A super-restrained eastern style (not exactly Ozu, no matter how indebted it might feel) of subtle mannerisms and sparse text. Not the easiest to get into, but very satisfying, especially visually.

The film is stunningly beautiful, bathed in sunlight for most of the running time, which adds to the tranquil mood and tone of the film. It's a very relaxing film to watch, to sink in its beauty. Unfortunately it didn't fully click with me - it's not that it didn't go anywhere in particular, which I don't mind at all, but rather that in its stasis it didn't show me much. Still I certainly enjoyed it, left the film feeling refreshed, and hopefully one day I will click with it completely.

Hou reveals VERY little about his characters, which makes this a poor Ozu homage (no matter how many passing trains are thrown in.) It's pretty, just not engaging. Millenium Mambo, Three Times and even Red Balloon have more to offer, in terms of the new "slowly floating camera" kind of Hou movie. Lumière will probably be enjoyed by those who actually seek it out, and it does have Tadanobu Asano, so that's always a redeeming factor.

Cafe Lumiere's contrasting relatives evoke the knowledge of how family trees evolve and diversify over single generations, a breathtakingly real-life (which is to say, smartly uncontrived) phenomena that finds its changing of the guard mimicked in how filmmakers like Hsiao-hsien work to expand upon preceding cinema. Cafe Lumiere, Three Times and Flight of the Red Balloon bear the influence of past masters without sacrificing their own aesthetic individuality.

"A languorous rumination on the relationship between the inescapable past, hesitant present, and daunting future." - Nick Schager

A typically beautiful film from Hou. His patient camera watches his characters with affection and captures quiet moments of connection and disruption that might otherwise go unnoticed. As a piece dedicated to Ozu, it picks up on Ozu's theme of family, and the modern setting reveals just how far culture has fallen in the intervening decades, as the default has become an independent, "I can do it alone" kind of attitude. Yet the film, in its quiet way, beautifully undercuts this modern notion.

Spare, yet engrossing. The end of the film felt like it came so abruptly! I would describe Café Lumière as a "mood" film, like Lost in Translation or In the Mood for Love, except with much less intensity- it is lighthearted and breezy, like a sunny spring day.

Hou has always had a touch of Ozu in him, and if he doesn't get the specifics right, at least the tone is similar... although the content is updated a bit for the current times. His approach is less focused, and there are many superfluous bits that will either entrance you or try your patience. But the theme of generational differences in social customs is there. Pin Bing Lee employs gorgeous natural light that gives everything a serene quality, although the camera movement is very un-Ozu.

How can such a simple movie be so compelling? You could argue that nothing really happens: we see long takes of trains, mundane activities, and more trains, usually from the perspective of a stationary camera. Yet somehow we become attached to the characters, and the movie as a whole is both relaxing and deeply satisfying. The sights and sounds of modern life in Tokyo are beautifully captured.

Extremely natural, lucid and esthetic; Hou communicates everything through his static, patient shots (only periodically doing some slow panning). The rhythm is leisurely, but lively in its own way... I actually think I liked this even better than City of Sadness (the only other Hou I've seen). This is "smaller" and less "remarkable", more "everyday-like", and lacks that overhanging historical perspective so prevailing in City....

No rush, no alarms, no surprises, typical japanese peace and harmony wrapped in simplicity. The beauty of cafe lumiere lies within these aspects...