At this point, watching another Ozu film about a mundane family, the strained relationship between father and daughter and a young woman who resists marriage should be a bore. We have seen it before. But it just isn’t. It’s heartbreaking, contemplative and beautifully made.
The use of colour, something I haven’t seen before in an Ozu film, brings a vibrancy and life to the film. It also cements it in its setting. The film feels in a tactile sense like Japan in the 1960s; memories of a now distant war linger as the new generation moves ahead, forging a new Capitalist Japan. But for Ozu, this is all simply a backdrop to the real story, that of a father, his family, and the tragedy of letting go.
A fine film, and a fitting end to the career of one of the greatest filmmakers the world has ever known.