After Tomorrow (1932)

Directed by Frank Borzage
Starring Charles Farrell, Marian Nixon and Minna Gombell
Produced by Fox Film Corporation 

After Tomorrow is a strange little romantic comedy.  Most rom-coms focus on the couple's courtship: the meet-cute, the courtship, the misunderstanding that almost breaks them up, the last minute reconciliation...

After Tomorrow has none of these things.  When we meet our couple, Pete and Sidney, they are already an item.  They've been together for years and want to get married.  Only trouble is, they cannot afford to live together. This is the Great Depression, Pete has a poor job and their respective mothers are too self-absorbed to be helpful.  Pete's mom is codependent and clingy, sabotaging her son's chance at love at every turn; Sidney's mom wants a better life, even if that means buying a beautiful new negligee and forcing her daughter to pick up the bills.

The couple dream of their life "after tomorrow," a lyric from their favorite song that provides the film's title.  The lovebirds begin to suspect however that after tomorrow will never come.  Every day they wake up and it remains sadly "today."


The film, based on a play, gives the couple a prerequisite roller coaster ride of emotions.  Pete gets a new job that pays enough to get them to the altar, but on the eve of the wedding, Sidney's mom leaves with another man and her father has a heart attack (requiring expensive medical treatment that once again drains the marriage fund).

While there is a kernel of drama and comedy here and there, After Tomorrow succeeds as neither a tear-jerking romance nor a laugh-a-minute romp.  The obstacles it sets up are paper-thin and over-written.  It never feels like things happen to people in the story.  It's more like some screenwriter decided we hadn't hit the runtime yet so let's erect another obstacle in the path of the inevitable wedding.

Compounding the issues with the story is the universally unsympathetic cast of characters.  Both of the mothers are conniving, but in the most transparent of ways.  Pete's mom plots to prevent her son from leaving while Sidney's mom wants to live high on the hog.  But neither of them carry out their plans in secret.  Pete's mom in particular basically comes out and says what her goals are several times.  Of course, they're the villains so we're supposed to root against them.

Sidney's father loves his wife, but he also sees her for what she is.  And when he continues to pine for her after she's taken up with another man, it's hard to see him as anything but pathetic.

Because their mom's motives are so obvious, Pete and Sidney come off as foolish saps for following along with their shenanigans.  Pete seems so willing to make his mom happy, you begin to wonder if his heart is really in this marriage thing at all.  He supposedly wants to spend the evening with the love of his life, but a simple guilt trip from mom sends him running home. 

For her part, Sidney is a better character, but not by much.  She momentarily stands up for herself when her mom has failed to clean the kitchen, but all it takes is a feigned headache for the cheerily dutiful daughter to agree to complete the chore herself.  She seems constantly suspicious of her mom, but never acts on it.

Take the couple together and all we really know is they want to get married. And that they have cute pet names for one another.  In one of those touches you only get in a pre-Code film, their thoughts seem dominated in subtle and later unsubtle ways by the sex they are not having, but you never really understand why they are together at all.  And that makes it harder to invest in the race to the altar.

Frank Borzage does phenomenal camerawork here, following characters along streets and using some deep focus techniques, but it is all an exercise in futility.  There is no story here. It's a premise with a foregone conclusion, only postponed by obstacles that annoy.  No need to rush out and watch this one.  Better to schedule it for sometime after tomorrow.

** out of *****

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Podcast Update (In Which I Start to Ramble)

Time for a podcasting update....

First, you all may have noticed the lack of Film Pasture podcasts.  I sadly had to give it up.  There was just too much going on between kids and work to keep up with all that went into that one.  I loved each and everyone of the episodes I did, and will miss chatting up other bloggers, but I know the show is in great hands going forward with the inimitable Lindsay from French Toast Sunday taking over the 'cast.

But I love hearing the sound of my own voice too much to hang up my headset.  And so... new podcast! Actually, we are a little over a month old now, but The Rambling Ramblers is the place to hear film news and discussion with myself and Justin from Man, I Love Films.  I feel like we are starting to hit our stride with the last couple of episodes focused on film nostalgia and trilogies. 

As you would suspect, you can find us over in iTunes as well as Podomatic.  So give a listen, follow us on Twitter, leave a review and give us any constructive criticism you may have.

Thanks!

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I Was Born, But... (1932)

Directed by Yasujirô Ozu
Starring Tatsuo Saitô, Tomio Aoki and Mitsuko Yoshikawa 
Produced by Shôchiku Eiga 

As a child, I remember being awestruck by my father.  He was a policeman.  His "partner" was a huge German shepherd named Jude.  He carried a gun and caught the bad guys.  He was a hero, larger than life.  My dad could definitely beat up your dad.

But then I got older. And I learned things about the world.  There were other police officers who did work similar to my dad. Other kids' parents made more. Or maybe they had a bigger TV. Or maybe they met Bobby Clarke.  My father was still a hero, someone who understood the world in ways I could barely comprehend. He just no longer resided on Mount Olympus.

Growing up is filled with these moments.  Your world expands, sometimes in small increments or sometimes in miles.  But as you learn, the mythic becomes mundane.

Yasujirô Ozu's I Was Born, But... perfectly captures that moment in growing up when you childhood innocence and naivete take one of their first hits.


Keiji and Ryoichi have just moved to a new suburban neighborhood with their parents.  Their father Kennosuke hopes that living closer to his boss will be the ticket to a promotion and a better life.

The boys start skipping school to avoid a bully named Taro and his gang, but Kennosuke puts an end to that.  So Keiji and Ryoichi go to Plan B: bribing an older boy to intimidate Taro.  The plan works perfectly, not only putting an end to the newcomers' daily torment, but getting them invited into the gang.

The boys soon get into that most timeless of childhood arguments: whose father is the most important?The brothers learn that Taro is the son of Iwasaki, who is Kennosuke's boss. Their faith in their father's immense stature is momentarily shaken, but they rationalize Kennosuke's position in a way only children could.

That night, Keiji and Ryoichi go to Taro's house to watch some home movies.  Kennosuke is there and becomes anxious when his sons arrive.  The reason for his trepidation is soon clear.  The films show Kennosuke as the office clown, making faces and serving as the butt of Iwasaki's jokes.

The boys are devastated. How could this very important man allow himself to be humiliated? Maybe dear old dad isn't all that they thought he was? Maybe, he is merely a man.

Every moment of I Was Born, But... feels completely authentic, as though Ozu is merely documenting a week in the life of this family.  The children fight and play and argue as children seemingly have for all time.  The conversations between parents and their kids are timeless, repeating words that will be familiar to the eye of families even today.

"The eye"? Yes, this film is a throwback if only by a couple of years.  It's a silent film surrounded by talkies.  Somehow, the approach only adds to the storybook-like element of the movie.  Indeed, it's full title translates as An Adult's Picture Book View — I Was Born, But..., which feels exactly right.

I Was Born, But... sets forth an epic drama by placing us back into the mind of the children we once were.  When every decision was the most important choice ever, and every slight was a crushing blow.  The ending is on the one hand somewhat obvious, but it's also lyrical and perfect.  Ozu may have set his "picture book" in Japan, but it's true power rests in its ability to transport the audience home. Wherever that may be.

***** out of *****

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