The Only Son (1936)

 Yasujiro Ozu's "The Only Son"

Every time I sit down to watch a Yasujiro Ozu film, I feel apprehensions. This is not due to any sort of dislike for Ozu. On the contrary, I have liked every film he's done. Rather, I always get antsy about the style of film I will be sitting through. The slow pace, the moments of quiet, the unassuming dialogue. I'm not sure why I feel this way, because I normally don't feel that way with those kinds of films. However, while watching one of this films, Ozu somehow manages to make me feel emotional and choked up. It really sneaks up on you, too. When I sat down to watch his 1936 film "The Only Son," I went in with an incorrect attitude of "let's get this over with" and left the viewing feeling....well, that only feeling you get when you feel somehow both utter love and complete emptiness at the same time.

"The Only Son" is Ozu's first ever sound production and centers on a single mother in rural Japan who works hard to make sure her son is well taken care of. She sends him to middle school in Tokyo to live a better life and receive an education. 13 years later, she arrives in Tokyo to see her son for the first time since she sent him away. Much to her surprise, he is now married with a child. Even more to her surprise, he is not a huge success and well-established like she hoped he would be. Rather, he is a night teacher. She spends several days with him and the two of them discuss how disappointing it is that he did not acquire what he set out to. 

Ozu somehow manages to capture the complexity of familial drama with such utter simplicity. In "The Only Son," Ozu masterfully iterates the emotional dimension between parent and child. As a parent, you completely compromise yourself for your child and do everything in your power to ensure their future and prosperity, even at the expense of your own. As a child to a parent, you want to succeed and prosper for their sake. However, Ozu's quiet rendering of this universal relationship reveals a detractor: modernity. Because of the economic necessity, along with the competitive industrialization of urban living, it has become harder to really prosper in a way that you would like to. The son moving to Tokyo was thought to have put him in the best position to succeed, since Tokyo lies to center of industry. However, due to the abundant population and competition taking place, it turned out to be harder than expected. This sense of modern living only created the conflict and tension between the expectation of the parent and the reality for the child.

I feel as though anyone with a parent would have an emotional reaction to this film. I feel a sense of connection to it because I too had a similar experience. Growing up, my parents did everything to ensure that I had a good education and potential for a prosperous future. They made so many sacrifices for me. As a child, I always thought to myself, "I will reward their sacrifices by becoming successful," much like the son in the film did. However, now that I am in my 30s and a full adult, my professional success did not pan out like I thought it would. I have a steady job, but live pay check to pay check with my family (which is also similar to the son in the film). I too share the same sense of melancholy that the son does, in that I feel a sense of guilt over not being the success I promised myself I would be for my parents. To this day, I still have those feelings that I somehow let my parents down. All of this to say, "The Only Son" really hit me in the gut and Ozu somehow reached into my own subconscious and pulled back the curtain to my own existential familial anxiety. I'm sure the film also resonates with many others for this same reason.

Once again. Ozu managed to lull me into a sense of vulnerability and then deliver an utter emotional gut punch. So far with Ozu's filmography, I have had the same exact experiences. I go into the film apprehensive, expecting something dull and benign. His films are very slow paced, very quiet, and very still. This stillness eventually leads to devastating emotional impacts unexpectedly. They creep on you. There is far more of Ozu's filmography for me to watch, and I need to remember how much Ozu sees right into the human experience and is able to communicate that experience so quietly.