“GREETINGS AND FARTS”

By Raymond Benson

Master filmmaker Yasujiro Ozu’s late-period picture, Good Morning (Ohayō), is a curious, but amusing, slice-of-life portrait of a suburban neighborhood in contemporary (circa 1959) Japan. Ozu, mostly known for the gendai-geki film genre, i.e., modern dramas about family life and social conditions, also made a few comedies. He was a genius at depicting relationships between parents and children (Tokyo Story, 1953, is arguably his most admirable work), and Good Morning presents something of a parable about how a couple of young schoolboys influence an entire community of suspicious and gossipy housewives and lackadaisical “salary men” husbands.

A Western audience will deem the comedy subtle; cultural differences between East and West, especially when it comes to bathroom humor, decidedly determine how funny someone will think Good Morning really is. There are a lot of fart jokes in the film. In fact, Ozu uses farting as a way that characters communicate, especially the children. The schoolboys assign status to how easily one can blow wind by pushing an imaginary button on a forehead. Inability to produce a toot results in minor ostracization. It must be said that the children’s farts don’t sound like the real thing—they are high-pitched and somewhat musical in tone.

The adults, on the other hand, produce lower-toned flatulence that is more realistic. In their case, the noises are often confused with real words. In one scene, a man is dressing for the day and pleasantly lets two or three bursts fly. Each time, his wife enters from the other room and asks, “Did you call?” He shakes his head no, and she leaves. It happens again and she returns. “Did you say something?”

The story, such as it is, concerns two brothers—probably about nine and six years of age—who decide to go on a speaking strike until their parents buy a new television set (all the rage, apparently, in those days). The boys are also rebelling against the grown-ups’ use of meaningless greetings to fill up air space—“Good morning,” “How are you,” “I’m fine,” “Nice day,” etc.

At the same time, the adult women in the block gossip and imagine faults in their neighbors, all based on misunderstandings and a lack of real communication—which is what Ozu’s film is really about. He seems to be saying that in order for everyone to get along in a modern society, we need to say what’s truthfully on our minds.

Shot in gorgeous Technicolor, Good Morning differs from Ozu’s more solemn works that have a restrained editorial pace and meditational camera work. This one is lively, is accompanied by a “funny” musical score, and features many scenes outdoors. The cast is fine, especially the two boys (played by Shitara Koji and Masahiko Shimazu).

The Criterion Collection’s new Blu-ray features a 4K digital restoration (upgraded from the label’s previous DVD release) and an uncompressed monaural soundtrack. It looks terrific.

Perhaps more significant, though, is that Criterion has chosen to include as a supplement Ozu’s acclaimed silent film from 1932, I Was Born, But… Sound films came late to Japan because of the benshi—narrators who performed during screenings of silent pictures, commenting on the film’s narrative. They had a powerful hold on the industry. Criterion had previously released this title as part of an Eclipse box set of early Ozu titles, but here they’ve upgraded the movie as a Blu-ray. Also a comedy, Born deals with similar social mores. In this case, the boys influence how their father deals with his boss, and also how they relate to their school mate, the boss’ son. For my money, despite being a silent picture, I Was Born, But… is better than Good Morning!

Other supplements include a portion of a “lost” Ozu silent short from 1929, A Straightforward Boy; a new interview with film scholar David Bordwell about the films; and a fascinating video essay on Ozu’s use of humor by critic David Cairns. Jonathan Rosenbaum’s essay adorns the inner booklet.

Good Morning is a worthwhile release from Criterion, especially for aficionados of Japanese cinema. One viewing, and your perception of farting will be changed forever.

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