小津安二郎『彼岸花』と日本のカラー映画Equinox Flower Unveils Yasujiro Ozu's Vibrant Vision in 1950s Japan

How many of you have watched films by Yasujiro Ozu (小津安二郎, 1903-1963)? While his masterpiece, Tokyo Story (東京物語, 1953), is internationally acclaimed and widely recognized, today I’d like to recommend his 1958 film Equinox Flower (彼岸花, Higanbana). I’ll briefly touch on the background of Japanese color films from the 1950s while exploring what makes this particular film extraordinary from an unconventional perspective.

Equinox Flower is known as Ozu’s first color film, an important work intertwining his aesthetic preferences and the demands of the times. Ozu, who was notoriously cautious about adopting new technologies—such as transitioning from silent to sound films—primarily continued producing films at Shochiku (松竹). However, this particular work was produced by a different studio, Daiei (大映), where casting the then-major star actress Fujiko Yamamoto became a critical factor. At that time, Daiei set a condition: “If you want Fujiko Yamamoto, it has to be in color,” which pushed Ozu toward his first color film. But why did Daiei impose such a condition?

Fujiko Yamamoto, unanimously chosen as the winner of the first Miss Japan pageant in post-war 1950, became emblematic of the new Japanese identity emerging from the aftermath of defeat. Although Yamamoto herself initially had no intention of becoming an actress, a fierce recruitment battle among movie studios ended with her surprising entry into Daiei in 1953. Her debut was the monochrome film Hana no Kodokan (花の講道館, 1953), but Daiei, eager to establish her as the symbol of post-war Japanese femininity, swiftly embarked on intensive research into color filmmaking, aiming to redefine the image of actresses previously established in black-and-white cinema, ultimately nurturing Yamamoto as a central figure in their new color film strategy.

Japanese cinema had already witnessed its first color film in 1951 with Shochiku’s Carmen Comes Home （カルメン故郷に帰る） by Keisuke Kinoshita. Personally speaking, its color representation wasn’t impressive; Kinoshita seemed to rush its adoption without sufficient research. Ozu, meticulous about color, deemed contemporary color technologies inadequate for his aesthetic standards, thus continuing to produce black-and-white films despite the advent of the color era.

However, it’s essential to clarify that Ozu wasn’t stubbornly rejecting new technologies. Rather, he and his trusted crew were continually researching until the technology reached his rigorous standards. Although Daiei’s requirement undoubtedly played a role, it’s also documented that Ozu was significantly persuaded by his long-time cinematographer and trusted collaborator, Yuharu Atsuta. Ozu particularly emphasized the accurate rendering of red, a quality he found lacking in existing color technologies. His adoption of Germany’s Agfacolor finally allowed him to explore new artistic territory.

In the 1950s, Japanese films frequently employed Fujifilm’s Fujicolor and America’s Eastmancolor. For example, Carmen Comes Home utilized Fujicolor, but it was Daiei that actively integrated color filmmaking, decisively choosing American Eastmancolor over domestic Fujicolor for Teinosuke Kinugasa’s pioneering full-color work, Gate of Hell (地獄門, 1953). From then on, Daiei became the pioneering studio in Japan’s color film industry, eventually achieving superb color expression that came to be known as “Daiei Color.” Notably, in tandem with Daiei’s advances, Toyo Laboratory completed its Eastmancolor processing plant in 1953, dramatically accelerating Japan’s transition to the era of color cinema. One symbolic success was Kozaburo Yoshimura’s River of the Night (夜の河, 1956), starring Yamamoto, set in the traditional Kyoto dyeing (“Kyozome”) district, acclaimed domestically and internationally for its stunning color palette.

Around the same time, Daiei also quickly introduced Germany’s Agfacolor system, releasing 8:13 A.M. by Kozo Saeki in 1956. Agfacolor’s remarkable red hues greatly impressed many filmmakers, including Ozu’s cinematographer Yuharu Atsuta. Although Shochiku had fallen behind Daiei’s leadership in color film technology, it finally blossomed through Ozu’s use of Agfacolor in Equinox Flower. The titular “higanbana” refers to the vibrant red flower that blooms exclusively during the autumnal equinox (“Ohigan”) in Japan. Often seen near rice fields or cemeteries during this season, the flower evokes distinctive emotions. It is also called “Manjushage,” derived from the Sanskrit “manjusaka,” meaning “red flower,” carrying strong Buddhist associations.

Ozu utilized Agfacolor specifically to evoke the red hues of the equinox flower, masterfully integrating this color throughout the film. Red props subtly populate scenes—teacups, cushions, kettles, radios—but pay particular attention to the kimono sash worn by Fujiko Yamamoto in promotional photos. Strictly speaking, this color is closer to vermilion (“shu-iro (朱色)”) rather than pure red, and Agfacolor’s distinctive subdued reddish-brown hue harmonized perfectly with Ozu’s artistic vision. This integration of color established what became known thereafter as “Ozu’s color”—a distinctive aesthetic benchmark. Furthermore, Ozu meticulously prepared every artistic detail, constructing a film set featuring an unusually long corridor designed purely for visual aesthetics rather than conventional house layouts. He also carefully coordinated costume and furnishings colors, documented by surviving samples of fabric and sliding-door papers, clearly indicating his thorough color planning and his immense dedication to his first color film.

While all this may be well-known within Japanese film history, what personally resonated deeply with me in Equinox Flower was Kinuyo Tanaka’s performance as the mother of Ineko Arima’s character. The story revolves around the father (Shin Saburi) becoming displeased after his daughter announces her marriage plans without parental consultation. Kinuyo Tanaka’s performance, standing firmly against Saburi’s stubbornness, is unforgettable. The interaction between Tanaka and Saburi is historically significant, given their frequent collaborations in pre-war Japanese cinema, embodying various relationships like lovers or spouses. Ozu masterfully captured this dynamic, respectfully honoring the two brilliant actors.

Shin Saburi and Kinuyo Tanaka co-starred frequently from the mid-1930s through the 1940s, dominating pre-war cinema. Typically, Tanaka portrayed a character troubled by Saburi’s actions. Post-war, their collaborations ceased until their reunion in Equinox Flower. Observing their relationship across decades reveals profound layers within this film. Prominent among their earlier films were Shindo (新道, 1936) by Heinosuke Gosho, Men vs. Women (男性対女性, 1936) by Yasujiro Shimazu, Man’s Atonement (男の償ひ, 1937) and Aizen Katsura (愛染かつら, 1938) by Hiromasa Nomura, and later films like Kinuyo’s First Love (絹代の初恋, 1940) and Record of a Female Doctor (女医の記録, 1941).

This era represents Japanese cinema’s first golden age, showcasing numerous legendary actors like Ken Uehara, Shuji Sano, Shin Tokudaiji, Michiko Kuwano, Kuniko Miyake, Mitsuko Mito, Mieko Takamine, and Hiroko Kawasaki. Yet, few maintained prominence into the post-war era. Among those who did were Saburi and Tanaka, who navigated tumultuous times, delivering extraordinary performances. Their reunion in Equinox Flower, their last collaboration, evokes deep emotions.

Although Ozu’s films are often criticized for thematic repetition, a comprehensive viewing reveals his intense struggles and constant attempts to transcend personal limits through profound visual expression. I encourage readers, if possible, to explore all of Ozu’s films to truly appreciate his brilliance.