Review #1772: Mr. Thank-You.
Cast:
Ken Uehara (Arigatô-san), Michiko Kuwano (Woman in black collar), Mayumi Tsukiji (Girl being sold), Kaoru Futaba (Girl's mother), Setsuko Shinobu (Daughter of man who returned from Tokyo), Ryuji Ishiyama (Gentleman with beard), with Einosuke Naka (Peddler), with Reikichi Kawamura (Villager from Tokyo), Kazuji Sakai (Peddler), and Nagamasa Yamada (Peddler) Written and Directed by Hiroshi Shimizu.
Review:
If you think about it, making a movie about a trip through the mountains with a bus driver and his passengers does seem quite ripe for curiosity. And for director Hiroshi Shimizu, it is exactly the kind of movie to introduce him into the curiousity of folks invested in sharpening their senses of world cinema, one who either made films known for their portrayal of children (he also founded an orphanage) or in the outsider among society in Japan. He attended college but did not graduate, instead moving on to the Shochiku studio in Tokyo, Japan to work as an assistant director. He then made his debut as director in 1924 and proceeded to direct over a hundred films in the span of 35 years before he died in 1966 at the age of 63. This is one of his most noted features, if only because only a handful of his films have managed to have a release in home video (at least on an easy to state scale, such as the Criterion Collection), although it could be possible to find features if one lurks on the Internet (of course, numerous films of his are lost, as is the case with a handful of films from that era in Japan); it is his contemporary (and friend) Yasujiro Ozu that had recieved more attention in terms of craftsman directors (Ozu however was once quoted as saying he couldn't shoot films like him). The movie is adapted from a 1925 short story Arigato [Thank You] by Yasunari Kawabata (one of 146 short stories that were included in a collection named the Palm-of-the-Hand Stories, which were eventually published all together after his death in 1972); you may recognize Kawabata from his writing contribution (alongside three others) for Teinosuke Kinugasa's A Page of Madness (1926) The novelist and short story writer was the first Japanese author to be awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature, having been awarded the prize in 1968.
One might not recognize the names present for a film with characters that don't have too many particular attributes (such as names, for example), but it doesn't make the overall result any less curious or inviting when it comes to a look inside people trying to maintain themselves within the challenges they live in while it moves from Izu to Tokyo. Shimizu liked to make practical films on location (with either amateur actors or not). Uehara and Kuwano are the most noted presences among the actors, and Uehara ended up with over 150 roles to his name while Kuwano tragically died at the age of 31 in 1946. Uehara does pretty well with the lead role, gentle and engaging despite spending most of his time seated (while having a portion of his lines being "Arigato!", obviously) while Kuwano leads the group of travelers in snappy charm that lends to a handful of interesting moments (such as smoking on the bus or making light of the quirks in an opinionated mustached man).
For a film made in the Great Depression, it proves quite adept in sobering interest that might rival features abroad in that same era, if only because Shimizu knows where to go with crafting interesting moments that don't overstay their welcome. You'll see a sequence involving a road crew or an improvised song and come out of it interested further in what the director likes to say about the varying roles people have to say when in company. The others do well with their moments needed, such as a family on their way to a distressing transaction (in a film full of moments talking about the reality of scraping for money) or with small amusing bits within a comedy-drama. It takes its time and relishes each second of what it means to make meaningful drama with bystanders that doesn't feel static or dated. The film also doesn't just end in the traditional manner either, since it essentially ends where it starts in another bus ride (the return trip), although the resolution of its one tying thread of plot is clear without being overly defined. For a 76 minute film, it is quite easy to recommend this feature, one that definitely stands as a useful feature to start with in the career of Shimizu along with films from that era and time.
Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars
