[苦笑] The bitter Kodak smile in Ozu Yasujiro’s films
I have always thought that the word 苦笑 [kushou] means (by dictionary definition and popular usage):
To smile at something that is bitter to you and look bitter while you smile.
But after watching a dozen films by Ozu Yasujiro (not all in one go but stretched over the space of several years), I am beginning to think that there is another level of kushou. A more subtle kind perhaps. It is namely:
To smile at something that is bitter to you and not look bitter while you smile.
For some reason, I have only spotted that smile in Japanese films so far. You will know that smile instinctively once you have watched enough of them (whether they are directed by Ozu or not, for his influence is lasting and widespread). It is the Kodak smile that you usually only see in advertisements of toothpaste, shampoo, cosmetics or the like. If a shot of the smile were taken out of the context of the film, you might even be fooled into thinking that the smile was induced by joy. But that smile always appears in some tragic context.
The first time I saw it was in Tokyo Monogatari (1953). It was a scene where an old couple visits their daughter-in-law, Noriko. Their son had died some eight years ago and Noriko, by her own choice, never remarried. She keeps to her own way in a rather depressing flat and has a clerical job to support herself. Her in-laws say to her, “The world is full of not very nice things, is it not?” And she smiles and nods. That is the Kodak smile that I speak of. It struck me that although they are talking about how the world is not a very nice place, her smile seems to say otherwise, as though the world is not just a not very nice place after all and there is more to the world than just being not a very nice place, and what that “something more” may be is unspoken and can only be guessed at from her smile.
More recently I also watched Uwasa no Onna (1954). It was a scene where mother and daughter discuss how this world is full of suffering and how things usually do not turn out to be the way you want. It was the same Kodak smile that appears on the mother’s face as she says that.
You see that Kodak smile in films other than those by Ozu. One example would be The Hidden Blade (2004) by Yamada Yoji. The scenario goes like this: A samurai’s wife sacrifices herself knowing that her sacrifice will be in vain. Another samurai (who sympathizes with her) says to her that it is foolish to sacrifice herself for nothing, but she says nothing and only responds with that Kodak smile.
Another example I can think would be Fukasaku Kinji’s Omocha (1999), in which a young girl who is soon to debut as a geisha visits her secret crush at his workplace and smiles that Kodak smile as she looks back at him (who did not know she was visiting) with yearning as she leaves.
I think of that Kodak smile as a window to a mode of life that is very different from the American mode. In America, the underlying worldview is that everyone deserves to be happy and there is something wrong with you if you are not happy like everyone else. The mode of life in the films of Ozu is just the opposite. It accepts that life is 80%-90% suffering and the heroes in the films of Ozu are those choose to live in a slower tempo of emotional life. They are not in a hurry to move away from the past. They are not in a hurry to fall in and out of love. They are not in a hurry to head for the easy way out. They are not in a hurry to fall for shallow excitement or instant happiness (whatever “happiness” means). They are not in a hurry to be “cool”.
I really like the films of Ozu. I really do. Some people may think of him as dated and his characters old-fashioned, but I have to agree with what one of his characters says in The Munetaka Sisters (1950): What is new is not like the length of fashionable skirt – shorter this year and longer next year; what is new is what never becomes old.
that last quote was really nice. it’s referring to what is style and somehow eternal. I haven’t watched only but very few asian films, but I can understand your fascination about their spirit. They are down to earth and they value sadness as much as happiness, because without sadness you can’t feel really happy when something joyous happens. Think from what west people and from what east people are fascinated by. The first value a lot jewels and cars -shiny and ‘seem-to-be-eternal’ things) and the latters the beauty of nature, hence something fragile and ephemeral (at least until recently before money corrupted the ideals of the masses)…
I know, it’s double post but I just finished a rewatch of 5cm per second. In the end scene tohno sees that Akari didn’t wait to see him back and so he turns, smiles and goes on. Is it this kind of smile you mean?
Er… I think I should qualify the part “it accepts that life is 80%-90% suffering” by adding that (as far as I could make out) there is no mention of what the remaining 10%-20% is or may be in that line of thinking. What that remaining 10-20% is or may be is left unsaid and no guarantee of happiness whatsoever is made.
I think there is something that is inherently different about Japanese culture, at least from previous generations. In the West, it tends to fall towards the ideals of pursuing utter happiness. While in Japanese culture, there is solemn acceptance that sadness is a part of your life. I think that is why people from Western culture are perhaps perplexed, as well as fascinated by this aspect in culture which they may find mysterious. I remember, Film Critic, Roger Ebert, who himself is a fan of Ozu Yasujiro, while reviewing a Japanese film, once saying he couldn’t quite understand why the Japanese have a culture of reservation even if it meant the loss of their own happiness.
DeepBlue:
That’s a dead-on observation about the films of Ozu. I think the quote really fits in with Ozu’s 1950 film “The Munetaka Sisters” in particular. In the story, a woman was abused by her husband who later dropped dead, and a very nice man whom she used to date before her marriage and who had never forgotten her offered her marriage. She refused and gave a rather abstract explanation for her refusal (I will leave that up to you to explore). Strange to say, there is something dignified about her reservation to not jump at immediate happiness. It is probably just the sort of culture of reservation and restraint that is very different from the “hook-up” cultures we now seem to have. “The Munetaka Sisters” is no chick flick, but you will seldom see the inner strength of women more celebrated in other films.
I really like Ozu. I really do. There is nothing that makes me happier than a quiet weekend at home drinking green tea and watching his films.