Maybe I am interpreting too much here, but it seems to me that Story of Floating Weeds could be the starting point of Western critics' focus on Ozu's "japaneseness", while ignoring his former stylistic playfulness. In this film, Ozu employs religious motives for the first time and the action takes place in the Japanese countryside, the cradle of Japanese tradition as seen by Western critics. The subject of the film is family relations in a broad sense, and more specifically the absent father figure. Having to deal with the iconography of kimonos, the Japanese countryside, and Buddhism seems to somehow limit Ozu's formal inventiveness. The unusual setting however enables his camera to capture some striking images. The script is as sharp as ever and combines a variety of themes and motives already employed in earlier films or bound to show up later in his catalogue.
Kihachi and his acting troupe take up residence in the town where Kihachi fathered a child with the local cafe owner Otsune almost two decades ago. His son, Shinkichi, thinks that his father is dead and Kihachi looks forward to spend as much time as possible with him. When his mistress Otaka finds out about his situation, she forces the young actress Otoki to seduce Shinkichi. Otoki does as told, but Shinkichi and her fall in love. The theater group's bankruptcy coincides with Kihachi finding out about Otoki and Shinkichi. In a violent confrontation, he exclaims that he doesn't want a father and Kihachi leaves town to start anew with the manipulative Otaka.
Some of the main conflict in Story of Floating Weeds is derived from the fact that a lot of characters live in different realms and can't cope with the fact that they are separated by opposing realities. The obvious example would be Kihachi and his son Shinkichi. But the performers of the acting troupe are rather mediocre, although Kihachi claims he aspires for a one year long run at the local theater, which shows the divide between the performers and the audience. Another example would be Kihachi, who acts out of love and concern for his son, and his mistress Otaka, who's actions are ascertained by jealousy and bad faith. As soon as the bubbles containing these differing realities burst, confrontations ensue, which is a nice way of setting up conflict. Ozu varies this by introducing the notion of the passing of time and what it does to people. When Kihachi and Otsune reunite for the first time in a while, they have to readjust their vision of each other. Kihachi has to do the same thing when he sees Shinkichi, as well as when his son learns the truth about who his father is. The reality we live in changes constantly, and it is our relationships to the people surrounding us who are responsible for that most of the time, Ozu seems to tell us.
What the great David Bordwell called the "extended family plot" in the case of Ozu's later work is applied here to the theater company, as we get introduced to a wide variety of characters who all have their specific importance within the plot. Kihachi, as the patriarch of this "work family" and the secret patriarch of his "real" family, has to reconcile both and another source of conflict in the movie emanates from his increasing difficulty to keep them both separated and running smoothly. Although Ozu's focus is not chiefly on masculinity, the role of the father figure (be it biological, affective, or symbolical) is dissected thoroughly and it is interesting that, like in An Inn In Tokyo, the patriarch has to leave at the end in order to ensure a better life for everyone else.
Not Ozu's best, but an interesting experiment with setting and style. The violent climax at the end of the film is memorable as well.
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