One happy result of Yasujiro Ozu's 100th birthday anniversary in 2003 was that it sparked a retrospective of his work, jointly sponsored by the Film Society of Lincoln Center and Criterion, which has led to additional DVD releases. Long overdue, many Ozu films have been difficult to locate--a true shame since visiting even his less regarded works prove a refreshing break from frenetically paced Hollywood formula fare. Such is the case with Late Spring (Banshun)--a simple yet deceptively profound study of Japanese family life during American occupation in 1949.

A transitional stage in Japanese culture and history, the characters are silently challenged to resolve conflicts between traditional life and the modern age. For example, 1948 marks the first time that Japanese women were lawfully granted the legal right to initiate divorce and assert themselves. Supporting character Aya (Yumeji Tsukioka) illustrates this new independent woman; she has divorced over irreconcilable differences and works as a well-paid stenographer. Further establishing herself as a modern woman, Aya has furnished her Tokyo apartment with western style sofas, tables, and chairs. Ozu doesn't linger here long, however, his 50mm lens more suitably finds its home at knee level in more traditional Japanese settings.

Professor Shukichi (Chishu Ryu) is a widower that is now fully occupied with academic work. He lives comfortably with his unmarried 27-year old daughter Noriko (Setsuko Hara), who happily cooks and cares for him. Both are perfectly happy with their living arrangement, but Shukichi's sister insists that Noriko find a husband. She wonders if the nice young man working as Shukichi's assistant would make a suitable match and volunteers her matchmaking services otherwise. Shukichi tentatively approaches the subject; he knows intellectually that his daughter needs to leave the nest but also realizes how lonely and empty his life would be without her.

Noriko is even more reluctant to consider marriage. Her expressive face reveals how uncomfortable she is with the thought; she may smile and laugh when marriage talk comes up, but she is more than serious about wanting to remain with her father. Shukichi knows his daughter well; he convinces her to consider marriage by lying to her about his own impending re-marriage and dutifully lectures her about making her own life.

We realize how shocking this is for Noriko. Early in the film she runs into an old family friend, Onodera, who has remarried after the death of his wife. She good-naturedly declares his second marriage as "filthy" and he laughs along with her, but she is deadly serious. When it appears that Shukichi may indeed marry a middle-aged widow, Ozu presents a wonderful scene during a No drama that father and daughter attend. Noriko spies the prospective new wife at the play and instantly suspects this is no coincidence--her head drops in despair and the look on her faces is wondrously despondent. Ozu's trademark understated emotional content reaches its zenith in this scene.

Numerous other aspects clearly identify Late Spring as prototypical Ozu filmmaking--the low camera angles, relatively few tracking shots, "pillow shots" of Japanese landscape and icons to serve as transitions, and a great deal of ambiguity and omissions of the expected.

Ozu's narratives flow gently and simply, but they often take unexpected turns. Early on, just after Shukichi's assistant, Hattori, has been offered as a prospective husband, we see Hattori and Noriko riding bikes together toward a beach. In Hollywood, this would be a formula set-up for a budding romance, yet we soon learn that this is impossible when Noriko reveals that Hattori is long engaged to a lovely girl. But then Hattori invites Noriko to attend a musical recital with him. Could this be a prelude to romance anyway? Hollywood would certainly follow this plot formula, but that doesn't mean that Ozu will pursue this line.

Even when Noriko agrees to marry a man, who "looks like Gary Cooper," we never see him. Without visual reference, it would be easy to imagine alternative scenarios that would have Noriko changing her mind at the last minute--either to remain with her father or to seek her own independence. But such things supply much of the power and beauty in Ozu's work.

Considered the most Japanese of filmmakers, Ozu also ranks as the most universal and extremely modern. The family issues he explores in Late Spring and in his very best work like Tokyo Story hit us all powerfully at the deepest levels. They explore the great issues of Life that we gradually realize just as the father peels his apple near the end. Like Shukichi we may also find our own lives uncovered thoughtfully revealed when we allow Ozu's imagery to work its magic. As Roger Ebert once wrote, "Sooner or later, everyone who loves movies comes to Ozu." This film appropriately stands with the stronger films of his canon--a welcome respite from mindless, dispassionate cinema.