A Hen in the Wind was a difficult film to sit through. The film was set in occupied post WWII Japan when it was recovering from the damaging effects financially and emotionally from the war. In the homes, marriages had been tested as women struggled to maintain households with the men away for years. Ozu veered into melodrama and physical violence with one such marriage, something he did not often do, and which was troubling for these 21st century eyes.

Tokiko and her son are expectantly waiting for her husband to be repatriated after the war. She's sold nearly everything she had and is almost penniless. Her friend is also short on cash but helps her when she can. After selling her last kimono Tokiko has enough money to eat for awhile longer when disaster hits. Her son becomes dangerously ill and the hospital requires a cash payment up front for his life saving treatment. With no one else to turn to for such a large sum of money she sells herself for one night to save her child's life. After her husband comes home, she is unable to lie and tells him what she had done. Far from being grateful for saving his son's life, Shuichi becomes livid and interrogates her. He visits the brothel in order to find out if she had been a regular there. He meets a 21-year-old girl and sympathizes with her reason for having to prostitute herself and vows to find her employment. His boss agrees to hire her, but points out to Shuichi that hypocritically he had no problem forgiving and understanding a stranger but could not do so for his own wife. Shuichi acknowledges his wife had no choice. He just can't seem to let go of his anger. Later that night when Tokiko begs him to stay home, he "accidentally" pushes her down a tall flight of stairs. The "accident" seems to knock some sense into him and he tells Tokiko they need to forget the past, embrace, trust each other from here on out and live as they were supposed to.

The level of intimate violence in this film disturbed me greatly. It was heavily implied that Shuichi raped Tokiko. The poor woman had been victimized twice. Once by crushing poverty and a heartless medical system and a second time by her spouse. Shuichi manhandles her on several occasions, one of which causes her fall. The fall was filmed to show just how brutally her body slammed against the stairs over and over. Shuichi could not even be bothered to help her as she finally dragged her limping body back up to their room. When he declared that their estrangement was over and they would both forget what had happened it was hard to take him seriously. Nowhere in his self-righteous monologue did he tell her he was sorry for his behavior and make sure she was okay. Perhaps Ozu was using the marriage as a metaphor for Japan showing after its disgrace, it could all be put behind them in order to face a brighter future. Whatever the reason, it has been a long time since I've despised a character as much as I have Shuichi. He had every right to be taken aback and troubled, but his utter lack of empathy and physical rage toward Tokiko was disconcerting as he played the victim.

Ozu, as other directors had done, asked the question, "What would you do?" During times of financial crisis especially when a life is on the line, what would a person do? In this case a mother was willing to shame herself in order to save her child's life. It's easy to judge when money is available, but when it's not and there are few options, people will do what they must to survive and for their children to survive. And in this instance Tokiko was still the same truthful person she'd always been with her husband and told him what she'd done.

Even if I hadn't known this was a film by Ozu I would have recognized his work. The repeated use of architectural shots, especially of the gas storage units next to the slums where Tokiko lived were a dead giveaway as well as the precisely organized and decorated rooms the camera lingered over. He also showed the rusted-out remnants of sewer pipes several times usually in conjunction with Shuichi. I don't know what his meaning behind the sewer pipes meant, but I know how I viewed them in regards to the husband with the hurt male pride. If their marriage had been contaminated it was not by coerced infidelity but a cruel world that would let a child die and a husband who could not understand the cost to his wife. I found it interesting that the brothel was neater and cleaner looking than the heartless hospital. Finally, Ozu was already doing the directing style of actors looking straight into the camera to talk. This was his one technique that often disengaged me from the story because it didn't feel natural or intimate, more like breaking the fourth wall.

What I did find of great value in this film was Tanaka Kinuyo's emotionally honest performance. She conveyed a plethora of emotions that all rang true. Her devastated face and torn dress told you all you needed to know in one scene. Regardless of the situation, Tanaka gave her character great depth even when you might not agree with her actions. It rendered Shuichi's actions unforgiveable because Tanaka conveyed Tokiko's suffering so well that it made you wonder how anyone could not want to comfort her. In fact, it was the women of this film who tied it together. They had no choice but to keep moving and doing what they must without falling into despair. They were the ones who stood by each other, shared, and even as they joked about rising prices and rations gave the impression that hope was on the horizon.

If you can set aside the marital violence, which can be a tough assignment, A Hen in the Wind asked pertinent questions. The film also gave a glimpse into Japan's post war trauma in a way only Ozu could. Despite the destruction and shame, the resilience of the people, like in Tokiko's marriage would rise up and make a better day putting the past behind them and face the future with honor and courage.

6/21/23