On Friday I watched The Sting and yesterday (Saturday) I watched Tokyo Story. Here are my reviews for them that I already posted to Letterboxd.
'Work is its own cure. You have to
like it better than being loved.'
- Marge Piercy
An argument art for arts sake in the shape of a heist film? I can't be bothered to go further with that argument.
(I feel a strong kinship with Paul Newman in his opening scene. The bit where he's in the space on the floor between the wall and the bed. The contrast between that and the Paul Newman at the end of the film gives me hope that everything will be alright in life. Maybe.)
(I'm glad that the 'black widow' character 'got some' from Robert Redford before she died. She didn't try very hard to kill him though. Just walked very slowly up to him. So all I can deduce is that she was still in a Robert Redford-induced stupor. I would be too. She should have kept her mind clear and stayed away from him. Or just let that other assassin get him. But I guess Robert Redford is just too hot. I get it. I really do.)
(I was really nervous about the guy who had the stuck-on beard. I convinced myself that there was going to be a critical moment in the plot where his beard falls off and ruins the entire sting. Just imagine *guys beard falls off* *Robert Shaw's eyes grow wide* *slow motion scene*. I don't know. There's a reason I wasn't born to write period heist pieces in the 1970s and am instead a 27-year-old writing this terrible review on a Sunday evening after having a beer-induced hour-long nap because 'one small pint' turned into several. But maybe this is my Paul Newman moment and I'm about to pull off the greatest work of my career. Maybe.)
"What are you going to be when you grow up?"
I convinced myself I was "into" art house cinema when I was 13 or 15 I can't remember. I think I watched two or four films before I realised I liked the idea that I would be into art house cinema more than actually watching art house cinema.
The reason I say this is because I nearly watched Tokyo story at that age. And I'm glad I didn't. I doubt it would have had the same impact if I was watching it in 20 minute chunks and then playing Minecraft instead. Or spending the duration poorly screencapping "good quotes" that would get me a lot of clout on my Tumblr. Or watching it on some poor quality illegal streaming website on my overheating laptop.
And I wouldn't have got it anyway. And not just because I was a porn-addled teenage idiot.
No, it's because I still lived with my parents. I might have thought they were wrong about everything - but I still saw them every day. We still ate meals together. There was no geographical separation to speak of.
I some times think that some of the saddest aspects of life are only explainable by time. This is what I felt after watching Tokyo story.
Its like the story of Joni Mitchell's Both Sides Now - that critics derided her because they couldn't imagine that a 20-something would have been able to experience all that she was writing about. But time proved them wrong when Joni Mitchell sung the same song 20 years later, and 20 years after that, and it only grew in its potency.
Tokyo Story takes its time - sure. But there isn't any other way it could have approached the subject of generational divide. Everyone - the old couple visiting tokyo, their children who are too busy for them - has a quiet sadness to them, gradually unveiled from the surface level happiness of the opening hour or so.
It takes its time - but I got to the end of its two hours and seventeen minutes feeling like no time had passed at all. But I guess that's the point.
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