The Little House

There is a way in which "The Little House" -- which was directed by Yoji Yamada for the legendary Shochiku Studio, and is out now on Blu-ray via a limited edition disc from Twilight Time -- calls back to the early-20th-century melodramas that cemented Japan as a nation with a forward-thinking cinema.

The wistful rhythms of Yasujiro Ozu's family dramas, or the poetic communion of life and nature that happens in the films of Kenji Mizoguchi: Both are invoked by Yamada's stately compositions. Given that "House" takes place in the era where those two masters thrived, we can presume this is no accident. And though the film may not reach the formal heights of those filmmakers, it does know its place within history.

The person taking us through that history is Taki, a maid, a supporter, and a close confidant of the Hirai family. In modern times (where she's played by Cheiko Baisho), she's crafting her autobiography at a young relative's request. Those pages carry us back to pre-WWII Japan, and to Taki's life within it (she's played here by Haru Kuroki), where national concerns -- like the ongoing war with China, at first -- are overshadowed by more quotidian concerns like the ongoing implementation of globalized economic policies, and the department store sales that come along with them.

Masaki (Takataro Kataoka), the patriarch of the family, has comparably skewed priorities. A toy-company executive who's stationed his family in an upscale home outside Tokyo, he ignores the concerns of military and of culture while obsessing over Tokyo's bid to host an upcoming Olympics -- and only caring about that because the development it spurs will increase profits. So when Itakura, a young art designer, arrives at the Hirai home, Tokiko quickly falls for his worldly demeanor, as well as for his sensitive disposition and his boy-band-ready hairstyle.

The locals take note, throwing shade at the pair from across every street. And the energy at home quickly turns bitter. So Taki's role as the silent observer -- Yamada always has her as the second figure in the frame, cornered away in the background -- is challenged: She has deep objections to the scenario, seemingly born of an unspoken love for both parties involved in the affair. But if she's going to raise them, she'll need to step into the foreground.

Her narrative is one where the self, the family, and the nation see their stories intersect. The values and desires of one are only sated when individuals are willing to sabotage another. But her role as storyteller is another element that faces a challenge: Her young relative Takeshi has a critique ready for every chapter. So, after a jovial dinner scene circa the mid-30s, Yamada will cut back to the inquiring boy as he asks something like this: What about the Manchurian Incident? How could you all be so happy? This pattern continues, with his comments elucidating and deepening the historical context of the movie. He's a film critic inside the film itself.

The Blu-ray features a transfer that accentuates the movie's color palette, which exhibits a wide range. Just look at the way the vivid red of the house's roof (and the glow of the cherry blossoms surrounding it) stands out against the faded grey of neighboring buildings. Also included is an additional audio track that isolates the lyrical and low-key score of legendary film composer Joe Hisaishi.

Completing the package is a booklet featuring an essay by Julie Kirgo, who searches for a link between the macro and micro elements of the narrative. She connects Taki's emotional arc -- from unchecked excitement for the future to an incurable regret regarding the past-to the state of Japan's international relations during the same era. And in doing so she finds out how this film maintains a beating heart: The characters aren't representing concepts or situations. They're just people, living and lying and loving, all while they remain trapped by the moods of the nation they inhabit.

"The Little House"
Blu-ray
$29.95
Screenarchives.com