As is the case with many incredibly influential and prolific filmmakers, choosing a standout in the career of Yasujirō Ozu’s storied career is not always easy, even if certain films tend to be discussed more often than others. Some people present the argument that The Only Son (Japanese: 一人息子) is his greatest work, as well as claiming that he peaked with this film, and everything he did afterwards stood firmly in the shadow of his work here. I tend to think that he continued to do brilliant work well into his career and that this wasn’t his apex, but rather one of his greatest works, and perhaps his very first true masterpiece, which is a more level-headed argument that takes into account a broader range of films and styles that Ozu would explore throughout his career, and the fact that he was never one to rest on his laurels, especially not those earned from comparatively early work. The Only Son is still an exceptional piece of storytelling, focusing on the relationship between a mother and her adult son over a few days, carefully piecing together a few interactions throughout a weekend they spend with one another, the son providing his mother with valuable insights into his life, which stirs a wealth of emotions in the woman who sacrificed everything she gave to give him a life. It is a landmark achievement in Ozu’s career – it was his very first attempt at a sound film (and we can sense the swell of pride he must have felt upon seeing the credit for this being a “talkie”), as well as one of his most intimate and personal films. A poignant and powerful examination of the human condition, which is what Ozu usually did best, and the roots of which we find embedded deep within this film, which is a celebratory, compelling examination of the wider world, as seen through the perspective of one of our most sincere humanistic filmmakers, and a truly extraordinary talent doing some of his most important and impactful work.

Those who tend to suggest that The Only Son is Ozu’s most influential film usually point to the fact that this was his first opportunity to explore various themes that would become the defining of his career. Among the most prominent themes in this film are that of family and the connection formed between humans, whether related or not. Those who tend to be unconverted when it comes to this particular director will often claim that he made films around the same subject for his entire career – but the rebuttal is always that, much like love or death, there are so many ways to explore family, which is as extensive and interminable a subject as any other, which is why this is such a profoundly moving piece. The particular focus here is the relationship between a mother and her son, which is not unprecedented in Ozu’s career, but certainly, one that he did not explore as often as others, which makes The Only Son so engaging, perhaps more than many of his films. The narrative is extremely simple – it focuses on the interactions between two people, a mother who dedicated her entire life to raising her son, who has done his best to be a success but has faltered in ways that his mother will never admit, but which is secretly a source of a lot of inner turmoil. The sign of a truly great storyteller is the ability to take a specific kind of character (in this case a mother) and make every viewer not only feel sympathy but genuinely understand every emotion she conveys on screen, which is precisely why this film strikes such an emotional chord, despite being extremely simple and perhaps even thread-bare in terms of a thorough narrative (to its credit, the film is driven more by mood than it is a particular plot, something that would still be a factor in Ozu’s later work, although to a more subtle degree), which is one of the many reasons it feels like such an engaging and meaningful work, in terms of how it handles the material.

So many of Ozu’s films are defined by the actors – we usually pay so much attention to how he frames scenes, and what he chooses to capture on film, that we often don’t give enough praise to the people who occupy the screen. It is rare to find a single role that has been miscast, which is primarily because he wrote films explicitly for his regular team of collaborators, with his various regular actors consistently bringing amazing performances that are evocative, meaningful and deeply poetic, even when they are at their most simple. In the case of The Only Son, the film is anchored by two performances in particular – Shinichi Himori is the titular character, a young man who genuinely tries his best to lead a life that is adherent to his upbringing and principles, while Iida Chōko plays his mother, who has devoted her life to ensuring that he is prepared for the future, only to discover that he has inadvertently squandered the lessons she had hoped to teach him through the sacrifices she made to give him a good life. Iida is heartbreaking – her performance is a delicate balance of honest emotions and stunning expressivity, with every moment she is on screen being meaningful and filled with depth. Many draw focus to the final scene of the film, where her upbeat, charming demeanour momentarily disappears as she succumbs to her sadness in a rare moment of vulnerability, her face contorted into a pure expression of sorrow and despair, which is only one of many extraordinary moments that set the tone for this film, and show exactly what Ozu was trying to achieve, which was a poetic examination of the simplest aspects of life, as seen through the eyes of those who may not be particularly memorable on a grander scale, but still have so much nuance and complexity when their stories are curated by as empathetic a director as Ozu, who is always capable of capturing true, unfurnished emotion.

Experiencing an Ozu film is best described as the art of watching life go by, which is a common thread throughout all of his films. Many of his contemporaries tended to go in pursue of original, bespoke stories, traversing several genres, eras and styles – there is validity in versatility, but some filmmakers do their best work when exploring the subjects they know, in the manner that most comfortable to them. It isn’t a matter of trying to discern what differentiates these films on a narrative or visual level, since they often cover very similar subjects, and certain compositions and setpieces are identical (with Ozu occasionally referencing his previous work, or outright remaking scenes or entire films as he matured into his craft and saw new sides to oler material, a fascinating endeavour), but they all have their unique qualities, which assist immensely in giving this film such a distinctive appearance and sense of direction. The Only Son is a quiet, meditative exercise in watching life transpire over a short period, each moment is filled with emotions as he examines the relationship between the two main characters, as well as their interactions with a range of other individuals, all of whom are fascinating and bring so much complexity to a film that exists primarily as a tapestry of moments, a spirited and meaningful examination of the human condition in its purest form. When a director has this much empathy and admiration for the lives of ordinary people and their journeys, there isn’t any need for narratives that exceed these boundaries, especially since there is something so deeply profound about a film that can achieve this without needing to resort to high-concept storytelling, but rather just exist as a simple, straightforward depiction of life as it is, celebrated and critiqued by one of history’s finest filmmakers.

The debate around what singular work is best representative of Ozu’s expansive and iconic career continues to be extremely contentious and difficult to conclude since there are arguments for multiple works. Tokyo Story is his most affecting, whereas Good Morning is his most endearing. Late Spring has some of his most resonant content, while Equinox Flower sees the director playfully subverting his style in creative ways. However, The Only Son is most certainly amongst all of these films, which is hardly surprising considering this represented a major shift in Ozu’s career, both technically (as it was his first sound film) and thematically, with his ideas being extremely resonant and beautiful in ways that are sometimes difficult to comprehend, Beautifully poetic, deeply moving and never anything less than thoroughly resonant, the film is a familiar but captivating story of the relationship between two people who happen to be mother and son, observing their daily interactions as they come to realize that life is not necessarily easy for either of them, both having made sacrifices and holding onto ambitions that never came to fruition, which causes an abundance of tension and creates a truly heartbreaking but also deeply empathetic depiction of the human condition, something that Ozu perfected throughout his career and was more than willing to explore in as much detail as necessary. It is difficult to not feel something when watching The Only Son, which is a short but impactful piece of emotionally charged drama, the kind that may sometimes be rough around the edges but lays the groundwork for a quarter of a century of incredible work by a director that would redefine not only Japanese cinema but the entire art of filmmaking as a whole.