TIFF ’18: Legend of the Demon Cat

Kûkai was like the Japanese Xuanzang (of Journey to the West immortality). He really did travel to China in search of Buddhist teachings. As amateur sleuths go, he inspires a good deal of confidence. That is not necessarily true of the great Tang poet Bai Juyi, but Kûkai needs somebody familiar with all of the capitol city’s brothels. Together, they will solve a mystery with supernatural implications in Chen Kaige’s Legend of the Demon Cat (trailer here), which screens during the 2018 Toronto International Film Festival.

Technically, it is not really a whodunit. The demonic cat did it—and he will do it a lot more. The question is why. Kûkai first finds traces of its nefarious activity when he is summoned to exorcise the emperor. Unfortunately, he arrives too late, but immediately suspects the furry demon. He also meets Bai Juyi, who is about to resign his post as the court recorder. It is from Bai that Kûkai hears gossip of a strange cat tormenting the household of the captain of the imperial guard. From there, they are off like Holmes and Watson on the trail of Captain Chen, which naturally runs through an elegant brothel.

In fact, it is fortunate they are there, so Kûkai can treat Chen’s former favorite, who is mysteriously afflicted with paranormal parasites. However, they really catch a break when they discover the diary of Nakamaro Abe, a Japanese expat, who watched the Emperor’s favorite concubine, Yang Guifei, meet her sad end. In an almost Shakespearean paradox, everybody at court loved her, especially including Abe, but she was doomed to die as a Marie Antoinette scapegoat. Of course, the cat is still rather ticked off about what happened, but to be fair, it did go down rather badly.

Frankly, it is hard to believe this is a Chen Kaige film, because it is relatively short on melodrama, but long on spectacle. It looks more like a Tsui Hark remake of Ghost Cat of Otama Pond. The fact that it is a Chinese-Japanese co-production is also a minor miracle. See, we can all get along after all. Regardless, it is a big film, with big sets, and big effects, and a weirdly idiosyncratic narrative based on Baki Yumemakura’s Japanese novel.

There are a lot of entertaining aspects to Demon Cat, starting with the laidback, unforced buddy chemistry that develops between Kûkai and Bai. Instead of bickering and bantering, they gently tease each other and eventually really start to open up and talk honestly. Shota Sometani is truly terrific as Kûkai, in a sly, understated kind of way. Huang Xuan plays off him nicely as Bai, but the character does not have the same heft and dimension.  Sad-eyed Hiroshi Abe radiates heartsickness as his morose namesake, while Sandrine Pinna is radiantly regal yet acutely tragic as Lady Yang.

Perhaps most importantly, Demon Cat vividly demonstrates how cool Buddhist monks can be. This is a messy, sprawling film, so it might be that sum of its parts is greater than its whole, but it would be a crying shame to miss those parts. There are at least half a dozen scenes viewers are sure to be talking about afterward. Highly recommended as a visually lavish jaunt into Tang-era intrigue and supernatural hijinks, Legend of the Demon Cat screens tonight (9/13) and Saturday (9/15) as part of this year’s TIFF.

Chen Kaige’s Caught in the Web

It is the age of the internet troll.  Abetted by the tabloid press, anonymous malcontents offer a steady stream of bullying invective aimed at impulsively chosen targets.  In this case, the locale is central China, but it could happen here too.  One woman is tragically ensnared in a joint new media-old media feeding frenzy at the start of Chen Kaige’s of-the-moment contemporary drama Caught in the Web (trailer here), which opens today in New York.

During a routine check-up, Ye Lanqiu receives some devastating news: advanced lymphatic cancer, requiring immediate treatment she cannot afford.  Dazed, she returns to work on the bus, not noticing the old man coveting her seat.  When he complains, she tells him where to get off.  Unfortunately, it was all captured on the smart-phone of Yang Jiaqi, who is interning at a television station with her cousin’s ambitious girlfriend, Chen Ruoxi.  By the end of the day, Chen will make Ye notorious as “Sunglasses Girl.”

However, Ye’s problems are only getting starting.  Seeking a loan and an emergency leave from her industrialist boss, Shen Liushu, Ye breaks down before she can fully explain her dire circumstances.  At the worst possible moment, Shen’s high maintenance wife Mo Xiaoyu walks in on them, naturally misconstruing the intimate scene.  As Ye becomes a public pariah, Mo pours gasoline on the fire, antagonizing her husband and jeopardizing his big deal with an American firm.  While Shen and Mo wage their cold war and Chen bottom feeds, Ye goes into hiding, hiring her nemesis’s increasingly disillusioned boyfriend Yang Shoucheng as her bodyguard.

Whew, end of set-up. From there things get complicated.  Chen and his co-screenwriter Tang Danian have scripted the closest thing to a Chinese Tom Wolfe story you will find, chocked to the brim with intertwined characters and loads of zeitgeisty angst.  At times, they flirt dangerously with shameless melodrama, but the quiet dignity of Gao Yuanyuan’s lead performance saves their bacon every time.  It is a reserved, but deeply tragic turn, nicely matched by the restraint of the Taiwanese-Canadian Mark Chao as her reluctant protector, Yang Shoucheng.

In contrast, Chen’s frequent collaborator Wang Xuegi and his actress-producer-wife Chen Hong produce some spectacular fireworks as the crafty old Shen and his impulsive wife.  Perhaps fittingly, Chen Ruoxi is played by Yao Chen, who holds the distinction of having the most followers on China’s micro-blogging service, Sina Weibo.  She has also “Weiboed” on behalf of journalists challenging official state censorship, which makes her massively cool as well as popular.  She really digs into the character, portraying both her ruthless ambition and her deep-seated insecurities.  It is award caliber work that truly makes the film.

Cinematographer Yang Shu (an alumnus of Chen’s Sacrifice) gives it a slick, austere polish that well suits the in-the-now class conscious morality tale.  It is a relatively rare contemporary piece from Chen Kaige, but he adroitly manages the large ensemble and keeps the complex proceedings moving along at a healthy clip.  Thanks to Yao and Gao, Caught has real dramatic force, as well as a real message.  As long as the media focuses on the next “Sunglasses Girl,” they will ignore more inconvenient stories for the powers that be. (That applies beyond China too—just compare the coverage granted the Kardashians to analysis warning of the millions of individual insurance policies that will be canceled under Obamacare.)  Highly recommended both for fans of Chinese films and those who appreciate shrewdly observed social cinema, Caught in the Web opens today (11/27) in New York at the Village East.

Chen Kaige’s Sacrifice

Generally ascribed to Yuan Dynasty playwright Ji Junxiang, The Orphan of Zhao is the first Chinese play to be translated in Europe.  It was even adapted (quite liberally) for the French stage by Voltaire.  Profoundly tragic but also rather violent in places, it has timeless elements that continue to appeal to audiences.  Celebrated auteur Chen Kaige vividly captures both qualities in his grand big screen version, Sacrifice (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

General Tu Angu is not a man to take the slights of the Zhao clan lightly.  Framing the patriarch and his son, General Zhao Shuo, for the murder of the ruling Duke, Tu uses the outrage as pretext for wiping out the Zhao clan.  A swifter, more awe-inspiring massacre you are not likely to see on film anytime soon.  However, he misses two of the Zhaos, the young General’s wife, Princess Zhuang and her newborn baby.  Sacrificing herself for her child, Zhuang entrusts the infant heir to her doctor, respected commoner Cheng Ying.

As fate would dictate, Cheng’s wife has also recently delivered.  Suddenly having a newborn is dangerous business and Cheng has two.  In a truly Biblical turn of events, Tu orders all the town’s babies to be collected at his palace to be duly vetted.  Through a catastrophically Shakespearean turn of events, the Zhao and Cheng babies essentially trade places. 

Growing up as Cheng Wu, the presumed son of Dr. Cheng, the Zhao orphan knows nothing of his birthright.  However, unbeknownst to the boy, the doctor is grooming him to take wreak his vengeance at the appropriate time.  To do this he plays a dangerous game, entering the service of the Tu retinue, manipulating his nemesis into serving as Cheng Wu’s godfather.  Needless to say, some rather messy issues of filial loyalty arise.

Some have often knocked Chen’s films as pretty but rather bloodless historical dramas, but this is absolutely not the case with Sacrifice.  While the period trappings are as richly detailed as ever, there is also plenty of blood.  In fact, the first act is quite a spectacle of mayhem, segueing into tense cat-and-mouse game, in which the fate of the city’s infants hang in the balance.  Yet, it ultimately settles into a stone cold revenge drama.

Featuring several of Chen’s semi-regulars, Sacrifice’s talented ensemble is equally adept at the stately tragedy and the gutty action sequences.  As Tu Angu, Wang Xueqi is in his element.  Ruthless yet charismatic, he is the sort of villain viewers find themselves identifying with, in spite of themselves.  While Ge You might be better known to American audiences for his shticky work in Let the Bullets Fly, he wrings real pathos from his performance as Dr. Cheng.  While her character is not long for the world, Fan Bingbing is a typically ethereal presence as Princess Zhuang.  Yet, it is Mainland TV star Hai Qing who really lowers the emotional boom as Cheng’s equally ill-fated wife.

Admirers of Chen’s Chinese Opera sagas Farewell My Concubine and Forever Enthralled should still appreciate the classical elegance of Sacrifice.  It is based on a play, after all.  Likewise, fans of more action-driven Asian cinema should never get bored with the relentless scheming and vigorous swordplay.   Indeed, Chen integrates the intimate and the epic halves quite masterfully.  Highly recommended for fans of literate historicals and the wuxia genre, Sacrifice opens this Friday (7/27) in New York at the Quad Cinema.