母のおもかげ (1959)

It's incredible how Shimizu is able to slow down the overwhelming tensions of childhood grief in a single space and time of the plot that, prima facie, exposes, as if through a prism of cinematic simplicity, feelings that are in reality extremely complex, and even indescribable, such as Michio's attachment to his biological mother, despite Sonoko's excessive nobility, or the maternal affection that only gradually emerges from the stepmother. Just as in his last silent film, "A Hero of Tokyo" (1935), where there is a common agreement to pair a woman and a man with children from their respective marriages, in this emotional drama Sadao and the beautiful Sonoko are paired together. In this, the last film of his career, Shimizu employs obvious lateral shifts of focus that function as aesthetic substitutes but also as an imponderable metaphor for the transitions of human life. The boy runs home talking to the portrait of his deceased mother, but immediately realizes that his aunt has put it away. He raises the possibility of another mother, and the narrative thread that continues with the first encounter and fleeing to cry inconsolably in his bedroom begins, or rather, slightly intensifies. I'm not so sure that the aunt's insistence on not giving Michio his time to grieve (which, it must be remembered, is different for every human being) isn't somewhat counterproductive, or at least cruel, in asking him to put away his mother's portrait. The boy's rejection is subtle, perfectly well acted, first in Michio's refusal to allow the other girl (his sister) to approach or climb onto the ledge with the dove that evidently symbolizes the mother "I don't need nails," but also in preventing the tender and affectionate stepmother from washing the stains she notices on his shirt. Isn't the scene where Sadao scolds his son for not calling Sonoko "mother" wonderful, unique, and watching his little sister burst into tears and leap into the arms of her grumpy father? But without a doubt, the best part is Michio's escape to the zócalo or public square to replace the dove that his little sister accidentally let escape when she opened the door of its cage. The surge of hope of a child, venting his unbearable longing for his mother, crystallized in the dove. And yet, before living with Sadao, Sonoko asked herself before the arranged meeting: "Is there such a thing as happiness?" This film is the answer.