Superior to the original.

Apart from some intimate images, it didn't excite me in any way.

All of Ozu's films are about exposing the underlying emotions and imperfections beneath a conformist Japanese society. In this he explores a band of ne'er do well performers who live on the outskirts of respectability. Their very lifestyle clashes with Japan's social structure but their transient relationship with society means they form their own unique family and worldview. As usual Ozu creates a wonderfully shot depiction of small time village life in a bygone post-war era.

Enjoyable with a few noteworthy scenes and no flaws worth mentioning. Good domestic drama with light comic moments.

While this feels a bit slight for later Ozu, it's still a remarkable little film. The atmospheric shots of the fishing village are wondrous. The depth of field in his compositions is often surprising, with characters appearing or disappearing into passageways not always immediately visible. The characters are remarkably human, while Ozu's presentation is typically restrained. The film's easy pace masks the deep emotion running through the characters, but heightens the satisfying conclusion.

I hate Ozu's directorial style but what a script.

There's some very good stuff here -- especially the last 20 minutes -- but too much of the movie seemed to simply drift along, making absolutely no impression on me. It's not bad, it's just not for me.

While no individual aspect stands out to me, this was pretty enjoyable on every level, with rich colours and very well crafted characters. Like other Ozu films, there are many bits of social commentary simmering under the surface, though little is made explicit and it works well with his style.

Ozu's first color film is a reimagining of his 1934 silent classic "A Story of Floating Weeds." He uses sound and color to add further depth to his tale of fragile human emotions and changing values within Japanese society. In the time lapsed between the silent era and this remake, one can see how truly remarkable Ozu's compositions have become. His shots have become half stage play/half voyeurism, showing restraint while still pulling us into the corner to watch his subjects in joy and despair.