There's something about Ozu's knack for achieving a depth of insight and emotional resonance through highly distinctive formal precision and a seemingly effortless delicacy of touch that makes me think he was one of the finest, most unique directors of all time. Although Floating Weeds deals with violent emotions - expressed even physically, not a common sight in an Ozu film -, serenity is the prevailing feeling the viewer is left with, stemming from the characters' world-weary resignation to the compromises, the disappointments, and the fleeting joys of life.

Tongue-in-cheek, it disembowels the conventions of the 'Evil Dead'-type of horror stories and, surprisingly, makes for a frightening self-reflexive indictment of the audiences' thirst for human blood onscreen - all the while masked as silly entertainment.

Majestic, dead-serious epic about innate decency and innate treachery in intelligent species. Character interaction betrays not a hint of foolishness - they all survived devastating tragedies and still manage to go on, even if unable to be completely happy or carefree again. A summer blockbuster tinged with melancholy.