Only Cloud Knows, on OVID.tv

Feng Xiaogang's return to weepy melodrama is sort of like his spin on Love Story. While Erich Segal’s bestseller was vaguely based on his famous Harvard classmates, Feng’s film was more specifically inspired by the tragic romance of his frequent collaborator Zhang Shu. In this case, love means having to sit through a lot of whale motifs in Feng’s Only Cloud Knows, which premieres Wednesday on OVID.tv.

It is never explained why Simon Sui Dongfeng and Jennifer Luo Yun felt compelled to leave Beijing, but because they did, they somehow managed to find each other in Auckland. Eventually, Feng flashback to their courtship, but first we follow Sui as he travels back to remote Clyde, NZ, which is the first stop on his ash-scattering tour.

For fifteen years, he and Luo lived relatively happily, as the proprietors of the unlikeliest located Chinese restaurant. They are good-friends with their on-again-off-again waitress (and world adventurer) Melinda and dote on their adopted mutt Blue. Yet, there is a sadness to Luo that Sui never fully understands, until he embarks on this soul-searching errand.

Feng has made some great films like Youth and I am Not Madame Bovary, but Only Cloud Knows is a perfect example of the tone deafness of Chinese soft power (as we traditionally consider it). In this case, there is little or no propaganda, but the unsubtle heartstring tugging is more likely to elicit cringes from Western audiences than tears. From the gauzy cinematography (at one point the characters even gather to gawk at the Southern Lights) to the treacly soundtrack, Only Clouds Knows is always way over the top, but never sufficiently self-aware to recognize that. It translates just fine, but it does not travel well.

Nor does it help that the leads, Huang Xuan and Yang Caiyu, though undeniable attractive, are quietly dull on-screen. Although Melinda is cloyingly “free-spirited,” Lydia Peckham’s portrayal is charismatic. Yet, probably the most compellingly performance (after Blue) comes from Feng-regular Xu Fan, who is relentlessly touching as Ms. Lin, the couple’s landlady in Auckland.

Feng Xiaogang at Asia Society: If You Are the One

It was a 2008 blockbuster that helped herald the rise of Mainland China’s homegrown tent-poles, but being at the top of the domestic box-office was already a familiar place for Feng Xiaogang. After trying his hand at jingoistic spectacle, he returned to the sentimental melodrama that had been his bread and butter (yet his boldest work was still ahead of him). Millions of Chinese movie fans have seen it, but it feels a little dated thirteen years later and not just because of the flip phones. Nevertheless, it is easy to understand why Ge You would be so interested in Shu Qi when they meet on a blind date in Feng’s If You Are the One, which screens online for free this weekend, as part of the Asia Society’s Feng retrospective.

Qin Fen is a middle-aged rogue who never amounted to much, until he sold a gimmicky invention to venture capitalist with more money than sense. Now ready to settle down, he places a personal add, because that sort of thing had not completely gone online yet. He has many blind dates that are uncomfortable in uniquely shticky ways, but his meeting with flight attendant Xiaxiao “Smiley” Liang takes the cake.

First of all, she is obviously way out of his league. She also seems to radiate a sense of sadness. Qin quickly decides they have no future and she agrees, but both reveal much of themselves over the course of their boozy “what the heck” conversation. In fact, IYATO might have been considered a masterpiece if it had ended after his riveting confession, around the half-hour mark.

Instead, fate brings them together again and again after that. Eventually, Liang even pretends she is serious about a relationship and marriage, even though he knows she still pines for her caddish married lover. They share a connection, but if it isn’t love, can it still be enough?

With Xi currently engaged in a weird crackdown on celebrity culture and the Chinese film industry, it is suddenly amusing to watch films from not so long ago to pick out the things that might be troublesome now. We wish no ill on her, but we have to wonder how long Taiwanese thesps like Shu Qi can continue to star in Mainland at the level they did during the pre-Xi Jinping era.

Feng also satirizes China’s go-go deal-making mentality in a way that maybe isn’t so funny in the wake of the Evergrande meltdown. Unfortunately, some of the film’s best parts could now be at risk, including Qin Fen’s great early monologue, which speaks directly about lack of legal and practical equality for women in China. He also has a notable scene with Vivian Hsu, portraying a Taiwanese blind-date, with whom he discusses his gratitude for the assistance Taiwan offered during the Shenzhen earthquake.

Feng Xiaogang’s Mysteriously Delayed Youth

It was a time of macro and micro bullying. In the waning years of the Cultural Revolution, He Xiaoping assumes the abuse she has endured all her life will stop once is accepted into a PLA dance troupe. Alas, social hierarchies are just as rigid within the ranks of the military company. As the daughter of an accused Rightist in a re-education camp, she still finds herself at the bottom of the pecking order. The friendships and rivalries within her troupe will span decades in Feng Xiaogang’s maybe not so mysteriously delayed Youth (trailer here), which is now playing in New York.

Feng has helmed some of Mainland China’s most patriotic blockbusters, so observers were surprised when Youth was suddenly pulled from its scheduled October 1^st release date. Some speculated the scenes of the never-spoken-of Sino-Vietnamese War were to blame, but it could just as easily be the frank depiction of Cultural Revolution’s injustices. Frankly, it is a miracle this film was allowed any kind of release whatsoever.

Indeed, for reasons that we eventually learn over time, the Cultural Revolution indirectly led to a rather rash act that immediately starts He off on the wrong foot with her more connected troupe-mates. Only the beloved Liu Feng (whose name is a play on that of propaganda martyr Lei Feng) ever shows her any compassion. Even the narrator, Xiao Suizi, is too timid to stand up for her, thereby risking social ostracism herself. Yet, that is precisely why Xiao rather than He is ultimately the film’s tragic figure.

Even after the Cultural Revolution ends with a whimper, the troupe is still caught up in dangerously tumultuous times. He will transfer to the nursing corps just in time to serve during the war with Vietnam. China would prefer to forget that one, but if reminded, they insist they were victorious, but the gore He witnesses suggests otherwise. Liu will also witness the horrors of war first-hand, thanks to a scandal that gets him cashiered out of the performance troupe.

In many ways, Youth is the film the respectable but over-hyped Testament of Youth was cracked up to be, but it is also much more. Despite the nostalgic tone, it clearly indicts modern China for deliberately turning its back on the service and sacrifice of Liu’s generation. However, at its most fundamental level, Youth is just an achingly sensitive coming of age drama. Even though very few viewers (even in China) will have served in PLA dance troupes, it will still evoke memories of boarding school, college, basic training, or whatever, when you were young and living amongst with a group of people your age. Some you liked, some you couldn’t stand, but you were all stuck going through the same things together.

Huang Xuan is still probably the best-known cast-member. He has been a solid and sometimes brave performer, especially in the films of Lou Ye, but his work as Liu is probably his most mature and fully dimensional performance yet. Miao Miao’s He is often so nakedly vulnerable, it is downright discomfiting to watch her. However, the greatest discovery might be the strikingly expressive Elane Zhong Chuxi as Xiao. Imagine having your heart-broken repeatedly by Nick Carraway in The Great Gatsby. That’s what her performance is like.

It is time for a major Feng Xiaogang retrospective. It is fair to say the political-ideological implications of Youth are complicated, which makes it interesting to unpack. It is also his follow-up to the absolutely exceptional I am not Madame Bovary, which was overtly critical of government corruption in China. Plus, his ostensibly larky Personal Tailor had some unexpected social commentary late in the third act. Could it be the man who helmed rah-rah films like Assembly, Back to 1942, and Aftershock is developing subversive tendencies? Whatever the cause, he is producing some of his best films.

Regardless of what it says about Feng continuing artistic evolution, Youth is a major film, from a major filmmaker. It is set against a sprawling canvas, but it has an exquisitely intimate feel, beautifully (Oscar-worthily) lensed by Luo Pan. Very highly recommended, Youth is now playing in New York, at the AMC Empire.

I am not Madame Bovary: Fan Bingbing as You’ve Never Seen Her Before

To understand Li Xuelian’s situation, you would be better served reading Kafka than Flaubert. Appealing her legal case all the way to Beijing is truly a Kafkaesque, Sisyphean process. Yet, Li persists because her honor is at stake. She was not merely betrayed by her ex-husband, he dubbed her a Pan Jinlian, in reference to the infamous murdering adulteress of Chinese literature. The title is awkwardly Flaubertized, but the portrayal of China’s legal and political system burns like acid in Feng Xiaogang’s darkly absurdist I am not Madame Bovary (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Li and her husband Qin Yuhe hatched a plan to temporarily divorce, thereby entitling him to a newer, larger company apartment of his own. Of course, they were to subsequently remarry after sufficient time had passed, except Qin double-crossed her, marrying another woman instead. Li is not sophisticated or well-educated, but she still will not take his treachery lying down. She will plead her case in court and when the provincial judges condescendingly dismiss her, she will appeal her to the county seat and ultimately all the way to Beijing.

At each level, Li gets the brush-off, but she is a quick study. By the time she reaches Beijing, she understands the value of symbolic protest. Soon after she stops the Party chairman’s limo, many of the bureaucrats who dismissed her case find themselves dismissed from their positions. Yet, that does not provide the satisfaction Li is seeking, so she will return.

Frankly, the legal appeals process in China is much more time consuming and even more profoundly unjust than suggested in Bovary. For the full picture, seek out Zhao Liang’s revelatory documentary Petition. However, as an indictment of government corruption and incompetence, is impressively bold, especially from director Feng, who previously helmed rah-rah films like Assembly, Aftershock, and Back to 1942. If you seriously contend the Party still cares about the people after watching Bovary, you must be both a fool and a knave.

It also features international superstar Fan Bingbing like you have never seen her before, in more ways than one. Seriously de-glamorized, she looks like the rustic peasant the officials so blithely assume her to be. Yet, she vividly projects earthy strength and a naïve vulnerability. Her performance is somewhat akin to Gong Li’s remarkable work in Zhang Yimou’s The Story of Qiu Ju, which partly bears thematic comparison to Bovary.

Frankly, we have never really seen Fan (or just about anyone else) framed this way either. Throughout all of the provincial scenes, Feng and cinematographer Luo Pan confine our view to a perfectly circular frame of vision, evoking a sense of rondo renaissance paintings. When the action moves to Beijing, the aspect ratio shifts to a still restrictive square. Only the devastating denouement is presented in something resembling standard wide-screen. It might sound like a gimmick, but it actually works, because each shot is so carefully composed. It also blocks out any extraneous distractions from Fan’s brutally honest and exposed star turn.

Of course, Fan has plenty of help from a large and convincing ensemble, most notably including Guo Tao as a potential second chance lover, but it is her show and she commandingly appears in nearly every scene. In a more just world, the best actress Oscar contest would be over now and possibly best director too. Regardless, it is a stunning film, especially coming from such a commercially popular tandem as Fan and Feng. Very highly recommended for anyone who considers film an art form, I am not Madame Bovary opens this Friday (11/18) in New York, at the Metrograph downtown and the AMC Empire in Midtown.

Mr. Six: Feng Xiaogang Delivers One of the Year’s Best Performances

Zhang Xuejun, a.k.a. Mr. Six is the sort of old timer who is always around to deliver a lecture on manners. However, this semi-retired gangster can back up his words. Mr. Six always lived by a code, but to the younger, nihilistic generation of thugs consider that a weakness. Still, he has character and that counts for a lot in Guan Hu’s Mr. Six (trailer here), which opens this Christmas Eve in New York.

Mr. Six is a stabilizing, protective figure in his working class Beijing hutong neighborhood, but he gets along better with his not-so-talkative songbird than his son Bobby. Mr. Six has not heard from the twentynothing since he moved out several months ago. He assumed the kid was just sulking as usual, until he finally starts asking round. It turns out Bobby was kidnapped by the punky nouveau riche leader of a street racing gang as part of a dispute over a girl and a scratched up Ferrari. Mr. Six understands Kris can act with impunity as the son of a corrupt government official, so he arranges to pay Bobby’s debt/ransom. Of course, complications continue to snowball.

Feng Xiaogang is one of China’s most commercially successful directors, who has occasionally turned up in front of the camera for relatively small roles. However, those brief appearances will not prepare fans for the heavy soulfulness of his performance as the title character. He hardly needs to speak a word (even though he delivers some stone cold dialogue with earthy flair)—the aching dignity and regret just radiates out of him. Thanks to his flinty presence and Guan’s reserved approach, Mr. Six might just be the definitive aging gangster.

He is also surrounded by a top-notch ensemble, starting with the kind of awesome Zhang Hanyu as Mr. Six’s slightly younger, hardnosed crony, Scrapper. He is probably worthy of his own film. Kris Wu also defies all expectations, bringing elements of humanity in his initially reckless and entitled namesake. Ironically, Li Yifeng hits a more consistent, less nuanced note as the resentful Bobby. Still, his shortcomings are redeemed by Xu Qing’s heartfelt but intelligent performance as Mr. Six’s patient lover, Chatterbox.

Mr. Six is a tremendous film that levels a potent critique of China’s contemporary social attitudes and government corruption. Thematically, it might sound a lot like Takeshi Kitano’s Ryuzo and His Seven Henchmen, but it is much closer in tone to the Michael Caine vehicle Harry Brown. Feng displays none of the bombast he unleashed in films like Assembly and Aftershock, giving a gritty, utterly real, street level performance. Even though it is not exactly inspirational, per se, Mr. Six is a great film to end the cinematic year with. Very highly recommended, Mr. Six opens this Thursday (12/24) in New York, at the AMC Empire.

Personal Tailor: A Little Wish Fulfillment

Yang Zhong is sort of like Mr. Roarke on Fantasy Island, except he is always on the make.  For a price, his company realizes their clients’ fantasies.  He is nobody’s altruist, but lessons will still be learned in Feng Xiaogang’s Personal Tailor (trailer here), which opens tomorrow in New York.

Yang is the “Director of Dreams,” his right hand man Ma Qing is the “Spiritual Anesthetist,” Miss Bai is the “Fantastician,” and Xiaolu Lu is the “Caterer of Whims.”  Together, they are “Personal Tailor” and they are used to some strange requests, like the creepy woman with a WWII martyr fetish in the James Bond-like prologue.  Many of their fantasy scenarios are a peculiar product of contemporary China, such as the chauffeur, whose recent string of bosses were all government officials convicted of corruption. Believing he would wield power more responsibly, the driver hires Personal Tailor to put his ethics to the test.

Much of the broad humor in Tailor is not particularly suited to the American market.  However, art house patrons familiar with the Digital Generation and related Chinese indie filmmakers will be amused by their next client.  Having achieved every possible measure of success for his “vulgar” films, a popular director hires Yang’s team to experience the world of art cinema, which Personal Tailor equates with hand-to-mouth Miserablism.

While the first two primary assignments are played largely for laughs, the third is a sweet tale with considerable heart.  To thank her for saving Ma from drowning, Yang’s team treats Mrs. Dan, a poor working woman, to a pro bono day as a Nouveau Riche industrialist. Song Dandan adds a touch of class and a strong screen presence in her “guest-starring” role and Feng’s bittersweet vibe is quite potent, making it Tailor’s most appealing full story arc thus far.

Almost shockingly, Tailor becomes quite pointed and strangely touching in its concluding sequences.  Lamenting the appalling state of China’s environment, Yang disperses the team on a spiritual apology mission.  It sounds corny, but it is effective.  In fact, Tailor reveals it was never the farce it pretended to be, but is in fact a work of political protest.  Yang and his colleagues bemoan the rampant corruption, widening class inequality, and environmental devastation just as strongly as Jia Zhangke’s followers, but in a manner far more accessible to Chinese popular audiences.

Chen Kaige regular Ge You is suitably manic as Yang, but dials it down nicely when the film gets serious.  Bai Baihe brings appropriate sass and seductiveness as Miss Bai, while Li Xiaolu plays the more demur Xiaolu Lu with greater sensitivity than one might expect.  Zheng Kai has the odd moment too, especially with the down-to-earth Song.

While some viewers might lose patience with Tailor’s goofiness, it is fascinating to see its serious side slowly emerge.  Frankly, one would not expect such a strong critique from Feng, who has established a reputation for flag-wavers, like Assembly and Back to 1942, which China has selected as their official submission for the best foreign language Academy Award.  Although clearly intended for popular audiences, China watchers should not dismiss it out of snobbishness. Recommended for those who prefer screwball comedy with their social commentary, Personal Tailor opens tomorrow (12/20) at the AMC Empire in New York and the AMC Cupertino in the Bay Area, courtesy of China Lion Entertainment.