Café Lumière

Café Lumière

3.0 out of 53.0 out of 53.0 out of 53.0 out of 53.0 out of 53.0

Comments Comments (0)

Inspired by the centenary of Japanese master filmmaker Yasujirô Ozu’s birth, Hou Hsiao-hsien’s poetic Café Lumière charts the uneasy maturation of a Japanese reporter named Yoko (Yo Hitoto) as she researches an article on real-life Taiwanese musician Jiang Wenye and copes with an unexpected pregnancy—and looming single-motherhood—that’s frowned upon by her traditional parents. The film, set in Tokyo and its surrounding suburbs, marks Hou’s first movie situated outside of his native Taiwan, and the new locale proves well-suited to yet another one of the director’s languorous ruminations on the relationship between the inescapable past, hesitant present, and daunting future. Plentiful shots of passing commuter trains recall Ozu’s Tokyo Story, while the intimate scenes between Yoko and her quietly disapproving father (who’s struggling to accept Yoko’s desire for a non-nuclear family) are reminiscent of Late Autumn, yet Café Lumière—its title a reference to the Lumière brothers’ seminal short film of a train entering a station—is distinctly Hou’s. As is his hallmark, the director’s formal rigorousness takes the form of measured, protracted takes in which the camera detachedly lingers on its protagonists (or, at times, on mundane, uninhabited scenery), and both the general absence of a score and Mark Lee Ping-bin’s delicate, naturalistic cinematography—a far cry from his color-saturated work on Hou’s Millennium Mambo—create a mood of enveloping serenity.

The image of Yoko’s stepmother working in the kitchen, tightly framed by multiple doorways, highlights the constricting conventional role of a homemaker that Yoko, by choosing to have her child out of wedlock, yearns to reject, and a scene in which the two women have to borrow sake and glasses from Yoko’s next-door neighbor—a request that makes the stepmother, but not Yoko, feel ashamed—elucidates the widening generational gap between the girl and her parents. For Hou, the past and present are constantly engaged in a tug-of-war, and the director captures the oppressive, inexorable march of time weighing down upon Yoko and her friend—a bookstore owner named Hajime (Tadanobu Asano, star of Takashi Miike’s Ichi the Killer)—through a series of stunning sequences: Yoko’s dream about a child’s face turning first wrinkly and then to ice (a nightmare of impending maternity begat by her long-ago reading of Maurice Sendak’s Outside Over There); the vision of a pocket watch set against the front windshield of a moving train; and a computer’s digital clock screensaver seen at the train station Yoko used to depart from as a young student. In the same vein, Hajime’s computer-generated artwork, featuring a fetal version of himself encased in a womb of locomotives, visualizes the inescapable omnipresence of time’s progression, and the young man’s hobby of dutifully recording train noises—an attempt to sonically capture the essence of life in motion—ultimately becomes an understated metaphor for Hou’s tender, observant, contemplative cinema.


Given the generally disappointing treatment Hou’s films have received in Region 1, Wellspring’s new Café Lumière DVD is, though not perfect, nonetheless something to celebrate. The 1.81:1 anamorphic widescreen transfer is consistently beautiful, accurately reproducing Hou’s muted colors, flat blacks, and naturally lit on-location cinematography. Some minor edge enhancement pops up now and again, but more problematic is the preponderance of motion artifacting during Hou’s deliberate camera pans, a shortcoming all-too-noticeable during many of the shots of moving trains. A perfectly suitable stereo soundtrack is the only audio option.


Despite the film’s extremely limited theatrical lifespan, Hou aficionados will be excited to find some great supplements on this DVD release. "Metro Lumière" is an hour-long documentary that provides a captivating look at the making of the film and its relationship to Ozu’s works, mixing interview footage (with Hou himself) with substantial comparisons between sequences in Café Lumière and segments of Ozu’s Equinox Flower and An Autumn Afternoon. Not surprisingly given his films’ brilliance, Hou proves both fascinating and shrewdly self-analytical, especially during his discussion of his experience working in Japan (rather than in his native Taiwan, where all of his previous films were shot). Also included are separate 10-minute interviews with Hou, actor Tadanobu Asano, and actress Yo Hitoto, with the latter two providing interesting (if brief) insights into Hou’s collaborative methods with actors, their own impressions of working with the director, and a strange anecdote about Hou barking at a dog. A theatrical trailer is also thrown in for good measure.


Hou doing Ozu-what more could a cineaste want?

Image 3.0 out of 5 3.0 out of 5 3.0 out of 5 3.0 out of 5 3.0 out of 5

Sound 3.0 out of 5 3.0 out of 5 3.0 out of 5 3.0 out of 5 3.0 out of 5

Extras 3.0 out of 5 3.0 out of 5 3.0 out of 5 3.0 out of 5 3.0 out of 5

Overall 3.0 out of 5 3.0 out of 5 3.0 out of 5 3.0 out of 5 3.0 out of 5

  • DVD-Video
  • Single-Layer Disc
  • Region 1
  • Aspect Ratio
  • 1.81:1 Anamorphic Widescreen
  • Dolby Digital Formats
  • Japanese 2.0 Stereo
  • DTS
  • None
  • Subtitles & Captions
  • English Subtitles
  • Special Features
  • "Metro Lumiere" documentary
  • Interview with Yo Hitoto
  • Interview with Tadanobu Asano
  • Interview with Hou Hsiao-hsien
  • Buy
    Release Date
    December 27, 2005
    104 min
    Hou Hsiao-hsien
    Hou Hsiao-hsien, T'ien-wen Chu
    Yo Hitoto, Tadanobu Asano, Masato Hagiwara, Kimiko Yo, Nenji Kobayashi