Richie, Donald. "Yasujiro Ozu: The Syntax of His Films." Film Quarterly 17 (1963): 11-16. JSTOR.<http://www.jstor.org/stable/1210862>.

When analyzing the structure of Ozu's later films, Donald Richie writes about the cyclical quality to the director's works.  This circular storytelling, or what Richie labels a "return," is integral to the emotional impact of the narrative (12).  In Tokyo Story, for example, the film begins with Shukichi and Tomi getting ready to leave for the city.  Their neighbor stops by and makes some light conversation.  At the end of the film, the recently widowed Shukichi sits alone in the same room.  Again, the neighbor stops by for some conversation and goes on her way.  Not only is the setting exactly the same in the first and final scenes, but the shots are quite similar as well.

Richie claims Ozu's films build toward this "return" and the similar setting makes the plot of the film emotionally "compelling" (12).  By being shown almost exactly the same thing, one cannot help but notice the differences.  The film started with an optimistic tone and this "return" represents a melancholic reflection of what once was.  Since the "return" only happens at the very end of the film, the audience has already been introduced to the selfish children during the body of the plot; we know that Shukichi is not only lacking a wife, but additionally, he does not have any children who will support him.  Shukichi explains his own future best when he heartbreakingly says, "I think the days will get very long." Now, Ozu does not craft this despair merely for dramatic effect.  The cyclical nature of Tokyo Story forces its audience to recognize the flaws in the children's selfishness and hopefully prevent the audience from getting caught up in city life.

Mellen, Joan. The Waves at Genji's Door: Japan Through Its Cinema. New York: Pantheon Books, 1976.

Call #: PN1993.5.J3 M4

In her chapter on Ozu, Joan Mellen gives a close analysis of several of the director's films.  When speaking about his later works, she writes, "Ozu's implicit hope, in all the films he made after the War, was that traditional Japanese values could be continued within the context of the family, despite the social degradation outside," (321).  She develops this idea deeper over the next several paragraphs and goes as far as saying that the preservation of family values, in Ozu's mind, would prevent total "moral anarchy" (321).  While it sounds extreme to label the world as being in moral anarchy, Tokyo Story certainly portrays the Ozu's distress of his contemporary world. 

This anxiety is nicely shown through the contrast between exterior scenes in Tokyo and interior scenes of the family.  Many of the outdoor shots consist of noisy, dirty elements of city life.  While the camera generally remains static, there is significant movement through the frame which gives an unstable and unreliable tint to the world.  On the other hand, the indoor shots-the shots protected from the outside world-have a calm, soothing feel to it.   As Mellen suggests, home and the family can be a valuable shelter.

By the end of the film, however, we see that the family is no stronger than the world on the outside; everyone is separated physically and emotionally.  Despite this inverse, Mellen's analysis seems to be correct because the destruction of the cinematic family allows Ozu calls attention the underlying problem.  Only by recognizing the decomposition of family can his audience put an end to it.

Richie, Donald. "The Later Films of Yasujiro Ozu." Film Quarterly 1st ser. 13 (1959): 18-25. JSTOR.<http://www.jstor.org/stable/1211232>.

While Donald Richie writes about many aspects of Ozu's later films, he makes an interesting point concerning the directors reserved style.  He claims that Ozu "puts the world at a distance and leaves the spectator uninvolved; a mere recorder of impressions which he may register but which do not personally involve him" (19).  Additionally, Ozu consistently has his characters, "say what is appropriate to the situation, as if their conversation were stolen directly from life" (20).  These two characteristics complement each other and, according to Richie, give a Buddhist aura to his films. 

While Richie may certainly be right about the Buddhist style, Ozu's realism also heavily contributes to his opinion that the modern era is destroying the Japanese family.  Ozu constantly frames shots with doorways and objects which give the impression, as Richie points out, that we are merely spectators in the film.  From this voyeuristic view point, each scene feels true to life, and it is easy for the audience to forget that they are watching a film.  As the parents are neglected by their children, it seems as if this truly happens.  Through the realism, the audience can develop a stronger emotional connection to the characters.  The final scene, for example, shows Shukichi alone after his wife died with no children to comfort him.  The scene is terribly heartbreaking and the audience, through the distanced view point, cannot help but see the harm resulting from the disintegration of the family.  While this reserved style does not directly connect modernity to changing family structures, it highlights and emphasizes the depressing result.

Flint, Peter B. "Alfred Hitchcock Dies; a Master of Suspense." New York Times 30 Apr. 1980. 7 Apr. 2008 .

    This is the actual obituary published by the NY Times following Alfred Hitchcock's death in 1980. Although the article offers no more than a few brief comments about North by Northwest, it talks about many stylistic elements in the film which were hallmarks of Hitchcock's innovative approach. For example, one of the more prominent features of classic Hitchcock style is the emphasis on montage and dramatic imagery over dialogue in developing the story. This article mentions examples of this including North by Northwest's crop-dusting scene in which Cary Grant tries to evade a bullet-firing low-flying aircraft. It was clear that Hitchcock controlled a certain mastery of the camera. The scene, which begins with Grant is waiting for the elusive Kaplan along a long a dusty road in Northern Indiana, effectively demonstrates the suspense that can be achieved using wide shots and apparent isolation. The camera cuts frequently between shots of Grant looking down the expansive road in both directions and extended shots of the never-ending road. Hardly a word needs to be spoken in this scene for the audience to understand the character's frustration and fear.

    Speaking of Hitchcock's style as a whole, the article acclaims his "virtuosity in creating a rhythm of anticipation with understated, sinister overtones, innovative pictorial nuance and montage... and revealing cross-cutting of objective shots with subjective views of a scene from an actor's perspective." This style is apparent throughout the film, but its power is best seen before and during the crop-dusting sequence and also in the fight on the faces of Mount Rushmore. Furthermore, Hitchcock oftens breaks from established convention in order to convey his message. For example, on the empty highway Hitchcock repeatedly breaks the 180-degree rule in order to display the surroundings and prove Thornhill's complete isolation from others. The works Hitchcock created are not only a great piece of cinematic history in their own right, but also in the lasting impact they have imparted on other filmmakers and their works. Hitchcock's legacy in film is a natural byproduct of his unique style over many great films during his lengthy career.

Hollywood : critical concepts in media and cultural studies / edited by Thomas Schatz. 0415281318 (set) series London ; New York : Routledge, 2004.
Call#: Van Pelt Library PN1993.5.U6 H556 2004

    In chapter 34 of this book, Andrew Sarris attempts to classify and find themes in the works of Alfred Hitchcock. Using frequent references to specific scenes and elements of the films, Sarris argues that Hitchcock is unusually adept at rousing interest from his audience. Furthermore, Sarris believes that Hitchcock never received the visual analysis he deserved, presumably because of the mass appeal of his films. The style is said to be uniting of the divergent classical traditions of Murnau (notably the camera angles) and of Eisenstein (use of montage). The thrillers Hitchcock has produced all require a situation of normality. Hitchcock would never allow a murder to occur in a dark alley, simply because the audience expects that is where a murder should occur. Rather, a situation of normality would be the best place for a murder. Sarris uses the example a clean hotel bathroom in Psycho, but this argument could be applied to the murder at the United Nations, or the fight scene on the faces at Mount Rushmore.

    What Sarris is alluding to, but not declaring outright, is that a thriller must engage its viewer at a visceral level. Any murder that occurs expectedly due to the scenery would not adequately arouse the emotions of the viewer. This is one of the key elements of classic Hitchcock style. Hitchcock refuses to allow plot twists to occur formulaically; he insists on keeping the audience guessing. While this has no doubt added to his popular appeal and the frequency of imitation his works see, it is a concrete example at the ingenuity of the director and why he deserves a prominent place in cinematic history. His refusal to accept the obvious and his thirst for innovative and unexpected events keeps the viewers emotionally engaged in the film, and is thus one of the greatest cognitive tools at his disposal.

This book chapter examines the masculine styles and posturing in Tarantino's films. Because Tarantino has created a world of characters who are violent, sensitive, and cool, this investigation into the types of men in Tarantino's work serves as an overview work for this topic.