Tokyo Story (1953) Review: Small Neglects, Vast Sorrow

Is Tokyo Story worth watching?

Yes. Tokyo Story is a quietly devastating film about parents, children and the distances that grow between them, and its reputation as one of the greatest films ever made is deserved. Yasujirō Ozu tells a simple story with extraordinary restraint, and the emotional impact creeps up on you rather than announcing itself. The reservation, for newcomers, is pace: this is a slow, still film, and it asks the audience to adjust to its rhythm before it pays off.

What is Tokyo Story about?

Tokyo Story follows Shūkichi (Chishū Ryū) and Tomi (Chieko Higashiyama), an elderly couple who travel from their small coastal town of Onomichi to visit their grown children in Tokyo. They are proud of their family and excited about the trip.

In the city, though, their eldest son, Kōichi (Sō Yamamura), a doctor, and their daughter Shige, who runs a beauty salon, are busy with their own lives and treat the visit as an inconvenience. The person who shows the couple the most warmth is Noriko (Setsuko Hara), the widow of their son who was killed in the war. Ozu co-wrote the film with his longtime collaborator Kōgo Noda. It is Japanese, in Japanese, and runs 136 minutes.

Ozu’s stillness as a way of seeing

Ozu’s style is famously distinctive. The camera is placed low, roughly at the height of someone kneeling on a tatami mat, and it barely moves. Scenes are composed with careful symmetry, and they are separated by short “pillow shots” of chimneys, laundry lines, streets and harbours. This formal rigour can seem austere at first, but it creates a sense of calm attention, as if the film is patiently observing life without judgement.

That restraint is also the source of the film’s power. Ozu rarely emphasises dramatic moments, and the most painful things happen in passing: a brief exchange at a dinner table, a small decision about where the parents should stay, a quiet pause after a polite remark. By the time the story’s emotional weight becomes clear, it has accumulated almost invisibly.

Performances of great gentleness

Chishū Ryū and Chieko Higashiyama are wonderful as the parents, whose politeness masks their disappointment and whose affection for each other is shown in small, understated ways. Ryū, a regular in Ozu’s films, has a serene stillness that makes Shūkichi’s quiet acceptance deeply moving.

Setsuko Hara is luminous as Noriko, a young woman whose kindness contrasts with the children’s self-absorption. Her performance is warm, dignified and quietly sorrowful, and her scenes with the parents are among the most tender in cinema. Haruko Sugimura, as the brisk, practical Shige, is sharp and funny, and she ensures that the children are not simple villains but ordinary people caught up in their own lives.

Where the patience is tested

Tokyo Story’s pace can be a challenge. The film moves slowly, with long conversations, repeated situations and little conventional drama. For viewers used to faster storytelling, the first hour in particular can feel uneventful, and the formal style may seem distancing until its purpose becomes clear. The film is also rooted in the specific social changes of post-war Japan, and some of its nuances may not be immediately obvious to modern audiences. The rewards, however, are well worth the effort.

Who should watch Tokyo Story?

This is essential for anyone interested in world cinema, and for viewers who appreciate gentle, contemplative drama about family and ageing. It is suitable for all ages, with no violence or explicit content, but its themes of generational change, loss and regret will resonate most with adults. Set aside a quiet evening and let it work at its own pace.

If it speaks to you, try these next:

• Shoplifters, Hirokazu Kore-eda’s modern Japanese drama about what makes a family, which shares Ozu’s humane attention to everyday life.
• Perfect Days, Wim Wenders’s Tokyo film, made by a devoted admirer of Ozu and shaped by a similar love of routine and small moments.

The verdict

Tokyo Story is a masterpiece of restraint, a gentle, quietly heartbreaking portrait of family and time. Its slowness demands patience, but its emotional depth and formal beauty make it a film that grows richer with each decade of the viewer’s own life.

Rating: 4.5/5