Tree Without Leaves (Raku-yo-ju) (落葉樹)

Produced by Marui Kobun Co., Ltd.

A Kindai Eiga Kyokai Production

"DECIDUOUS TREE"

Executive Producer: Shosaku Imai

Nobuko Otowa

Ichiro Zaitsu

Kazuki Yamanaka

Midori Sono

Keiju Kobayashi

Written and Directed by Kaneto Shindo

Tateshina in Shinshu, Nagano Prefecture

Haru! Supper! Come home!

Come on, bats!

The sandals went up, and the bats came down.

Haru! Supper! Come home!

Haru! Supper's ready! Come now!

Haru! Supper! Come home!

Goodbye.

Suburbs of Hiroshima

We made rice cake on December 30.

You do it.

Happy New Year!

Mom's favorite hanger-on!

You still drink her milk!

Shut up!

Mom's favorite hanger-on?

I followed her wherever she went.

I'd suck her wrinkled breasts.

Hurry!

In the middle of a vast prairie,

a tiny light was seen.

The wandering priest felt greatly relieved.

He started walking toward the light.

The priest said,

"Excuse me," and entered the hut.

He saw an old woman there.

He said, "I'm lost."

"Will you put me up for the night?"

The old woman said, "That's too bad."

"Come in. Come closer to the fire."

Her hair was pure white, face wrinkled.

Her eyes shone like a wildcat.

After a while she said,

"I'm out of wood. I'll go get some."

She left, but soon came back.

She said, "Don't look into the inner room,"

and left again.

The priest was all alone.

He felt curious about the room.

Feeling sorry for her, he peeked into the room.

It shocked the priest.

The room was full of bones and skeletons.

Let's save the rest for tomorrow.

No. Tell me now!

You'll have a nightmare.

I don't care.

You'll cry again.

I won't.

The old woman gathered wood and came home.

The priest was gone.

"Why, he ran away!"

My mother had me when she was forty-one.

My family raised their own food.

Thanks for helping.

Please eat. There's plenty.

Me too.

Tired, aren't you?

I'll go see him tomorrow.

I'll go, too.

Mom's hanger-on!

So what?

My brother joined the 11th Regiment in Hiroshima.

Mom went to visit him every Sunday.

Her hanger-on, I followed wherever she went.

Mother took a shortcut over a hill.

Nice day, isn't it?

Hiroshima is over there.

A passage through the big parade ground.

It led to

the 11th Infantry Regiment barracks.

Eat it all. Don't leave any.

We made it for you.

Visiting time was brief.

But we met him.

Now we had to leave.

Along the way

there was an eatery.

We always stopped there to eat noodles.

It got dark on the way home.

Mother didn't hurry.

Blue fires burning!

No, fox fires.

I'm scared.

No need to be.

A fox mother is burning them for her cubs.

Mother used a sickle well.

Young men visited

other families at night after harvesting.

Good evening.

For families who had

young daughters, it was a shame if young men

didn't visit them.

Please come in.

The festival's coming, right?

Please help us.

Nice persimmons.

We got many this year.

You bought a phonograph?

May we listen?

Of course.

What a beautiful one!

Expensive, I bet.

So many people!

A god'll come soon.

How pretty!

Look! Isn't it beautiful?

Even while cooking,

Mom sometimes worked on paddies.

It's flying!

Chopsticks.

Is Mom still taking a bath?

The melon will be gone!

The watermelon.

Watch your step.

Look! Three!

We caught eels to go sea bathing.

Good morning.

The sea!

I'll go to the eatery.

I'm glad it's a nice day.

At the eatery, eels became money.

Excuse me.

Got a good price.

Fine!

Hurry and change.

You too.

Mom too.

Let's warm up!

Swim!

Good!

You all right?

Eat a lot.

Haru! Supper! Come home!

How is it in Tokyo?

A cat on a hot tin roof!

Thanks for coming.

Beautiful!

What's this?

A pinball game prize.

You finished your first novel?

No more scenarios?

I can't write them anymore.

Scenarios are long.

They need youthful energy.

Really?

My brother and sisters all died.

Only I remember my mother.

I'll die before long, too.

Then no one will be left

to remember my mother.

But she really did exist.

So, I wanted to write about her.

This coat used to be a kimono

my mother made for me.

I was only ten.

As I grew, the sleeves got too short.

My mother had some extra cloth.

So, my sister-in-law fixed it for me.

Mom died when I was eleven.

She didn't mention the sleeves.

She meant to fix them herself.

Mom died after our family went bankrupt.

We lost everything, except for

the kimono and a coat.

It was made of the same material.

In my youth, I couldn't afford a new kimono.

I kept wearing this.

In my thirties, the thing was practically rags.

So I had the kimono and coat combined

into a kimono.

In my forties, I got a steady job.

I bought new kimonos.

But I couldn't throw this one away.

I reversed it.

In another ten years, it was totally worn out.

But I couldn't for get that my mother made it for me.

I couldn't throw it away.

So I had it remade into a short coat.

This is it.

It has a kind of softness.

It has a deep flavor.

Maybe it looks

like a rag to you.

This is the only thing my mother left...

for me.

I'm glad she left it for me.

I brought rice cake.

Chicken too.

I'll take it.

What grade?