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Film: Riding Alone For Thousands Of Miles
Release date: 13th August 2007
Certificate: PG
Running time: 105 mins
Director: Yimou Zhang & Yasuo Furuhata
Starring: Ken Takakura, Kiichi Nakai, Jiang Wen, Shinobu Terajima, Qiu Lin
Genre: Drama
Studio: Sony
Format: DVD
Country: Hong Kong/China/Japan
Yimou Zhang and his long-time director of photography Xiaoding Zhao, the pair of whom crafted the beautiful House Of Flying Daggers and Curse Of The Golden Flower, once again create a film of stunning beauty both visually and emotionally, as a father begins his quest to get closer to his son.
Gou-ichi Takata (Ken Takakura) has become estranged from his son over many years, and his only remaining link is his daughter-in-law, Rie (Shinobu Terajima), who is desperately trying to get Ken-ichi to see his father again. When Takata discovers that his son has terminal cancer, he travels into central Tokyo for the first time in more than a decade only to find his son rejecting his visit.
In a desperate attempt for her father-in-law to know his son, Rie hands him a tape of her husband’s television work on his greatest love – Chinese folk operas. In a final bid to do something for his son, Takata decides to go to China to find singer Li Jiamin, watch his performance of Riding Alone For Thousands Of Miles, and film it for his son.
He is impeded every step of the way by protocol, suspicion, the fact that he is a gaijin (foreigner) and, most of all, by the fact that the performer his son wanted to see now resides in a prison. Takata works tirelessly with the help of an unlikely friend, Lingo, and a kindly translator, as his quest takes him deep into rural China to find another man’s son, so he can find his own…
Those more accustomed to Zhang’s previous works might consider Riding Alone For Thousands Of Miles to be altogether more simplistic. With this film, the visuals, whilst astounding, are overshadowed by a set of heartfelt performances from a dedicated and talented cast. The performance provided by Ken Takakura is especially engaging, as his character is forced to come to terms with facts about himself and his son. His performance is both endearing and heart-rending, filled with poignancy and pain. In one conversation, realising just how little he ever knew his son, he implores his translator to “tell me about my son,” only to discover that despite their differences, they were more similar than either of them ever knew.
The film is able to tackle a wide range of complex emotions from loss, grievance and fear, to elation and comfort, and throughout the film, there are constant reminders of the level of isolation the characters are suffering. Takata is in a country where he can’t speak the language, and is dependent on a phone signal to get translations; Yang Yang is an orphan before Takata appears to take him to his father; Rie is left with only a dying husband; and the further the film develops, the further into rural China they travel, and the more isolated the environments become. The performances afforded by the cast are responsible for much of the on screen emotion. It is, however, a boon to discover a film dealing with pain and isolation that somehow still manages to incorporate a subtle humour throughout the film, such as the repeated prison scenes in which, despite being a folk opera, the warden deems it necessary to have a disco light rotating – simply because it is there. Slight elements of humour throughout the film enable a somewhat bitter film to become far more palatable.
The pace of the film occasionally develops a sluggish feeling, however, but it is rapidly compensated for by a set of astounding visuals, which might not live up to the likes of House Of Flying Daggers but still manage to create a picturesque beauty out of the most barren and inhospitable landscapes. These landscapes contribute to the isolated feeling constant within the film, and Zhao’s cinematography allows a feeling of warmth to even a sheltered cavern in the wilderness - and the very simplicity and natural beauty of the shot allows the film a depth previously unplumbed.
Whilst there is predictability within the film that cannot be denied, there is a shift in the archetypal characters, which makes the film more interesting. The seemingly generic plot of a sick father attempting to make amends to his children is sometimes overplayed after so many years, but subverting it to a surviving father trying to make amends to a dying child is slightly more novel, and allows Riding Alone For Thousands Of Miles to interact with slightly different subject matters. The idea of a child burying a parent is distressing but a part of life, whereas the idea of a parent burying a child is open to a more emotional impact. The film is ready and willing to tug at the heartstrings, and does so with as much vigour as any tear-jerker out there,
This is not a standard tear-jerker – it is a film that grips you, that you feel, and one that reminds you what the important things in life really are, if only for the duration. This bittersweet film might seem slightly predictable in places, but it is a film that truly proves it’s not the destination that counts, it’s the journey. JK
Film: Black Snow
Release date: 8th March 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 107 mins
Director: Xie Fei
Starring: Jiang Wen, Yue Hong, Cheng Lin, Hongxiang Cai
Genre: Crime/Drama
Studio: Second Run
Format: DVD
Country: China
Black Snow is a pretty straight-forward tragic-drama in which our protagonist, a criminal who’s paid his dues, finds his path to a quiet life barred by his past in particular, and society in general. However, the curiosity factor is high as this film was made in Beijing, back in 1990.
Li Huiquan was arrested for his part in an assault in which a man was stabbed by his best friend, Chazi. Returning from a three year sentence in a labour camp, Li Huiquan arrives to his family home to find it deserted - his mother having passed away a few months earlier. He tries to connect with Chazi’s family, but they have turned their back on him.
Things start to improve when, after setting up a market stall, he meets a black marketer called Cui Yongli, who is able to supply him with more attractive goods and is asked to escort a young singer called Zhou home from a nightclub. Soon he is earning more money and has a shot at romance. However, it doesn’t last, as Yongli tries to pressure Li into undertaking more illicit merchandise and manages to steer the singer away from him. Not only that, but Chazi has escaped from prison...
Black Snow doesn’t deliver any thrills or action moments. Instead it’s a stark portrayal of a man trying to survive a system set up to oppose him. Left semi-literate thanks to the Cultural Revolution, Li survived by being in a gang, with a reputation for being a tough guy. One night he drunkenly accepts the notion of taking revenge on his friend’s two-timing girlfriend by beating up the man she’s cheating with – and he doesn’t seem to have any qualms about what Chazi intends to do with the girl.
Xie Fei’s film, although made in 1990, feels like it belongs in another era, a hybrid of Italian neorealism or French New Wave. The authentic, poverty-stricken locations lend to the former, while the red-lit nightclubs and cool-looking star point to the latter. The camera at times takes a neutral, fly-on-the-wall stance, while at other times, especially when nothing is actually going on, the camera slowly glides around, taking in little details (such as the pictures stuck on Li’s bedroom wall).
The neorealism is accentuated by the lack of a score (save for the songs Zhou peforms during her act). Instead we are constantly treated to the background noise of the neighbourhood – trains passing by, families fighting, dogs barking…
Black Snow is shot in a linear fashion except for the flash-back which shows Li and Chazi’s crime. It arrives unexpectedly and there is no signpost to let you know you’re in a flash-back. Instead you’re left wondering what the hell Li has just done. This is compounded when a policeman visits him the next morning to reprimand Li on his behaviour the night before.
Jiang Wen does a great job as Li. Even though we only see him the once before his imprisonment, you can tell that three years hard labour has changed him. Li can barely read and write, which hinders his career potential. His lack of education is highlighted in the correspondence he has with Chazi, and when he comes across an open-air concert, he has no reference or understanding of what is happening on-stage - and is bewildered when the audience starts laughing. Li just wants to settle down and keep out of trouble. But like Michael Corleone, he keeps getting dragged into potentially dangerous situations. Most of which are related to his dogged loyalty to those who purport to be his friend but continually exploit him. As he begins to earn money though, Li can’t help but swagger a little bit, and he reminds me of the too-cool spirit of Chow Yun Fat in A Better Tomorrow – especially when he’s wearing his aviator sunglasses at night.
Cheng Lin, who plays Zhou, is actually a musician, and sang all the songs in the film. When we first meet Zhou, she is a naive young woman who was a finalist in a state-run talent competition. While her PR guy tries to promote her as the winner, the first thing she tells her audience is she actually came fourth. She and Li might have had a sweet romance – the first time he walks her home, at the behest of her management, Li rides his bike while she walks beside him. Later we see Li letting her ride on the back of the bike. People try to warn Zhou away from Li but she can’t see the dark side to him.
Li and Zhou might have had a chance, if it weren’t for Cui Yongli. Cui befriends Li because he remembers the tough guy before he went to prison and wants a bit of muscle within his circle. He has big schemes, such as selling copies of porn videos, and constantly has piles of black market goods stacked in his house, like Del Boy in Only Fools And Horses. Thanks to his involvement in Zhou’s life, she ends up being a much more jaded person, hanging onto her career and not letting anyone – even someone who cares for her, like Li – take her away from it.
Black Snow is a film that grows on you. The languid pace doesn’t make it the most obvious choice, but the style of filmmaking is unlike anything you’re likely to see today, and it offers a unique look at life on the bread line in Beijing twenty years ago. MOW
