Yesterday the Criterion Collection on Hulu announced that they were having a 101 Days of Summer summer cinema event.
Basically, every day a new film from the Criterion Collection will be available for free on Hulu Some of these films are not available through more conventional means. This is a fantastic opportunity.
The film that was technically chosen was Harold Lloyd’s Speedy. But when I noticed that one of the six bonus titles for the initial launch was Yasujiro Ozu’s A Hen in the Wind (which is not available on DVD), I knew which film I was going to watch this afternoon.
I discovered Ozu in a college film class, and unlike much modern media, Ozu makes me long for the ability to turn off all of my distractions and just live in his moments for an hour and half. For Ozu I am always willing to settle into the quiet rhythms of the ordinary people he captures on film.
A Hen in the Wind is about a woman named Tokiko waiting for her soldier husband to return home after WWII. She is struggling to make ends meet on her own when her young son, Hiroshi, falls ill and she cannot pay his hospital bill. Tokiko, desperate, goes to a brothel for one night and prostitutes herself to earn the money. The rest of the film deals with her struggling to deal with her decision and the angry, sad and violent reactions of her husband when he comes home only to find out what happened.
There were many things that struck me about this movie, including the silent observations the film makes about domestic violence and the role of women in the household. It also shows us a human double-standard; Tokiko’s husband verbally and physically abuses her for her perceived betrayal, but he actively goes out of his way to help another prostitute find a respectable job.
But while the film follows Tokiko and her decisions, the audience sees very little of her internal thoughts. Two moments in particular contrasted for me.
First, when Tokiko realizes her son is ill, she immediately runs to the doctor. Her grip on her son is desperate and uncomfortable but she does not stop to adjust him. Ozu, who favors static camera shots, tracks Tokiko on her mad dash to the hospital.
But later, when Tokiko is struggling to justify her decisions to her best friend, she doesn’t even mention the instinctive concern for her son that I saw on screen. Instead, Tokiko justifies her actions as always intended for her husband. She imagines a vision of his perfect reunion with her small room tidy and homey, full of the thing she didn’t sell and a healthy boy for her husband to be proud of.
The contrast between the instinctive defense of her little boy and her later daydreams of the husband she feels guilts towards fascinates me. From the moment little Hiroshi comes home from the hospital, him importance fades to the background until the final emotional climax in which he is conspicuously absent. It’s almost as if Tokiko is crushed under the double weight of being the perfect wife and mother and she needs the stability of a supportive husband before she can refocus on her son.
