Rare is the occasion on which a director gets to remake one of his or her own films. Be it to put a different spin on the same premise (Alfred Hitchcock and The Man Who Knew Too Much) or out of Hollywood's typical moneymaking zeal (George Sluizer and The Vanishing), it's always interesting to see these filmmakers tackle their work a second time.
But it was artistic ambitions that fueled Japanese director Yasujiro Ozu's decision to create both 1934's A Story of Floating Weeds and its 1959 counterpart, simply titled Floating Weeds. These pictures were made in different times under different circumstances, though it's a testament to Ozu's talent that he comes through with his message just as strongly during each moment at bat.
The 1934 film centers on Kihachi (Takeshi Sakamoto) and the troupe of traveling actors he leads. Their latest stop brings them to a village that holds special value for Kihachi. Twenty years prior, he fell in love with a local woman (Chouko Iida) and fathered a child before having to hit the road once again. Now that he's back in town, though, Kihachi intends on making up for lost time and reconnecting with his now college-aged son (Hideo Mitsui). But this doesn't sit well with actress Otaka (Rieko Yagumo), who sets about on a mission of sabotage by paying a fellow performer (Yoshiko Tsubouchi) to woo Kihachi's son away from him. The 1959 picture pretty much follows the exact same story, though it's the way that Ozu goes about telling it that gives the film its own distinctive quality.
Ozu has been one of the most renowned foreign filmmakers of all time, thanks to his simple yet effective stories about everyday human life. They're not bleak yet not overly sentimentalized; his tales are true slices of life, finding the world around us nothing short of fascinating. It's this pure and innocent approach that makes A Story of Floating Weeds such a treat to watch. Ozu's storytelling is realistic but comes across with just the right amount of dramatic oomph. He doesn't force viewers to become involved with the characters but lets their own back stories do the work. Ozu really puts the "human" in "human drama" here, respecting his characters and allowing them enough freedom to breathe and come alive. The result is a picture you can't help but become absorbed in, thanks not just to the tender writing but also the delicate performances. A Story of Floating Weeds is a silent film, and considering the tendency of actors in this era to play up their emotions, this cast pulled their jobs off just right (especially Sakamoto's turn as Kihachi). Combine that with some simple but effective cinematography, and this simple story of learning to let go emerges as a near pitch-perfect experience.
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