The work of Yasujirō Ozu continues to stand as some of the most impressive in the history of cinema – who else can profess to having as prolific a career as him, and possibly never having produced a film that anyone can call poorly-made? Towards the end of his career, he made a series of films that united several of the themes that fascinated him the most – romance, family, culture and the great inevitability of death, all of which tended to be woven into his films in some way, with various other themes included to create vivid tapestries of life, which is perhaps the best descriptor for Ozu’s work in general. His penultimate film was The End of Summer (Japanese: 小早川家の秋), which is yet another masterpiece hailing from a filmmaker who dealt in them with remarkable consistency. There are some ideas in here that are borrowed from the various demarcated stages of his career, as well as a few that indicate the director was not resting on his laurels, and once again going in search of news way of representing the human condition, the most fundamental aspect of his career, and the one consistent element that runs through each one of his films. The End of Summer is such an effortlessly charming film – heartfelt, funny and brimming with the warmth that only Ozu was capable of conveying through his work, there’s very little doubt that even during his final years, the director was firing on all cylinders, producing incredible work that spoke not only to his own era, but to future generations as well, which is undeniably one of the main reasons why Ozu is one of the most important filmmakers of his or any era, and the epitome of a cinematic master.

What is often most striking about Ozu’s work was that despite entire worlds existing within the confines of his films, he keeps everything so fundamentally simple, never venturing too far off-course in an attempt to assert some unfeasible ambition that would’ve easily distracted from his more humanistic core as a filmmaker. Ozu’s intentions were always so clear, especially in his later years, when it became obvious that he was winding down and in perpetual search of inventive new ways to convey the intricacies of the human condition. This often manifested in many of his films carrying a few major themes that they follow directly, without too much deviation. In The End of Summer, the central themes are romance and ageing, which are normally seen as distinct narrative entities, but come together wonderfully in this film, with the director weaving them together to form a multifaceted portrait of a group of individuals dealing with their own personal quandaries while being part of some larger entity, which in itself carries its own challenges. Family was always fundamental to Ozu’s films, and in The End of Summer, relationships are foregrounded quite significantly, to the point where every other theme is siphoned through the lens of familial perspectives – and for anyone who is familiar with later Ozu, this isn’t at all unexpected. Some have criticized Ozu for making the same film, only differing in plot mechanics – but this does a great disservice to the fact that, while he may have had a tendency to remain within the confines of similar themes, he always brought new perspectives to well-taut ideas, giving them new life and providing them with the depth and detail they often needed. The End of Summer is a remarkable work precisely because it sees the director exploring familiar themes in a way that is both comforting and incredibly poignant, which makes it even more compelling, and yet another incredibly strong effort from the filmmaker.

One of the more interesting conversations Ozu often has in his films are those centred around intergenerational conflict, and considering The End of Summer is a film that prioritizes discourse around families, with the focus being a representative of the older generation, its easy to see how he was attempting to look at contemporary life from an ageing perspective. This is a common trait in Japanese cinema at the time – the postwar period quite significant shifted mentalities and caused modernity to overtake tradition in ways that were often seen as unfortunate, but which Ozu is always happy to embrace, even if he does so through positioning more cynical characters in the central roles. In The End of Summer, romance is most prominent – matchmakers and arranged marriages were still quite prominent but were declining in the middle of the twentieth century, undeniably a result of more modern approaches to love. This is a central theme in this film, which sees a patriarch struggling with the idea of his daughters not being married (or in the case of his daughter-in-law, being a lifelong widow, despite being very young), and goes so far as to arrange for them to casually meet specific men who he feels would be good fits for them. Obviously, as is the case with these kinds of stories, this doesn’t turn out to be very successful (Ozu himself looked at similar themes prior to this, particularly in Equinox Flower, which focused on the rebellion that comes when a young woman refused to take part in arranged marriage), and most of the impact comes from the two sparring sides realizing how their own interests got in the way of the other’s happiness, and working to remedy it before it drives them apart. The End of Summer also has some wonderful commentary on the idea of finding love after tragedy – there are two widowed characters in the film, both of them being portrayed as people who don’t need to recede to the status of having lost their spouses – and Ozu provides some really tender drama in exploring how both are given a second chance at love, especially when death is such a pervasive theme in the lives of these people.

I’ve written previously about how An Autumn Afternoon (Ozu’s final film) carried a sombre tone, since its status as his ultimate work lingered over it, which wasn’t helped by the haunting ending. This has lead to fervent debate about whether Ozu knew it would be his last film, or if it was just another one of his poetic endings that just happened to be his swan song. The End of Summer makes this slightly more clear, since the tone of the film is one of the melancholic realizations that we’re not immortal – this is a film clearly made by someone who knew that he was at the end of his life, albeit not in a way that appears to be either hurrying to tie up the loose ends of a long career, or an attempt to convey some deep sadness at one’s impending demise. Rather, he dabbles in some notable themes that were persistent in much of the work he produced in his last decade, such as the central character being someone who is at the end of something, whether it be his professional career, or his entire life. We’re given a wonderful protagonist in the form of Kohayagawa Manbei, played masterfully by Ganjirō Nakamura, who decides to rebel against the traditional notions of being an elderly widower, and chooses to instead pursue a romance with someone from his youth. In this regard, The End of Summer shows how Ozu was always optimistic, even when dealing with some more serious themes – the death of Manbei’s wife lingers quite heavily throughout the film, and impacts all of the characters, with many of them also having experienced death in different ways, either directly or by mere proximity. Yet, this film never feels dour – and even in the third act, where Manbei finally succumbs to his ailments and the conversation shifts towards more heartbreaking discourse, Ozu keeps it relatively light and optimistic. Even the final shot – a group of crows coalescing on some gravestones – isn’t all that bleak, since these birds are seen as symbols of divine guidance in Japanese culture.  The End of Summer is filled with symbolism and allegory, all of which points towards some deeper meaning concealed in his achingly beautiful story and the powerful images that occur alongside it.

All of the elements that went into Ozu’s reputation as a cinematic master are present in The End of Summer, which blends delicate comedy with tender drama to create a truly compelling story of family and the limits we will go to in order to preserve our relationships, even if it means changing our own values. Like many of the director’s works, it is a slow-burning piece of cinema that doesn’t proclaim any direct audacity, but rather promises to be a solid work of drama that is propelled by a strong but simple story, and a lot of heart. This approach nearly always works for Ozu, whose wonderful ability to get to the heart of existence has made him one of the most ardent observers of the human condition, an artist who could paint the most vivid portraits of humanity in the most gorgeous colours, and comments on our collective idiosyncrasies in a way that was both thought-provoking and thoroughly entertaining. The fact that The End of Summer occurred towards the end of his career is a constant factor in looking at this film, especially in the moments that deal with death, either when a character comes to term with their own mortality and the volatility of life, or when simply ruminating on the people who they’ve lost as time has progressed. It’s a beautiful work that conveys a keen sense of heartfulness that never quite abates, instead venturing towards a kind of intricate social commentary that finds buoyancy in even the most bleak situations. It’s magnificent work from a truly astounding director, whose understanding of the world he occupied remains unrivalled to this very moment, and continues to be entirely unprecedented.