Japanese-born director Yasujiro Ozu (1903-1963) is one of the most satisfying, yet complex filmmakers in history, and also the simplest. Early on he learned to eliminate anything extraneous, such as camera movements, flashy editing, or even camera angles (everything is shot head-on, eye-level with the actors), in favor of composition and pacing. (He only reluctantly made the jumps to sound, and later, color.) His films have a peaceful, tranquil quality, that leave me feeling relaxed afterward, and yet -- as I discovered last summer while devouring the Criterion Eclipse Late Ozu box set -- there's a dark side to Ozu. If his characters eventually find happiness, they find it by letting go, or giving up their values. It's a harsh message for Americans reared on fighting for our ideals, which is perhaps why Ozu's films were deemed "too Japanese" to be released here during his lifetime. Yet the films still work, and here we have a perfect example in Ozu's I Was Born, But... (1932), released as part of the Criterion Eclipse Box Set #10: Silent Ozu: Three Family Comedies. (The Eclipse series offers no-frills box sets of films that may otherwise never see the light of day.)

Its protagonists, two schoolboys, learn to accept things the way they are, but Ozu paints the film as a kind of tragicomedy; they can laugh at their newfound position. The two boys face a daily regimen of bullies and other troubles at school, but their world collapses when they discover that their father must kowtow to a much more powerful boss, and worse, that the boss's son goes to school with them. They decide to go on a hunger strike to show their disgust and disappointment. The moment of truth comes while watching home movies at the boss's house. The boys see their father mugging for the camera and making everyone laugh. This moment of levity slowly, imperceptibly turns uncomfortable as the mugging continues and it becomes clear that the act has become embarrassing. The American version would have ended with the family suddenly coming into a fortune, but Ozu's film is an impossibly delicate balance of bittersweet and comedy. The performances are especially graceful, especially by the two boys and by Tatsuo Saito as the father. I Was Born, But... is a masterpiece, and one of Ozu's three or four greatest works. It alone is worth the price of this box set. Ozu later re-worked this story into the color film Good Morning (1959).

The earliest film in the set, Tokyo Chorus (1931), shows Ozu establishing the style he would keep until the end of his days, although a bit looser and lighter; there's a touch of Lubitsch here with some quiet comic asides. The opening sequence, with a flashback to the hero's carefree youth, is fairly overt and almost slapsticky. A clerk at an insurance firm, Okajima (Tokihiko Okada) looks forward to his bonus so that he can buy a bicycle for his son. But when he stands up for a wronged co-worker, he loses his job and his bonus. It's the setup of a hundred Hollywood comedies, but Ozu is more interested in the intricacies of the situation, rather than the situation itself. Okajima tries to make amends by buying a scooter, and finds himself conflicted at the prospect of taking a job that's beneath him. The ending doesn't neatly wrap everything up, but also doesn't leave us in the lurch. It's a beautifully sustained piece of filmmaking.

The third film, Passing Fancy (1933), is a kind of odd departure for Ozu, especially after nailing down his style so superbly in I Was Born But... This film plays more obviously with high melodrama and tense moments. It's a most un-Ozu-like concoction, but quite enjoyable. Uneducated single father Kihachi (Takeshi Sakamoto) works in a brewery and barely scrapes by. He and his son have a playful relationship, almost independent of one another; each would insist that he's looking after the other. (Ozu apparently made a series of films from these characters.) One night Kihachi discovers a cute homeless girl (Nobuko Fushimi) and sets her up with a place to stay and work: his favorite restaurant. He begins to make passes at her, but she only has eyes for Kihachi's younger, more handsome co-worker. When his son falls ill, someone must come up with a huge amount of money for doctor bills, and Kihachi must give up his quest for love. The brilliant touch is that the son (Tomio Aoki, also in I Was Born, But...) falls ill because he uses money his father gave him to overindulge in candy; later the father gives him sake to help him sleep, which only makes things worse. Ozu starts the picture with another Lubitsch-like comedy bit and includes threats of violence, and even closes with his hero swimming, an unlikely choice for such an interior director.

As for the quality, Criterion has done their usual superb job, with a couple of small gripes. Composer Donald Sosin cooked up three new scores for these films, and they're quite good, but I find that they sometimes assume humor in a scene when it could be more dramatic. The quality of the prints varies; Tokyo Chorus and Passing Fancy have lots of wear and tear. Passing Fancy in particular has some odd editing choices, with intertitles coming up over the wrong character; it's difficult to tell if Ozu intended this disorienting effect or if some restorer merely placed the shots in the wrong order. So far, only 14 of Ozu's 53 films are available on DVD in the U.S. and Criterion has released all of them. They're all highly recommended.