Blog 2 - Tokyo Story and The Maltese Falcon

Allowing ourselves, for just a fleeting moment, to think outside of our homogenized, sterilized and of course highly monetized American bubble, Tokyo Story is every bit as much a dense and penetrating discourse in the function of the human family as any film being produced at its time. Highly pretentious and grandiose claims (by your humble bloggist) aside, the boring little Japanese picture proves stiff competition for any film claiming to portray the ever-elusive "realism". I'm suggesting not an all-encompassing "realism", as there is little to support this argument and attempting to do so would prove not only futile, but also mind-numbingly boring and I wish to subject only my worst enemies to those kinds of musings.

Tokyo story uses the duality of a culture in the midst of massive turnover to illustrate points directly parallel to the story being told. An admittedly old and dying creed of stoic pride pitted versus the industrialized bustle of the modern age. Within this turmoil lays the story of an old Japanese couple visiting their children and grandchildren in what become a sort of swan song. They are confronted with a world with which they are haplessly unfamiliar. They are accustomed to sitting on grass mats, drinking tea, and meditating their little butts off until their inner peace is soothed to the point of a waking sleep. They wear traditional Japanese garb and speak of old times and the decaying remnants of their pasts. As this trudges along, we find the children (and especially grandchildren) completely out of tune with their aging elders. Their son is a busy doctor, desperately scratching out a living so he can live at least within the Tokyo city limits; a daughter so horribly glib and disrespectful that we cringe to even consider what kind of offspring such a creature would drop into the mix. The grandchildren are absolutely "naughty" (as their mother describes them) in the worst possible sense; completely disregarding the needs of others and absolutely, and completely selfish. It becomes abundantly clear that the children are less a product of their parents as they are of their society. Perhaps the grandchildren are too young and irresponsible to understand their shortcomings, but I can't help but believe that they are well on their way to becoming selfish, childish adults. Thus, the "realism", so to speak, is within the interaction of young and old as a tense, uncomfortable and utterly thankless exercise. The child who shows the most respect and love is not even that; she is a daughter-in-law whose husband has died. She lives in the past, and thus probably becomes most in tune with the culture and mindset of her parents-in-law. The film breaks certain rules of filmmaking that may not lead one to feel it is "real" in terms of a visual experience, but these do not take away from the central purpose as, once again, an in-depth examination of cultural turnover and the results of such relationships. The film also pays plenty of attention to the aftermath of a post-nuclear society and the various implications within the older couple's situation. They feel like holdovers, or remnants of some generation that the younger folks feel should have been swept away with the purge of "the bomb" lest they be subjected to further reminder of a sad and terrible past. In these senses, Tokyo Story accomplishes plenty in terms of those facets of reality. However, it is very boring and long.

Now, the use of the word "realism" and "classic Hollywood" in the same sentence feels like a vicious faux pas. That's not even an insult to those films as I tend to believe that in most cases, the goal of the filmmakers in early Hollywood was unrealistic cinema. These were films that were almost entirely meant for entertainment and entertainment alone; anything else was either a mistake (The Wizard of Oz) or the product of some rebellious (see:blacklisted) screenwriter (the Salt of the Earth or "enter Dalton Trumbo film here"). That being said, there was also the exhausting venture of film noir; namely, The Maltese Falcon. Noir, having its roots in German Expressionism, is a an unrepentantly visually unrealistic genre. However, like Tokyo Story, it does provide some footing in other "pockets" of realism. When you examine Hollywood films of the time period, you can easily decipher the root of the term "Hollywood Ending". They often end happily, upbeat and hopeful, regardless of genre. Noir became the direct antonym to this storytelling style, in regards to its treatment of the human condition. There is a tendency to believe in the goodness of human beings as a conquering force in many films of this era; noir takes the other root. The Maltese Falcon recognized that humans are also animals; that we are not necessarily in it for "the truth"; the truth does not buy cars, houses, and drugs. I'll spare the details for I'm running out of steam and the film is really complex; in the end, the girl was double-crossing, the bad guys are still bad and Bogey is really cool. In earnest, however, the film portrays a sad and disturbing truth about the power of money in our society and its function as "the stuff dreams are made of". It, like the fake falcon, is a hollow replacement for real happiness. In this sense, you have a realistic depiction of a love affair gone wrong, bad people who trick and do generally bad things, and a hero whose time and dedication have wrought nothing but a deeper hopelessness in humanity. Depressing as it may sound, it rings quite true.

Thus, to wrap this up, you have two kinds of "realism" in these two films. Each handles them with aplomb, though with starkly contrasting techniques.