their disparate upbringings, as Taeko comes from a wealthy and traditional Tokyo family and Mokichi from a more restrictive rural family. Ozu further complicates the film’s notions of deeply rooted class division with the addition of the couple’s niece, Setsuko (Keiko Tsushima), who frequently visits them, and whose presence in the narrative brings to the forefront post-war Japan’s increasing social anxieties due to Westernization and the shifting gender roles that came with it. It’s her decision to bail on a meeting with a potential mate for an arranged marriage that leads to Mokichi and Taeko’s biggest argument. But while this disagreement temporarily drives a wedge between the husband and wife, Setsuko’s rebellion ultimately serves as the catalyst that shakes Mokichi and Taeko from their marital stupor, forcing them to confront their deep-seated issues.

In Ozu’s post-war films, waning traditions and weakening family ties, often due to members of the younger generation striving to claim a sense of agency, are typically presented with a tinge of melancholy or as the cause of much adversity. Here, though Setsuko is certainly a disruptive force, her youthful ideals—particularly her desire to marry for love and alack of concern for class divisions—are shown in a resoundingly positive light, not only in her influence on Mokichi, but in her deepening bond with the working-class Noburo. The egalitarian nature of their courtship is a stark contrast to Mokichi and Taeko’s relationship, suggesting the possibility both of what their marriage could be, and, perhaps, what it once was.

Advertisement

The Flavor of Green Tea Over Rice’s jubilant portrait of young love certainly hints at a brighter future for modern marriages, but Ozu eventually reveals a surprising depth of emotion and sensitivity in Mokichi and Taeko’s connection as well. When Taeko returns home after storming out on her husband days earlier, Ozu spends nearly four minutes lingering on her as she silently moves about her home in a state of rumination, growing increasingly eager for Mokichi’s return as she examines objects that remind her of him. Throughout this scene, Ozu cuts away several times to extended shots of empty spaces within the home, emphasizing Mokichi’s absence from the domestic space and the void it leaves behind for Taeko.

The dining table, which is foregrounded in numerous shots across the film and was the arena of much of the couple’s bickering, becomes the site of their reconciliation upon Mokichi’s sudden return. Realizing she misses her husband’s little eccentricities, Taeko invites Mokichi for a late-night snack, and as their maid (Yôko Kosono) is already asleep, they fumble throughout the kitchen together in a tender, humorous sequence where they function as equals for the first time in years. And, in a delicate grace note so typical of Ozu, the two sit across from one another, finally content to enjoy life’s simple pleasures (here, Mokichi’s favorite dish of green tea over rice) with one another, free of judgment and criticism.

Image/Sound

Yasujirô Ozu’s film is defined by its faces and spaces, and Criterion’s stunning transfer, sourced from Shochiku’s new 4K restoration, offers a vivid rendering of both. The image is consistently sharp, boasting strong contrast and nicely balanced by an even distribution of grain, ensuring a slight filmlike softness is retained throughout. Faces, as well as the fabrics of suits and kimonos and objects in the foreground, are particularly rich in detail. The uncompressed monaural soundtrack is evenly mixed, though its robustness is primarily noticeable in the noisy pachinko parlor or the rare, but moving, swells in Ichirô Saitô’s score.

Advertisement

Extras

This release may not come with a commentary track, but Criterion has done us one better by including a second feature-length film at no additional cost: Ozu’s delightful 1937 comedy What Did the Lady Forget? The film shares much of the same DNA as The Flavor of Green Tea Over Rice, with enough overlap in both plot and character to serve as a nice companion piece that lets one see how Ozu approached similar material before and after World War II. A new 25-minute video essay by film scholar David Bordwell offers an in-depth and enlightening breakdown of Ozu’s narrative and aesthetic strategies in this film, from the parallels between various couples and the division of men’s and women’s social worlds to food and drink-related motifs and the purpose behind Ozu’s slight and infrequent camera movements. Daniel Raim’s short, but very sweet, documentary Ozu & Noda explores the friendship and working relationship between Ozu and Kôgo Noda, his frequent screenwriting collaborator. The package is rounded out with an essay by scholar Junji Yoshida, who writes of, among other things, Ozu’s delicate balancing of class and gender concerns in the film.

Overall

Criterion’s stunning transfer and small, but substantial, array of extras should inspire a serious re-evaluation of one of Ozu’s most overlooked films.

Score: 
 Cast: Shin Saburi, Michiyo Kogure, Kôji Tsuruta, Chishû Ryû, Chikage Awashima, Keiko Tsushima, Kuniko Miyake, Eijirô Yanagi, Kôji Shitara, Yôko Kosono, Yûko Mochizuki  Director: Yasujirô Ozu  Screenwriter: Kôgo Noda, Yasujirô Ozu  Distributor: The Criterion Collection  Running Time: 116 min  Rating: NR  Year: 1952  Release Date: August 27, 2019  Buy: Video

Derek Smith

Derek Smith's writing has appeared in Tiny Mix Tapes, Apollo Guide, and Cinematic Reflections.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.