I was very pleased to see the film Tokyo Sonata which was really a breath of fresh air after a harsh winter in Paris that seemed to have lasted an eternity.  Of course, critics are comparing the film to those of Yasujiro Ozu, especially Tokyo Story.  I had the opportunity to study Ozu in a course at NYU during an Ozu craze in New York City, inspired by an international conference at Columbia University (including directors and people who have worked with Ozu) and I soaked up the majority of his films at the Walter Reade Theater at the Lincoln Center.  Bref, it was a remarkable experience at a very unremarkable time in my life.  Regardless, the comparison of Tokyo Sonata to Ozu is correct in the architectural sense (our ability to situate ourselves in the home, in the street, in the city) and the plot maneuvering around the intimate center of a Japanese family.

But in the cathartic sense, I see rare mention of the Ingmar Bergman film Autumn Sonata which is one of my favorite films that, again, critics rarely mention.  Ingrid Bergman (gasp) and Liv Ulman (gasp)!  Speaking of Tokyo Sonata, a lot of people seem to be annoyed by the long catharsis towards the end of the film but I found it very quenching…I wanted an explosion and I wanted it to be Bergman-esque!  With all the “piano films” in existence (and I’m not including the one with Isabelle Huppert or the one with Holly Hunter), Tokyo Sonata and Autumn Sonata have moved me the most for their acute selection of score: Tokyo selects Debussy and Autumn plays Chopin.  Rarely does music move me to tears…in these films the piano is as moving as a dead blue wale on the shore, the sound is so massive and provacative that you cannot ignore it and you cannot pretend to be anything but moved.