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Cinema Ozu (26a): Raising Only Sons

Mother Otsune (l., played by Choko Iida) and only son Ryosuke as an adult (r., played by Shinichi Himori)

Feature #34:
The Only Son / Hitori musuko
(1936)
Status: fully preserved and readily available on DVD
Script: fully preserved
Prints: original negative and multiple prints survive
Region1 DVD: released today (13 July 2010) by Criterion in the Two Films by Yasujiro Ozu set

I've rewritten this article nearly four times now. I blame the pressure of it representing half of the centerpiece of this series, which was quite literally born as a result of Criterion's announcement of the DVD in the hands of many as of today. The Only Son is unique in a few ways. It is the first Ozu narrative film with sound, the most dire of his pre-war films, and the only one that marks specific years to reflect the passage of time. None of those things are why it is one of my favorite ten films I've seen in my life thus far.

The story begins in the rural town of Shinsu, just as young Ryosuke is completing his elementary schooling. A title card tells us that the year is 1923. Ryosuke is the titular only son of a widower named Otsune (Choko Iida). Otsune works in a silk factory, the principal industry of the area. They survive, but they don't have the kind of income that would be necessary to send Ryosuke off to middle and high school in Tokyo. "Ryo" tells his mother that he knows he can't go off to school.

Chishu Ryu in his earliest substantive role for Ozu as ambitious young teacher Okubo

Ryosuke's teacher Okubo (Chishu Ryu) drops by to congratulate Otsune on her very smart son (the president of his class). Mr. Okubo is also there to say goodbye, since he is moving to Tokyo because "there is no future here". He surprises Otsune by praising her for deciding to send Ryosuke off to middle school. Apparently, Ryo told his teacher the "good news" that his mother had decided to send him off. Otsune's love and devotion to her boy won't allow her to contradict him. After Mr. Okubo leaves, mother and son tearfully agree that going off to school will be best for his future.

Otsune hard at work in the silk mill to provide for her boy

We then jump ahead to 1935, but only for a couple of minutes. This is long enough for Otsune to tell a coworker that her now-adult son has gotten a good job in Tokyo, and that she hopes to visit him soon. She adds that he ought to get married soon, since he's now in his late 20's.

A train arriving Tokyo with Otsune on board

In 1936, Otsune surprises her son by coming to visit. She herself is surprised to find out that he got married without telling her, had a son some months before, and that he is now a lowly night school teacher. Ryosuke, his wife Sugiko (Yoshiko Tsubouchi) and infant son live next to a factory that makes "clang-clang" noise around the clock. That's what makes their rent so affordable. His old teacher Okubo, who Otsune so admired as an ambitious, promising man, is now a pork cutlet restaurateur on the outskirts of town. He has nearly a half dozen kids and is a shadow of what she expected.

Okubo thirteen years later, as a pork chop vendor

Ryo does his best to impress his mother and show her the sights, borrowing and scrounging money left and right. As much effort and money as he puts into it, late one night, she finally professes her disappointment in his current state. At the same time, she does not express regret that she has foregone her own life to provide for him throughout his schooling. She has become a cog in the machine of further Japanese industrialization, and knows nothing but work, with his future as the purpose that drives her onward.

Ryosuke at work

Tomibo is a troublemaker

The next day, Ryo sets out to take the family on an expensive outing. The moment they are to leave, tragedy strikes their widowed neighbor Otaka (Mitsuko Yoshikawa). Her son Tomibo (Tomio "Tokkan Kozo" Aoki) is seriously injured, and Ryo rushes to his aid. Ryo's actions at this point reveal the true value of his mother's sacrifice to raise a worthy son, and she tells him as much before leaving for home. He tries to convince her (offscreen) to stay in Tokyo with them, but she won't. Once back in Shinsu, where she now works as a cleaning woman, she tells a friend/coworker how happy she is for her son. We see only the second lowering of her guard when she walks outside and sits down, with multiple strains of exhaustion seeping out of every pore.

I haven't generally gotten quite so in-depth with the plot of many films that still survive, but there's more to The Only Son than I've telegraphed above. To say I've spoiled the movie would be like saying, "Hamlet comes home from college, finds out he's been betrayed, gets really angry, goes pretty nuts, is sent away, comes back, and then almost everyone dies" spoils Hamlet. I felt it necessary to lay some groundwork so that it would be easier to convey why the film speaks to me so deeply.

It isn't a stretch to say that my brother and I were raised as only sons. That's how it has felt, at least. What follows diverges from the mostly academic nature of what I've done thus far. The regular critical and historical analysis will follow in a "Part B" tomorrow.

I've discussed my younger brother various times in various capacities on this column. He turned 24 in April. He's three years younger than me. He's autistic. Years and years of pharmaceutical cocktails have contributed to serious obesity. The way that "normal" people look at him and react is stunning. They'll call police or security when he's doing nothing but talking loudly. To these people, it's apparently illegal to be autistic or loud or both.

He relates to Marvel Comics characters, who people look at like they're monsters. He relates to aliens in Star Trek, who have often seen the same prejudice he does daily in various series and film incarnations over the years. He loves movies, and thinks that Rain Man is hilarious. He's high-functioning, but would never be able to live on his own or in some sort of group home.

He was recently diagnosed with an extremely aggressive, cancerous tumor that, at best, has a less than 20% survival rate. He's had such an interesting, complex life that you could write a book, make a movie, and produce a TV series about him and not scratch the surface.

I went through "gifted & talented" magnet schools from kindergarten on through high school. I saw the Grand Canyon and various other National Parks at the age of 13. I got practically a full ride to Florida State University based on my ethnicity and my talent for standardized testing. I programmed movies for the campus cinema series. I became the youngest elected Board member of a not-for-profit theatre in Tallahassee just after I could legally drink. I acted in all sorts of shows, from Mamet to Sondheim to a musical version of Jane Eyre. I used that for all it was worth and then dropped out of college due to no longer being able to pay for it (or wanting to, frankly). I've lived a life that my brother never could have.

Throughout my pre-college life, I socialized with others much less than the average kid of my generation. Most of this was due to my parents strictly enforcing the idea that being at home for my brother was more important than any meaningless "goofing off". Everything, including sleep schedules, was beholden to him and his wants and needs. I complained at the time, but I always understood very clearly that he would never have the conventional "future" that I did. I would have to leave play rehearsal early, not go to get-togethers and parties, and simply not do lots of things that I wanted to. At times, it felt like I lived in a prison, since all the doors had to be locked at all times, and I couldn't just come and go as I pleased. My brother was an "only son", so far as the priorities of the household were concerned.

At the same time, I lived in a separate universe as an "only son", where my mother did and sacrificed everything she could for my education. She went into absurd amounts of debt so that I could do things like see the National Parks and go on other trips. Like Ryosuke, I made mistakes that were fixed on the back of my mother (that is to say financially). Like Ryo has in The Only Son, I've had countless moments of self-reflection where I felt like I'd amounted to nothing and wasted my mother's investment of her every effort.

My generation is often referred to as "The Millenials", but I prefer the more blunt "Gen-Demand". We have this unending hunger for more-more-more, now-now-now, and technology has made this all possible for the endless hunger of eternal children. All that's needed is the deficit spending that became all the rage in the 80's. In The Only Son, the widow's young daughter says, "Mommy, buy me a ball." My generation wants a ball, and a bag for the ball, and the digital game based on the ball, and the collectible figurine of the ball, and the card game, and on and on and on...

My mother has effectively ceded the capital of her entire life and finances to the care for and happiness of my younger brother. I've hit crises where I've consciously avoided begging her for help, knowing that it would come at my brother's expense somehow. Regardless, I have felt absolutely terrible the times that I've had no choice but to ask her to help. In some respects, I feel like my brother is Ryosuke frozen in 1923, and I've lived his (my brother's and Ryo's) life from that point on. The guilt is overwhelming.

Even if he didn't have an aggressive, advanced cancer, my brother would never have traveled the world or done 99% of the things I've done. Were my brother never born, or not have been autistic, my mother would not be who she has been nor has become. I don't believe in the concept of regret as it would apply to "if I were omnipotent and could change anything" because I'm not and no one can. I've learned to accept the adversities life throws at us and keep moving forward.

The Only Son begins with a simple quotation, "Life's tragedy begins with the bond between parent and child". It is credited to Ryosuke Akutagawa, who one would assume is the namesake of the male lead. Many of Ozu's films can be credited as being relatable to everyone, which is why he has grown so much in esteem in the States over the last few decades. Only Son in particular is the one that speaks to me most profoundly.

My brother may live a few weeks, a few months, or decades yet. That's all up in the air. Like Otsune, I don't know how my mother will cope once and if her primary driving purpose (my brother) is gone from her daily existence. She has, again like Otsune, willingly imprisoned herself in endless toil until her muscles and bones give out. My half-sister and brother-in-law visited for the first time from Europe recently and were awed at her capacity of coping with that which is her everyday world.

Throughout my life, I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen her cry. She has that hardened, grew-up-on-a-farm demeanor that foregoes outward emotional catharsis in favor of holding it together and taking care of everyone. I'm most cheaply bought emotionally by films that feature actors like Choko Iida (or Kathy Bates) in roles that remind me of my mother. There are films that become part of our lives, and there are those that feel as if they'd been ripped from our souls. Watching them lifts us off the ground, to somewhere between our cinema of choice and the heavens. For me, that is The Only Son, and quite frankly, almost the entire surviving filmography of Yasujiro Ozu.

Tomorrow I'll jump through the historical and analytical hoops as always. That stuff didn't really fit with where this piece ended up going.

Cinema Ozu is a limited-run series of articles about the career and impact of Japanese filmmaker Yasujiro Ozu. My primary intent is to chronicle my own journey through his films, a fair number of which I have seen, but even more of which I have not. The most essential research tools I have used are David Bordwell's book Ozu and the Poetics of Cinema and definitive Ozu fansite "Ozu-san".

The series is also timed to celebrate the July 2010 U.S. release of The Only Son and There Was a Father as a DVD double-set by The Criterion Collection. You can find all entries in Cinema Ozu here. New to the series? It's best to start from the beginning.