Chen originally intended this unhappy portrait of addiction, insulation, betrayal and revenge in 1920s China to be small, psychological and less political than his previous films, in part to avoid the official censure to which he's grown accustomed. He soon realized, however, that no truthful portrayal was possible without also showing the constraints of history and the pressures of societal upheaval. The film has been banned in China most likely because its depiction of individuals unable to escape the poisons of its country's past bears unflattering resemblance to its present. It opens in 1911 when the last emperor abdicated but jumps ahead to the early 20s. Chen has recreated the decadent tumult of Shanghai, refers to the pull of modernism in Peking (even mentioning
|
|
|
"youths shedding their blood without regret"), and clashes them with the backward-looking traditions of a wealthy estate in nearby old Suzhou. Gong Li is Ruyi, a young woman isolated by opium addiction and by her position as head of the Pang estate after its master dies. Leslie Cheung gives a finely shaded performance as a tormented Shanghai gangster whose ability to love Ruyi or anyone is stunted partly by his boss's wish that he remain a cold-hearted gigolo blackmailer but primarily by his memories of childhood abuse at the hands of his sister and her opium-addled husband in the Pang estate, where he was their slave. "Temptress Moon" is grim and fascinating. Aided by Christopher Doyle's frenetically rapturous photography, Chen has captured a nearly mad, accelerating world turned against itself.
When comedy springs from richly textured characters who we grow to care about, a film can be exceedingly hilarious but still take on a dramatic tone. "Shall We Dance?" is that kind of character-driven comedy that, while punctuated with laugh-out-loud physical humor, will have you contemplating themes of integrity and mid-life regret. In Japan, ballroom dancing is regarded with suspicion and dancing in public is a source of embarrassment, but beneath this facade lies a secret fascination. Enter Shohei (Koji Yakusyo), a weary 40ish businessman, who secretly enrolls in dance classes hoping to get close to Mai (Tamiyo Kusakari), the beautiful young teacher he earlier saw gazing sorrowfully out of the studio's upper window. Once a champion, Mai has lost her enthusiasm for dance much like Shohei has for his marriage and staid home life. Instead, he's thrown in with two equally inept beginners under the tutelage of an older instructor. Eventually, he begins to experience the satisfying exhaustion that comes from enjoyable exertion, and his good mood at home prompts his wife to hire a detective to find out what he's been up to. The film is filled with engaging, well-developed characters but special mention should be given Shohei's bald, long-suffering co-worker Mr. Aoki who, away from work, dons a wig and flamboyant clothes, secretly transforming himself into a nearly nightmarish interpretation of a latin dance sensation. Suo's directorial debut will inevitably be compared with 1992's "Strictly Ballroom" simply because both use dance as a framework and a big competition as a climactic situation, but "Shall We Dance?" is superior to that cartoonish forerunner in every way.
As Gatlif's film disappears into the darkness of the movie theater from which it emerged, one is left with the curious feeling of having witnessed something that doesn't exist but nevertheless convinces us of its truth. This enchanting love poem to the purity of a child's heart is distilled out of the lives of real people (the director claims that the cast played themselves) whose struggles to survive are anything but fantasy. Gatlif has lovingly crafted a fable about the nourishing energy of a child's guileless smile that challenges stereotypes and never sidesteps the harsh realities of homelessness. The affectless Romanian newcomer Ovidiu Balan plays the title character, a clever young Gypsy boy without a known past who for awhile graces the sunny streets and beaches of Nice before disappearing into an uncertain future. Amidst the city's oblivious tourists and oppressive police, Mondo survives on discarded market vegetables, plucked pomegranates, dewy leaves, and nectar-filled flowers. With open smile he befriends a street magician and his Kurdish wife, an elderly hobo who keeps a pair of doves in a ventilated suitcase, a fisherman who teaches him the alphabet by scratching the letters on beach stones, and a lonely Jewish-Vietnamese woman who takes him in when he's sick. Strung together like pearls, Gatlif's scenes are episodic gems. Neither cloyingly romantic nor sentimental, they succeed in visualizing the peculiarity of childhood wonder. At the beach Mondo awakens to waves of oranges adorned with strange inscriptions. He falls asleep in a garden ringed by onlooking statues that seem to speak to him. In conversation with the fisherman about distant lands, he wonders about the Red Sea, whether sharks dwell there, and whether they are mean (a clear homage to "Son of the Shark," Agnes Merlet's brilliant 1993 portrait of homeless children). Gatlif and his cinematographer, Eric Guichard, give these and other scenes a nearly mythic quality, but are no less brilliant as their sense of enchanted reverie gives way to darker chords. It's a tribute to Gatlif's sensitive expressiveness that as Mondo curls up near a busy, impersonal street, a swallowing, escalating cacophony of pulsating horns brings home with terrifying conviction the fragility of his nomadic life.
This lively comedy is about a twenty-something black video-store clerk and aspiring filmmaker named Cheryl (played by director Dunye) whose first project, a documentary, grows out of her enthrallment with an obscure 30s black actress credited only as "Watermelon Woman." Her research reveals the actress to be one Fae Richards who was having a love affair with her white female director. While struggling to make her film, Cheryl becomes involved with Diana (Guin Turner of "Go Fish"), an alluring white customer whose volunteer work with poor black children and her penchant for black lovers causes suspicion in the tangy Tamara (Valarie Walker), Cheryl's co-worker. Dunye uses a faux documentary strategy - Cheryl's project allows Dunye to use archival stills, narration delivered directly to the camera, and an array of interviews with real people including members of the lesbian, black, and feminist communities playing satirical variations on themselves. In a self-spoofing cameo, cultural critic Camille Paglia tries to put a positive spin on racial stereotypes to hilarious effect. But while Dunye's film has a funky, engaging charm, it only whets the appetite for a comprehensive documentary on African American cinema; she barely touches on it here. Moreover, Cheryl's and Diana's love affair ends long before the racial issues raised are explored. "The Watermelon Woman" promises a young woman's budding search for personal and cultural identity but eventually fails to bear fruit.
Gabel and Hahn left Los Angeles by car one recent Summer armed with a couple of video cameras and a great deal of charm. Their quest: to traverse the country asking people about the health of the American Dream. It's a mixed bag of interviews with mostly prominent individuals. Some are rather perfunctory including those with filmmaker John Waters, rapper Chuck D., and a shaggy George Stephanopoulos who gave the pair about as much attention as the White House's security dog. Others are quite penetrating including those with Land Institute founder Wes Jackson who refers to how the dream is transformed as the land is transformed, actor-director Robert Redford on how little his generation and its "pathetic leadership" have left today's youth, and passionate Native American activist Winona Laduke concluding that the American Dream is unsustainable because it's based on unsustainable premises. Much of the film's appeal comes from the filmmakers' witty asides and their low-budget chutzpah; we are encouraged to believe we could make a movie tomorrow by taking to the road with the family Handycam. But it's also a kick seeing celebrities outside their normally controlled media arenas. R.E.M.'s Michael Stipe immediately reveals his hernia scar, electronic frontier guru John Perry Barlow looks lovingly upon his two daughters as he admits that it's time for women to take over, and "gonzo" journalist Hunter S. Thompson later reveals weariness at maintaining his image. Most of their subjects were cautiously optimistic. A delightful Studs Terkel, while lamenting that the dream of "a classless society is the joke of the century," went on to say that while he's not optimistic, he is hopeful, saying that, after all, the only alternative is "to put my head in the oven." "Anthem" is devoid of the smugness that marred Andrei Codrescu's "Road Scholar," but not nearly as penetrating as George Kachadorian's "God's Trombone." Still, it's a largely unpretentious, spontaneous-feeling summer trip worth taking.
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
Contents this page were published in the July/August, 1997 edition of the Washington Free Press.
WFP, 1463 E. Republican #178, Seattle, WA -USA, 98112. -- WAfreepress@gmail.com
Copyright © 1997 WFP Collective, Inc.