Kunqu
Opera has had its ups and downs in popularity, reaching its lowest point when
it was forbidden during the Cultural Revolution. It is currently enjoying a
revival, but sadly the great Kunqu performer Susu did not live to see it
happen. However, she still remains a constant presence in the lives of her British
family, but in a dysfunctional, unhealthy, Daphne Du Maurier kind of way. Two
Chinese students will come to the family mansion for a weekend translation gig,
but they will find it is suspiciously hard to leave in Yixi Sun’s Susu (trailer here), which screens
during the 2018 Seattle International Film Festival.
Qi’an
and Aimo are friends and roommates, but there are key differences between them.
Qi’an is a good student from a good family, neither of which is true of Aimo.
They share a few secrets as well that will be divulged during the course of the
film. Despite her family’s status, Qi’an works hard to pay her own way, so she
jumps at the chance to do some temp work cataloguing the Stuart estate,
starting with rare films of Susu’s performances, while Aimo is happy to come
along for a weekend holiday in the country.
Their
host will be wheelchair-bound Shirley, whose sexual identity, family position,
and sanity status are all rather ambiguous. Initially, both women feel better
when Susu’s Anglo son Benjamin Stuart arrives. In fact, Aimo rather intends to challenge
the largely disinterested Qi’an for his affections. However, she will have a
hard time overcoming Qi’an’s resemblance to Susu and its creepy V.C. Andrews
effect on him. Eventually, Qi’an is ready to bolt, but strange events conspire
to prevent her leaving or force her return.
Susu is not a perfect
film by any stretch of the imagination, but it is quite enjoyable for the ways
it synthesizes various gothic and related influences, including Du Maurier,
Andrews, Henry James, Don’t Look Now,
Hammer Films, and Giallos. There is also some integration of Chinese cultural
elements—Susu happens to be a character name in The Legends of the White Snake (the demon who married a human) while
Qi’an arguably represent contemporary archetypes of Chinese expats—but we wish
there had been even more Kunqu references.
Regardless,
Zitong Wu and Zhu Lin are terrific as Qi’an and Aimo, respectively. Frankly, it
is a little shocking to see Zhu, who was so touchingly sweet and endearing in 33 Postcards playing the worldly Aimo,
but she still lights up the screen. This time (nearly six years later), she
exudes sexuality rather than innocent pluckiness. Wu is more reserved, but she
conveys a sense of wheels turning in her head. She also does indeed bear a
strong resemblance to Junjie Mao, who hams it up Hammer-style as Susu in the
flashback sequences. Similarly, Steve Edwin gorges on scenery as the sinister “Shirley,”
but it is hard to even discuss such a role in the current climate Social
Justice Warrior-contempt for free speech and honest criticism.
