Cinema Reborn is one of Sydney’s newest film festivals, held at AFTRS between 3-7 May, presenting 16 recently restored, obscure masterpieces by some of cinema’s leading directors, each introduced by a keynote speaker from Sydney’s cinematic community. The festival is the brainchild of a board of noted Australian cinephiles, chaired by former MIFF director and Ronin Films founder Geoff Gardner, managed by the Cinema Reborn Programming and Organising Committee and with a host of patrons including David Stratton and Margaret Pomeranz. An exciting new addition to the growing landscape of film festivals in Sydney, Cinema Reborn allows the chance for rare classics to be shown to the public in an accessible setting, as well as providing a platform to showcase the timeless work of some of cinema’s greatest figures. I was fortunate enough to attend screenings of Yasujiru Ōzu’s family drama Tokyo Twilight (1957), and Norman Foster’s film noir Woman on the Run (1950), two films that are not only rarely showcased, but are testaments to the importance of film restoration and education.
Tokyo Twilight (Tōkyō boshoku) is one of Japanese cinematic pioneer Yasujiru Ōzu’s classic black-and-white post-war family dramas, joining a list of masterpieces such as Late Spring (1949), Early Summer (1951), and the renowned Tokyo Story (1953). Unlike many of these works, however, Tokyo Twilight fell into relative obscurity when it was left undistributed for many years until a recent 4K restoration which debuted at this year’s Berlin Film Festival. Unlike many of its peers, Tokyo Twilight has a surprisingly dark tone, bleak conclusion, and somewhat of a celebration of modern, urban living, in contrast to the traditionalist philosophy that Ōzu was known for. This change of style for Ōzu makes watching Tokyo Twilight all the more interesting an experience, the director’s hallmarks of long, still camerawork and complex world-building remain, as do the chattering dialogue and tense performances by a number of his regulars, namely the stoic Setsuko Hara, the wistful Isuzu Yamada, and the bawdy Haruko Sugimura.
A disappointing, stagnant performance by Chishu Ryū is countered by the marvellous complexity brought by Ineko Arima as the film’s tragic heroine Akiko. However, Arima’s great performance is unable to save the film from its primary problem: it takes an exceedingly long time to become invested in the characters. The winding plot lines are hastily tied together in the film’s last third, which ends in a manner that feels both rushed (surprising giving the film’s hefty runtime) and unsatisfying. Despite the more modern approach Ōzu takes, the ultimate philosophical answer the film reaches is that it is best for one to stay in their place, and to maintain their actions in line with the wishes of their family or else; a philosophy that seems to betray the main character. Regardless of its faults, Tokyo Twilight is a fascinating and welcome addition to Ōzu’s incredible oeuvre, and its restoration gives great insight into a different side of the director and remains an interesting and eclectic meditation on Japan’s grappling with its consistent reinvention.
Woman on the Run is an interesting anomaly in film history: directed by a 1930s pre-Code actor-turned-director who was somewhat of a protégé of Orson Welles, the American original was destroyed in the 2008 fire at Universal Studios in California, and was available only in extremely low-quality copies that were freely distributed due to its public domain status. However, the discovery of a negative in the BFI vault lead to a fantastic restoration by UCLA and the Film Noir Foundation, giving light to this forgotten masterpiece. Woman on the Run lives up to the lengths it took to be restored; this is a highly engaging and interesting film noir with razor-sharp dialogue, sinister lighting, and eclectic camera work that maintains the genre’s hallmarks while providing a unique perspective. This comes in the form of Ann Sheridan’s fantastic performance as the title character – the title, however, is misleading due to a poor marketing campaign, she is, in fact, the one searching for her husband on the run – in which a film noir heroine takes great agency in driving the plot of the film, acting largely on her own convictions. The camera work is stunning, the sharp, angular roads of San Francisco make for fantastically maze-like cuts and creepy Dutch angles. A particularly gorgeous moment of contrast occurs when, upon finding out that her husband truly does love her, Sheridan is awash in old Hollywood glow, a still close-up matching her ecstatic realisation as smoke gently billows past her face. The dialogue is also a delight, with snappy one-liners galore, as well as a number of delightful twists that maintain engagement throughout. The quality of the film, while better, remains comparatively poor; cigarette burns, poor audio, and obvious missing chunks do occasionally take away from the enjoyment. This becomes a problem especially during the conclusion, in which the viewer is robbed of satisfaction by what appears to be a segment of badly edited, or perhaps lost footage. However, it is a great joy that this film remains intact and now readily available, as it’s a delight from start to finish.
Now finished its first season, Cinema Reborn is a wonderful new presence in Sydney’s film scene, driven by passionate members of the local film community, and a celebration of the importance of film heritage and preservation. I’m excited to see where the festival heads into the future, with an incredible program for its first year and a vision that only grows with importance as time passes, I hope that it remains a mainstay on the festival circuit.
Dyan Stevens