SIFF ’18: Wrath of Silence

Life is cheap in China’s northern coal mines, especially Zhang Baomin’s miserable hardscrabble existence, but good luck trying to cash him in. The mute miner has a titanium skull and a quicksilver temper. When his young son mysteriously disappears, Zhang return home to search for him, one brawl at a time, in Xin Yukun’s Wrath of Silence (trailer here), which screens during the 2018 Seattle International Film Festival.

Zhang has been mute since he accidentally bit his own tongue off during a youthful melee. Lately, he has been working in a mine in a neighboring district, to avoid awkward encounters with the mutton-house proprietor, whose left eye was blinded during a violent tussle with the miner. There is not a lot of love for Zhang among the villagers, but they still have a good deal of sympathy for him when Lei mysteriously vanishes while tending his sheep.

The dour Zhang hits the pavement, showing Lei’s picture around. That is how he finds himself at another mine, just when goons from Chang Wannian’s mining empire come to break up the joint. They weren’t counting on a hothead like Zhang being there. Zhang’s subsequent meeting with Chang is supposed to intimate him into passivity, but instead, it leads the brawling father to suspect the mogul is responsible for his son’s disappearance. He will definitely follow up on that, but not in a very subtle manner. To add further complications, Chang’s witness-tampering attorney Xu Wenjie is under investigation, which turns up the pressure on him.

Wrath could very well be the most violent socially-aware class-conscious film possibly ever produced in the history of cinema. Compared to Zhang, Wolverine is a hand-wringing doormat. There are times when Xin is clearly riffing on the hallway fight in the original Oldboy, but he tries his best to top its brutality. Yet, the corrupt and arbitrary nature of the contemporary Chinese legal system and social structures is always readily apparent. In fact, Wrath is closely akin to Chang Zheng’s Explosion, both stylistically and ideologically, but it is more action-driven, by at least a factor of five.

Even though he never speaks a peep, Song Yang is absolutely riveting as Zhang. You can practically see the black smoke coming out of his ears, in what could very well be his best performance to date. As Chang, Jiang Wu manages to chew even more scenery than he did in Shock Wave, which is definitely saying something. Yuan Wenkang’s Xu is quite a cold fish, but that is what the film requires—and he delivers accordingly.

Xin’s previous film A Coffin in the Mountain was more of a twisty noir in the spirit of early Coen Brothers, but Wrath has a similarly keen sense of place. He hails from Baotao, Inner Mongolia, so he clearly has a deep understanding of the people and the hardships they face. Yet, there is so much hard-charging mayhem, it is easy to forget you are watching an incisive critique of Chinese inequities.

Given the combination of amusement park violence and unvarnished social realism, it is not hard to fathom why a Party apparatchik decided Wrath was bad for business and had it spiked from domestic distribution. Of course, that is also a sure sign of quality. Very highly recommended, Wrath of Silence screens tonight (6/8) and Sunday (6/10), as part of this year’s SIFF.

SIFF ’18: Girls Always Happy

Wu is her mother’s daughter. She never forgets a slight and has a flair for the dramatic. However, we cannot say whether she is her father’s daughter, because he hasn’t been around for a long time. That partially explains their precarious financial situation. General Chinese cultural attitudes on gender and class do not help much either, but they share plenty of culpability for their own bad choices. They are almost like an anti-Ozu movie, but mother and daughter still come together when they need to in Yang Mingming’s Girls Always Happy (trailer here), which screens during the 2018 Seattle International Film Festival.

Wu and her mother live together, rather uncomfortably, in one of the last remaining hutongs, because they squandered an opportunity for relocation money. However, they still tip-toe around and flirt with the landlord, because rent is always an iffy proposition. They fall into a recurring pattern, fighting like cats and dogs, after which Wu sulks, while her mother leaves her passive-aggressive, guilt-tripping voice messages. Yet, they also come together as a team when visiting Wu’s grandfather, in hopes of securing an inheritance.

Girls Always Happy is not exactly a comedy, but it has a fair amount of humor that translates much more readily than the broad, silly farces the Chinese film industry is so determined to export. Just about everyone will understand the relationship between Wu and her mother. Half the time, the subtitles probably aren’t even necessary, because we can get the gist from their sour facial expressions and tense body language.

The film also has the distinction of co-starring two well-regarded independent Chinese film producers: Nai An (producer of Lou Ye’s Spring Fever, Mystery, and Blind Massage) and Zhang Xianmin (Old Dog and Fujian Blue). The former has previously also played several memorable emotionally-distressed mothers in When Night Falls and What Tears Us Apart. That probably explains the posters for the Beijing Independent Film Festival (which has been harassed into limbo by the Communist government) on the walls of Wu’s film professor lover, Zhang.

Both Nai An and Yang are completely believable and absolutely remarkable as the culture-clashing mother and daughter. Sometimes, it is uncomfortable to watch them go at each other, yet in the next scene they can share a beautiful quiet moment together.

In many ways, Girls Always Happy tells a universal story, but it still has a strong sense of place and time. The traditional hutong setting is just as critically important as Wu’s ultra-now sensibilities. Yang sneaks in some sly commentary as well, such as the cynical way Wu and her lover discuss screenwriting for the “anti-Japanese” genre. Yet, despite all their disappointments and resentments, Wu and her mother remain indomitable. It is a smart, biting film that pays off nicely. Recommended for fans of domestic dramas (but maybe not for mothers and daughters to watch together), Girls Always Happy screens tomorrow (6/8) and Saturday (6/9), as part of this year’s SIFF.

SIFF ’18: Susu

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.

The London-based, Chinese born-and-raised Sun credits British horror director Norman J. Warren as a mentor, which is cool, but Susu is a much lusher and atmospheric film. Although there are too many flashbacks that do not feature Mao, she clearly has a thorough understanding of the British horror tradition. It is just a lot of fun, like watching a stately Jane Eyre adaptation turn into a Giallo. Highly recommended for genre fans, Susu screens Tuesday (6/5) and Friday (6/8), as part of this year’s SIFF.

SIFF ’18: Mutafukaz

The city is clearly a dystopian Los Angeles, as envisioned in Japanese-style anime animation, by a team of French and Japanese filmmakers. In the not too distant future, LA (or least the neighborhood provocatively known as “Dark Meat City (DMC)” is plagued by gang violence and government corruption, so very little has changed. There also might be an alien conspiracy secretly calling the shots behind the curtain. Presumably, that part is fiction. The plot points might be old hat, but the visuals are truly eye-popping throughout Shojiro Nishimi & Guillaume Renard’s French-language Mutafukaz (trailer here), which screens during the 2018 Seattle International Film Festival.

There are not a lot of jobs in DMC, but Angelino still manages to get fired regularly. He is the one with the round, shiny 8-ball-like head. Orphaned at a young age, as a result of the tragic events seen during the prologue and subsequent flashbacks, Angelino essentially grew up fending for himself. However, he now has a real friend in his roommate Vinz, a lovable loser with a flaming skull for a head. Angelino has also bonded with the swarms of cockroaches living in their decrepit building, despite Vinz’s misgivings. Willy, the socially inept kitten or dormouse or whatever, is not exactly their close buddy, but they tolerate his compulsively talking presence.

One day, Angelino notices horns and assorted demonic appendages growing out of the shadows of some of DMC’s denizens—mostly those in positions of authority. Of course, when they realize he can “see,” like Rowdy Roddy Piper in They Live, the conspiracy starts hunting Angelino and his friends. Much to his surprise, the stress brings out the ominous powers lying dormant within Angelino.

That is all pretty standard X-Files stuff, but there are a few things that really distinguish Mutafukaz. First of all, the animation, particularly the wonderfully baroque and eccentric looking world of DMC. Nishimi served as character designer and animation director on Tekkonkinkreet, so the two films’ pronounced stylistic kinship certainly makes sense. Renard’s screenplay also has a defiantly anarchic sense of humor, which often pokes self-referential fun at itself. Yet, perhaps the most appealing aspect of the film is the simple and honest friendship shared by Angelino and Vinz. There was no great drama that brought them together, but when trouble comes their way, they stick together.

Mutafukaz started as a short film, evolved into a graphic novel series, before coming full circle as a feature, so there is mostly likely plenty of ready mythology to accommodate future films. It looks great, but it would be even better without all the familiar Men in Black business, simply focusing on Angelino, Vinz, and Willy as they try to survive the lunatic world around them. Recommended for its heart and style (but not its narrative), Mutafukaz screens Tuesday (5/29) and Thursday (5/31), as part of this year’s SIFF.

SIFF ’18: The Bold, the Corrupt, and the Beautiful

Nothing drives corruption like government land use policy. Of course, if you throw in some illicit sex and jealousy, things can really get explosive. The Tang family will find themselves in the eye of a brewing storm when their loves and lusts exacerbate a political scandal in Yang Ya-che’s shamelessly entertaining The Bold, the Corrupt, and the Beautiful (trailer here), which screens during the Seattle International Film Festival.

Madame Tang is ostensibly just an antiquities dealer, but she has leveraged her position as the widow of a revered general to become a behind-the-scenes political power broker. She has essentially given up grooming her oldest daughter Tang Ning, whose disgust at her mother’s amoral machinations manifests in various forms of self-medication (sex, booze, pills, awkward scenes in public). Instead, her youngest daughter, fourteen-ish Tang Chen most often assumes co-hostess duties.

In anticipation of a major developed project, Madame Tang has guided her political associates to buy up parcels in an otherwise sleepy rural district, using shell companies. Her circle of influence includes the regal wife of the speaker and up-and-coming legislator Lin, whose family is the Tangs’ nearest neighbors. However, the deal starts to fall apart when the Lin family is mysteriously massacred in their home. Only their teenage daughter Lin Pien-pien survives, but only just barely, in a comatose state. Tang Chen will be assigned her bedside vigil, even though her relationship with the somewhat older teen is complicated—just like everything else having to do with the Tangs.

Like Yang’s Girlfriend Boyfriend, Bold is set in Taiwan during the 1980s, but they feel like they are worlds apart. While his previous film is unabashedly earnest, Bold is dark, twisted, and maybe even a little lurid, but it sure is fun to watch the Tang family and their associates behave spectacularly badly. There is always another shoe left to drop, but Yang primary and over-riding concern is always Madame Tang’s dysfunctional relationships with her daughters. Gosh, this would be such a nice film for Mother’s Day viewing.

Speaking of mothers, the great Kara Wai [Hui] (amid her latest career renaissance) knocks it out of the park as the sly, string-pulling Madame Tang. One knowing look from her is worth more than a mountain of CGI effects. Of course, we always knew she was awesome. Probably the biggest surprise is Wu Ke-xi, who is best known for her remarkably bold but naturalistic work in Midi Z’s docu-like films. As the hot mess sister Tang Ning, she proves she can preen, seduce, and Dynasty-slap fiercer than anyone. Holy cats, can she ever burn up the screen. Yet, Vicky Chen (a.k.a. Qi Chen, who was such a revelation in Angels Wear White) hangs with them both as the deceptively innocent-looking, utterly destabilizing Tang Chen.

Bold is a deliciously cynical film that is also kind of trashy, but in the best way possible. Frankly, it would be fitting if Madame Tang warned viewers to buckle-up their seat belts, a la late Bette Davis, because this is definitely a roller coaster ride. It is just your basic sarcastic political melodrama, with a considerable body-count, so what’s not to like? Very highly recommended, The Bold, the Corrupt, and the Beautiful screens tonight (5/19), next Saturday (5/26), and the following Monday (5/28), as part of this year’s SIFF.

SIFF ’18: Suleiman Mountain

History and religion have not been kind to Kyrgyzstan. They are still stuck with the trappings and infrastructure of the mid-1980s Communist era, while chauvinistic attitudes keep them from evolving into a modern society. The nation is overwhelmingly Muslim, but there is also a shamanistic tradition. Unfortunately, many now equate shamanism with fakery. Karabas and his first wife Zhipara are partly to blame for that. When they reunite, they start pulling some of their old scams together, much to the consternation of his new second life. There isn’t a sitcom on network TV that reflects this not-so modern family unit, perhaps because its long-term viability is not such a sure thing in Elizaveta Stishova’s Suleiman Mountain (trailer here), which screens during the Seattle International Film Festival.

When Zhipara finds her long-lost son Uluk in an orphanage, Karabas welcomes them both back into his unstable life. In the meantime, he also married the now-pregnant Turaganbubu, but polygamy remains an acceptable practice in “modern” Kyrgyzstan. She wants nothing to do with Uluk and Zhipara, but Karabas is fiercely loyal to his son. Yet, he is so gruff and generally irresponsible, he ends up crushing all the boy’s expectations. Frankly, Karabas is not much, but Kyrgyzstani society is such that both Zhipara and Turaganbubu believe they need him as a protector.

Named for the spiritually and geologically significant landmark, Suleiman Mountain takes viewers to an exotic locale, rarely seen in film, but gives them a distinctly gritty, hardscrabble view of life there. Everyone in Kyrgyzstan has it hard, but Karbas’s invariably bad decisions always make things worse. Despite his somewhat picaresque nature, it is often painful to watch his corrosive influence on the people around him. Yet, there is no denying the film’s raw energy and unvarnished honesty.

Asset Imangaliev is so believably self-centered and self-sabotaging as Karabas, viewers will want to pummel him, after only twenty minutes. Turgunay Erkinbekova similarly comes across utterly naturally as the confused and resentful Turganbubu. Yet, Perizat Ermanbetova towers above everyone as the weary but resourceful Zhipara.

S Mountain is the sort of film that feels very docu-like, even though it tells a fictional narrative. It is also a rather remarkable depiction of motherhood and parenthood, for reasons that are too complicated to explain. It has virtually zero commercial prospects, because it is not a film that files down rough edges or sugar-coats anything, but it very definitely invites viewers to walk in the shoes of people very different from us. Recommended for anyone intrigued by the Central Asian Republics, Suleiman Mountain screens today (5/18) and Sunday (5/20), as part of this year’s SIFF.

SIFF ’18: The Eternal Road

Scandinavians have a calm, quiet image, but Finnish history in the early 20^th Century was anything but. The Whites fought the Soviet back Reds in their 1918 Civil War, but Finns fought for their very existence against the invading Soviets during the Winter War of 1939 and the subsequent Continuation War. In between, an estimated 6,000 Finnish Americans immigrated to the USSR out of socialist solidarity. Jussi Ketola did not join them voluntarily, but as a “guest” of the workers’ paradise, he is not allowed to leave. Unfortunately, he is not exactly comfortable there, nor is he warmly welcomed either in Antti- Jussi Annila’s The Eternal Road (trailer here), which screens during the Seattle International Film Festival.

Rugged, taciturn Ketola is assumed to hold vaguely socialist sympathies, but he is also a farmer, so he was drafted by the Whites, before immigrating to America, only to return during the Great Depression. Unfortunately, that gives him little credit with the White score-settlers, who threaten to lynch him near the Soviet border. The good news is he escapes alive. The bad news is he wakes up Petrozavodsk, where a NKVD officer rather playfully informs Ketola he is suspected of being a spy. It is not that they really believe he arrived with a bullet in his side to commit espionage, but it is a way of exerting control over him.

The cheerfully sinister Kallonen wants Ketola to inform on his new hosts at Hopea, a collective farm operated by Finnish-American Christian socialists. They believe in Stalin’s Russia, even though they are believers, but as the Purges start escalating in the mid-1930s, it will only be a matter of time before they wind up on the chopping block. However, Ketola makes a new life for himself there, marrying the widowed Sara and adopting her eight-year daughter Mary. For six years, he manages to keep Kallonen at bay, but 1936 will be an ugly and tragic time for everyone on the collective farm.

Based on fact, Eternal Road shines a spotlight on some little-known history. You do not hear very much about the American immigrants to the Soviet Union, because that is exactly how Stalin wanted it. The very idea of a Christian collective farm in Stalinist Russia also boggles the mind, but such institution was obviously surgically removed from all Soviet media and memory as well. Even more fundamentally, the film reminds us just how predatory and belligerent the USSR behaved towards Finland during the inter-war era.

Ketola is definitely a strong silent time, but as the epic everyman, Tommi Korpela broods and slow-burns like nobody’s business. However, it is Hannu-Pekka Björkman who really lands the knock-out punch as the jovially evil Kallonen. He is truly one of the year’s great villains, but it is important to note, everything he does is grounded in historical truth. Somewhere between the two poles of Korpela and Björkman, Danish Sidse Babett Knudsen (probably the most recognizable cast-member, from Borgen, Westworld, and 1864) anchors the film as the passionate but down-to-earth Sara.

Annila helms with a sure-hand, capturing the complexities of the era, while depicting Soviet brutality in powerful, unambiguous terms. This is a sweeping epic, but the practical matter-of-factness with which the characters face their crises and carry on is rather touching. Very highly recommended, The Eternal Road screens tomorrow (5/18), Tuesday (5/22), and Wednesday (5/23), as part of this year’s SIFF.