Each year in October, the London Film Festival takes place, and each year I endeavour to see as many movies as I can within – usually – a five day period. And with each passing year it proves more and more difficult to decide what to see. Quite simply, there’s too much choice, so much so that it’s impossible to see every movie that is shown. This year, however, and thanks to a new job, my visit to the Festival has been reduced to the final two days, the 14th and 15th. Here is my itinerary for the next two days:
Saturday 14 October:
The Florida Project (2017) – Sean Baker’s follow up to Tangerine (2015) about a family living in the shadow of Disney World and struggling to make ends meet.
The Prince of Adventurers (1927) – a French production charting the life of Casanova with the Italian lover played by Russian émigréIvan Mosjoukine.
The Cured (2017) – an Irish horror movie where a zombie outbreak has seen a cure found, but distrust of the once infected leads to social injustice and eventual martial interference.
Wrath of Silence (2017) – more international intrigue in this Chinese movie set in a small town where corruption is rife and a mute miner takes a violent stand against it.
Sunday 15 October:
You Were Never Really Here (2017) – Lynne Ramsay’s latest is a taut psychological thriller that promises a terrific performance from Joaquin Phoenix.
Thelma (2017) – a Norwegian thriller that’s also a mystery and a romantic drama, and the latest mainstream art movie from Joachim Trier.
The Endless (2017) – this is a dark, cult-like movie about a cult and two ex-members who begin to wonder/suspect that maybe there’s more to the cult’s beliefs than they ever considered.
The Summit (2017) – an Argentinian political thriller that places that country’s (fictional) President in a personal bind that could have far-reaching effects on his personal and professional lives.
Needless to say, I’m looking forward to seeing all of these movies – and reviewing them over the coming week. Being at the Festival and seeing a range of movies that are unlikely to be released in UK cinemas (and sometimes no matter how well received they are) is a massive bonus each year, and the BFI always manages to pull together an impressive programme of movies for everyone to enjoy. Away from the special gala showings and red carpet screenings, it’s often the less well known movies that have the most to offer, and not one of the movies that I’m planning to see lacks the ability to stand out from the crowd. I just can’t wait to get started!
Original title: Der müde Tod:ein deutsches volkslied in 6 versen
aka Behind the Wall
D: Fritz Lang / 94m
Cast: Lil Dagover, Walter Janssen, Bernhard Goetzke, Hans Sternberg, Karl Rückert, Max Adalbert, Wilhelm Diegelmann, Erich Pabst, Rudolf Klein-Rogge, Károly Huszár
Fritz Lang fled Germany in 1933 following a meeting with Josef Goebbels where Lang was offered a position as the head of the German movie studio, UFA. Up until that point he had made sixteen movies – seventeen if you include the French version of The Testament of Dr. Mabuse (1933) – and he was the most successful German director of the Twenties and early Thirties, both critically and commercially. He made movies that were beautiful examples of the Expressionist movement, and he introduced many future staples of sci-fi cinema such as the countdown to lift-off (Ten, nine, etc.) which was first seen in Woman in the Moon (1929). Destiny was the second movie he made with his wife, the actress Thea von Harbou, and their collaboration helped Lang display a better understanding of women than he’d shown previously, making this movie more relatable for female audiences as a result.
A young couple (Dagover, Janssen) arrive at a village where Death (Goetze) is in the process of erecting a great wall around the land he has purchased. While they spend time in the tavern, the girl is distracted and her lover disappears. Later, while she weeps by the wall, she sees a ghostly procession of souls pass through the wall, and the last of them is her lover. She exhorts Death to release him to her but instead he leads her into a dark room and shows her three candles, all lit, but each at a different stage of burning. Death tells her that each candle represents a life. If the girl can save just one of these lives then Death will restore her lover to life. The girl agrees to Death’s wager, and finds herself in a Middle Eastern city during Ramadan. Now a princess, Zobeide, she has to secure the life of her lover, the Frank (Janssen), but she fails in the attempt and he is killed.
Next, the girl finds herself in Venice as a noblewoman, Monna. She too has to protect the life of her lover, Gianfrancesco (Janssen), from the murderous intentions of her fiancé, Girolamo (Klein-Rogge). In this she fails again, and next the girl finds herself in China as a magician’s assistant, Tiao Tsien. The magician has another assistant, Liang (Janssen), who is Tiao Tsien’s lover. When the Emperor of China (Huszár) tries to seduce her she rejects him, and attempts to flee the palace with Liang. But Liang is killed and the girl has to face Death knowing that she has failed his challenge. But Death gives her one last chance: if she can persuade someone from the village to trade their life for hers, then the lovers will be reunited. Of course, she accepts, but will she be able to persuade anyone to make such a sacrifice?
For a movie that contains three sections that might be regarded as fantasies, Destiny’s framing storyline exists in a dream all by itself. Taking place “in some time and some place”, Lang invites us to follow his two young lovers as they arrive in a picturesque little village, unaware of the fate that awaits them. Even the appearance of the mysterious hitchhiker can’t dampen their enjoyment of life and love. But Lang has other plans for them, and soon happiness is replaced by grief and the lovers’ dream-like reality becomes a nightmare. Lang was always fascinated by the idea of Death as a spectral, other-worldly figure, and the character appears in a number of his movies, but this was the first time Lang brought him to the screen. Goetze’s gaunt features and fixed stare are a disturbing, unnerving sight, and the actor imbues the character with an impassive, worrying stillness, as if he’s always waiting for that next victim of “God’s will” – and it could be anyone. Lang makes Death an implacable, emotionless adversary for Lil Dagover’s heartsick protagonist, and the contrast between their acting styles adds a fine juxtaposition to their relationship in the movie.
The opening section, with its idyllic setting and array of “colourful” village stereotypes, seems very like Lang attempting to wrong foot the audience. But Death’s presence is an augur that all isn’t as it seems, and the wall he erects around the land he’s purchased gives rise to that. But the young lovers remain unaware of the darker forces around them, until it’s too late, and Dagover is pleading for mercy for the life of her paramour. Happiness, Lang seems to be saying, is fleeting and can’t be relied upon. But if you want it badly enough, you’ll do whatever you can to keep hold of it. And so, Dagover’s chastened young woman must endure a series of travails that the audience can see will be doomed to failure, but which she must put her heart and soul into. There’s a phrase, Love Conquers All, but for most of the movie, Lang seems to be saying, Don’t you believe it. It’s this overtly pessimistic point of view that drives the movie forward, as each new scenario sees love thwarted at every turn, and Dagover’s determined character suffers more and more.
The three scenarios that the young woman becomes involved in all have an element of the fantastical about them, and depict a romantic idealism that reflects the feelings of the young lovers. Unavoidable fate and tragedy are the outcome of each tale, and Lang is resolute in denying the young woman any joy during these episodes. But the art direction – by Robert Herlth, Walter Röhrig, and Hermann Warm – along with Heinrich Umlauff’s striking costume designs – is a joy. Silent movies in 1921 were rarely charged with such expressive and impressive imagery, and it’s equally rare for a silent movie of the period to overcome the impression of appearing fake or overly theatrical (though Dagover does do histrionic with gleeful abandon from time to time). Lang was a master when it came to the visual styling of his movies, and Destiny doesn’t disappoint in this area. Allied to a script that deftly explores notions of love as an immutable force, and the will to endure for love, it features good performances from its cast, and strong, passionate direction from Lang.
Rating: 8/10 – a tight, purposeful script allows Lang to expand and build on the promise of his career up until that point, and he shows that there are no lessons wasted or ignored in his tale of love under threat; emotionally redolent and deceptively poignant in places, Destiny is a terrific example of a director finding his “groove” and having found it, never looking back. (10/31)
Cast: Matt Damon, Pedro Pascal, Tian Jing, Willem Dafoe, Andy Lau, Hanyu Zhang, Lu Han, Kenny Lin, Eddie Peng, Xuan Huang, Ryan Zheng, Karry Wang, Cheney Chen, Pilou Asbæk
On paper it must have sounded like a great idea. A US/China co-production directed by Yimou Zhang and starring Matt Damon, and telling one of the legends behind the creation of the Great Wall of China: that it was built to stop a species of monster called the Tao Tei from over-running the country. On paper it promised Zhang’s visionary skill as a director, Damon’s solid acting presence, and some of the most exciting battle scenes this side of The Lord of the Rings trilogy. It would also be the most expensive movie in Chinese history, costing $135 million.
But somewhere along the way, what everyone – the production companies and the producers, Zhang and Damon, anyone else involved – forgot was that the movie was going to need a decent script. Or maybe they were aware it needed a decent script but decided to make do with the one they had (or maybe working with more than one hundred on-set translators didn’t help). However it was, The Great Wall reaches us with its goal to entertain its audience undermined almost from the word go. And it never recovers, offering lazy characterisations, even lazier motivations for its characters, plotting that goes beyond ridiculous, and the kind of moments that are meant to be, well, meaningful but just look and sound awkward. It’s only the well-mounted action sequences that provide any fun, but by the end, any credibility they’ve given the movie has run dry as well. So step forward Max Brooks, Edward Zwick and Marshall Herskovitz who came up with the story, and Carlo Bernard, Doug Miro and Tony Gilroy who actually wrote the script. Give them all a hearty round of applause – and let that be the only acknowledgment they get for coming up with this farrago.
Now obviously, The Great Wall is a fantasy movie, and none of it ever happened for real, but that doesn’t mean that it can’t be grounded as far as possible within its own fantastical world. Matt Damon and Pedro Pascal as mercenaries trying to steal black powder (gunpowder) from the Chinese? Okay, that one’s possible. The Great Wall built to stop a horde of monsters from over-running the country (and by extension, the world)? Ahh, hang on a minute. No, that’s not going to work. There are problems with that idea straight away, and these are problems the movie ignores, as if by ignoring them no one will stop and say, ahhh, hang on a minute… The problem lies with those pesky, awkward timescales, the ones the movie itself comes up with. Seventeen hundred years to build. Okay, but the Tao Tei attack every sixty years, and again according to the movie, have been doing so for two thousand years. So the obvious question is: how is it that the Tao Tei haven’t over-run the country already? There’s thousands upon thousands of the ugly creatures (which must mean their Queen is kept very busy).
To be fair, the movie does try to provide an answer to this conundrum, by mentioning that the Tao Tei are evolving with each sixty year cycle, and becoming more and more intelligent. But then it shoots itself in the foot – again – by giving Damon’s character, William, a large chunk of magnetised rock (don’t ask; really, don’t). Magnets apparently have the ability to literally put the creatures to sleep, something the Chinese are aware of but which they’ve never put to the test. Cue a mission to capture one of the creatures. Once secured, the creature is then whisked off to the capital city of Bianliang where the magnet is removed far enough for the creature to wake up and transmit its location telepathically to its Queen (oh, yes, they’re telepathic as well). And just at the same moment, the Chinese, led by Commander Lin (Jing) and Strategist Wang (Lau) discover that the Tao Tei have been digging a massive tunnel through the Wall and are heading for Bianliang (and no one has noticed this, or spotted them heading for the capital; no, really, no one).
If after all this, you’re not convinced that The Great Wall has a really duff script then you’ll really have to see it for yourself. What was probably meant to be an effective melding of Western and Eastern movie making, or at the very least a Chinese tale adapted for a wider international audience, in the end becomes a collection of cinematic clichés, desultory character beats, and an ending that’s so rushed you get the feeling that maybe you’ve missed something (one minute the tunnel is discovered, the next, everyone’s climbing onto unstable hot-air balloons to reach Bianliang before the Tao Tei get there). It’s a movie that doesn’t seem to trust itself with any depth or nuance, as if audiences wouldn’t appreciate their inclusion. In its aim to be as entertaining as possible, it appears to have shed anything that might be thought-provoking, original, or ambitious.
During the movie’s production there was a lot of criticism surrounding Damon’s casting (as if no one realised this was an international co-production). Accusations of the movie using a white saviour narrative prevailed for a long while, and on watching the movie, it’s not hard to see why such accusations were made. Whether they’re well-founded or not will be down to the individual viewer, but as the Chinese have been fending off the Tao Tei for centuries, and only defeat them once Damon’s character turns up – well, you do the math. There’s also the inevitable attraction between Damon’s early medieval archer and Jing’s initially wary (but intrigued) commander. Their relationship remains entirely platonic throughout, with admiring glances appearing here and there, but the idea of an actual romance is firmly kept in its place. This may be an international co-production made for modern audiences, but let’s not get several centuries ahead of ourselves.
In the end, this is an American production that takes an ostensibly Chinese story (it was actually dreamed up by Legendary Entertainment CEO Thomas Tull and World War Z author Max Brooks), makes it on Chinese soil with a largely Chinese cast and crew, appropriates a Chinese national monument, and then jettisons anything that makes it truly, identifiably Chinese. (There’s also a corollary with World War Z as the Tao Tei climb up and over each other in their efforts to scale the Wall.) Should the Chinese feel insulted by this? That’s a difficult one to answer, their having been involved in this almost from the beginning, but if the white saviour narrative does apply then this is arguably one of the most racially condescending movies made in a very long while.
But inevitably, with all the talent involved, there are some things that the movie gets right, it’s just that there aren’t enough of them to make up for when it goes wrong. The movie is often beautiful to look at, with a dazzling array of colours for the Chinese to wear and be seen against, and the overall production design by John Myhre is equally dazzling. The Wall’s defences are impressive too, with one unexpected, built-in feature proving particularly effective against the Tao Tei (though frustratingly it’s only used once). And one character’s death prompts a beautiful display of sky lanterns against the backdrop of the night sky. But as already mentioned, these aspects don’t make up for the clumsy, substance-free elements that are thrust centre-stage, from those awkward timescales, some truly awful dialogue, a subplot involving Dafoe’s captive mercenary and his plan to steal the black powder, and the inclusion of a young soldier who proves his bravery when everyone (except William) doubts him.
Rating: 4/10 – as dumb as dumb can be, The Great Wall is a terrible mis-step by Zhang, and by everyone else involved; big on spectacle but short on invention and lacking any internal logic, it’s a movie built out of nothing and unsurprisingly, is well on course to lose a lot of money for the studios who made it.
Cast: Amy Adams, Jeremy Renner, Forest Whitaker, Michael Stuhlbarg, Mark O’Brien, Tzi Ma
Louise Banks (Adams) is a linguistics professor whose private life has recently been shattered by the break up of her marriage and the death of her daughter from cancer. Getting by but still grieving, Louise is as unprepared as the rest of the world when twelve huge spaceships suddenly appear one day in different locations around the globe. Soon, though, she is approached by the US military – in the form of Colonel G.T. Weber (Whitaker) – to aid in communicating with the aliens on board the ship that hovers over American soil in Montana. The best in her field in terms of linguistics and translations, Louise joins Weber’s team along with mathematician and scientist Ian Donnelly (Renner).
In Montana, Louise and Ian are advised that the most important question is, What do they want? Later, they ascend into the ship – called a “shell” by the military – and have their first encounter with the aliens. A symbol is written on the screen that separates the aliens in their atmosphere from Louise and Ian et al in theirs. Using it as the basis of the aliens’ language, Louise soon deduces that the symbol doesn’t just translate into one word, but into many. From then on she is able to determine much more of how the aliens communicate. Meanwhile, at the other arrival sites, particularly in China, suspicion and distrust of the aliens’ intensions are leading to veiled threats of attack on the shells, while violent unrest occurs around the globe.
Louise begins to have visions of a little girl, who in various ways helps her to understand more of what the aliens are communicating. When she translates a symbol and the meaning is “Offer weapon”, it causes the CIA agent in charge of the whole operation in Montana, Halpern (Stuhlbarg), to order an evacuation. But Louise insists they should stay, to keep faith with the aliens, and to complete the mission to find out why they are here. She returns to the shell by herself, and by coming into direct contact with the aliens, Louise learns why they have arrived, and why she’s having visions of the little girl, a revelation that has a profound effect not just on her, but on her understanding of her marriage and also, her daughter’s death.
There’s a dearth of good, old-fashioned, serious sci-fi in the movies right now – in fact, it’s been that way for some time – but Arrival is here to redress the balance. Playing with notions of time and memory and the nature of happiness, the movie is a thought-provoking treatise on what it is to mourn a life while discovering at the same time that that life has much more to offer even though the person has passed away. It’s a bit of a mindbender at times, but Villeneuve confidently handles the narrative twists and turns of Eric Heisserer’s script – itself an adaptation of the short story Story of Your Life by Ted Chiang and heavily reworked by Villeneuve himself – so that the viewer can still grasp the subtleties of what’s happening and why.
Along the way, said viewer is treated to an intelligent story and plot that packs an unexpectedly emotional wallop towards the end, as the various strands of Louise’s life are brought into sharp relief, and the aliens’ reason for visiting Earth is revealed. Louise herself is brought to life by Adams in a performance that acts as a reminder that, away from the DC Extended Universe, she is still one of today’s finest actresses. As the emotionally distant Louise, Adams shows just how removed she is from everything going on around her – at first. But as Louise slowly begins to unravel the complex patterns of the aliens’ language, she begins to reconnect with herself and everyone around her; and particularly Ian. Adams is the movie’s chief ingredient for success, her succinct, subtle portrayal of Louise proving layered and intuitive, and deeply moving come the movie’s end.
But while Adams’ performance is the bedrock upon which the movie supports itself, there’s so much more to recommend it. Though she plays the central character, and the rest of the cast have essentially supporting roles, the likes of Renner and Whitaker still manage to contribute well-rounded and credible characters that are necessary to the plot, while even Stuhlbarg’s paranoid (and potentially one-note) CIA agent fits in to the overall set up without feeling extraneous or unnecessarily villainous. Villeneuve also allows each character to display their own fears and concerns, and a corresponding sense of wonder, at being in such close proximity to the aliens and their craft.
Visually, the movie is a gloomy-looking, though consistently well-thought out viewing experience, with Villeneuve choosing to dial down on any bright colours and in doing so, adding texture to the narrative. The aliens operate in a cloudy grey environment and “write” using appendages that produce a black inky substance that is surprisingly vibrant, while at the military base, the various comms rooms and private quarters also lack for vivid colours, with only computer screens providing any brightness to offset the gloom. Villeneuve is making a conscious choice here: the bleak, low-lit hive of activity reflecting the interior of the aliens’ ship, as if to insinuate that there is a greater level of connection between “us” and “them” than is immediately apparent.
The visuals are more than ably supported by a distinctive sound design that unnerves far more than it reassures, and which also includes a suitably eerie and mournful score by Jóhann Jóhannsson, Villeneuve’s go-to composer. Keeping the viewer on edge as Louise deconstructs the alien message, the visuals and the sound design combine to create a haunting, other-worldly feel that is not only entirely appropriate given the nature of the story, but also serves to highlight the idea that if we aren’t alone in the universe, then ideas of melody and tone may still hold but are likely to be interpreted in completely different ways.
Ultimately though, it’s Villeneuve’s confident handling of the material that impresses the most. He’s not afraid to take his time in telling the story, and doesn’t drip-feed all the relevant information at regular points in the narrative. Instead he lets the story unfold at its own pace, revealing key plot points quietly and without the usual fanfare required in other sci-fi movies, and the result is a measured, affecting tale that contains a major twist, one that perhaps for the first time, is allowed to play out over much of the movie’s running time, rather than just suddenly and without warning, and which in its simplicity and emotional effectiveness, elevates Arrival over and above any other sci-fi movie you’re likely to see this year (and probably for some time to come).
Rating: 9/10 – a beautifully constructed movie with a clever, intelligent script, superb cinematography from Bradford Young, an intense soundtrack, heartfelt performances and all held together by a director at the top of his game, Arrival is a must-see movie that is less about why the aliens are here, and more about why we are here; quite simply, one of this year’s best movies.
Cast: Jackie Chan, Johnny Knoxville, Bingbing Fan, Eric Tsang, Eve Torres, Winston Chao, Youn Junghoon, Shi Shi, Michael Wong, Kuo Pin Chao
Here’s a question for you: when did you last enjoy – really enjoy – a Jackie Chan movie? Was it Dragon Blade (2015)? Or Chinese Zodiac (2012) perhaps. Or was it even further back? The Karate Kid (2010) maybe. If it’s been even further back, don’t worry, it’s likely you’re not on your own.
Back in 2012, Chan told reporters at the Cannes Film Festival that Chinese Zodiac was going to be his last action movie. He was getting too old, and he felt the world was “too violent”. And for a whole year it seemed that Chan was sticking to his word… and then he went and made Police Story: Lockdown (2013). So much for that, then. And now he’s back again with another action movie, Skiptrace, and this time, it’s… practically dead on arrival.
Let’s try another question: when did you last enjoy – really enjoy – a Renny Harlin movie? Was it The Legend of Hercules (2014) Or Devil’s Pass (2013)? Or something from the time when his name on a picture was reason enough to see it, say back in the Nineties. Unlike Chan, Harlin has never announced his “retirement” from action movies, and now he’s back with Skiptrace, and this time… well, you get the picture.
There are many, many, many movies that are made because somebody somewhere thought they would be a good idea. Movies like Skiptrace, which are made both for a domestic market (in this case, China and Hong Kong) and a wider, international market, show up each and every year. Some succeed in gaining that wider, international success the makers hope for – the Internal Affairs trilogy, for example – while the majority barely make an impact. In between are movies such as Skiptrace, with its bankable, internationally famous star; less bankable but still well-known co-star; even less bankable but still fairly well-known director-for-hire; country-hopping locations; uninspired action set-pieces; and a patience-testing script that has no intention of making any kind of sense at any point in the movie.
The plot, such as it is, has Chan’s dogged cop, Bennie Chan, still trying to avenge the death of his partner (Tsang) at the hands of criminal mastermind the Matador. Nine years have passed since that terrible event, and Bennie has spent the years since in trying to prove that high-profile businessman and philanthropist Victor Wong (Chao) is the Matador. Of course he’s been unsuccessful, and his latest attempt leads to the kind of property destruction that warrants his being told to take a month’s leave of absence. In the meantime, his deceased partner’s daughter, Samantha (Fan), has infiltrated Wong’s organisation in an attempt to find some evidence against him… but she’s drawn a blank too. It’s not until con man and gambler Connor Watts (Knoxville) turns up at a casino run by Wong and witnesses a murder that Bennie has a solid chance of bringing Wong to justice.
So far, so straightforward. But the script, already over-complicating things by having Bennie as Samantha’s guardian, introduces us to Connor by putting him in jeopardy in Russia thanks to an ill-advised relationship with a mobster’s daughter. A series of non-linear flashbacks to the previous twenty-four hours reveals Connor’s actions at the casino (including winning a large amount of money), his meeting Samantha, trying to avoid the Russian mobster’s goons (out to bring him back to Russia so he can be put in jeopardy), witnessing a murder in the process, and coming into possession of a mobile phone that will reveal the identity of the Matador. Too much already? Don’t worry, there’s more – much more.
What follows is a tortuous road movie that sees Bennie and Connor eventually learn to respect and admire each other, and which takes in such locations/developments as the Russian bowling alley where Connor finds himself in peril, a train that both men jump from as soon as they hear the ticket inspector approaching, buying the slowest vehicle in Mongolia without ensuring it has enough petrol to get them anywhere, an encounter with a group of Mongolian tribespeople (more of which later), a game of bluff and double bluff at the Chinese border that sees them arrested, their opportune “rescue” by the Russian mobster’s goons, a whitewater raft ride, and eventually, a zipline escape from Wong’s men.
There’s more still, but it’s all too tiring, a series of desperate attempts by the screenplay – step forward writers Jay Longino and BenDavid Grabinski, whose first collaboration this is – to keep viewers from nodding off or asking themselves why they’re still watching after the first half an hour. If the events listed in the previous paragraph sound exciting, don’t be fooled: even handled by Harlin, not exactly a slouch when it comes to action movies, those sequences lack energy and are shot through with the kind of slapstick humour that Chan’s movies are famous for. And it needs to be said: Chan is getting on. His decision to “retire” back in 2012 should have been followed through, because in Skiptrace you can see just how slow he’s become. The speed and intricacy of his past fight scenes are absent here, with blows and parries signposted well in advance and Chan being given more than enough time to get into position for each.
And then there’s the encounter with the Mongolian tribespeople. It’s a standard sequence to begin with, a misunderstanding leading to Connor and then Bennie squaring up against the tribe’s best fighters. The misunderstanding is resolved and the tribespeople take to the pair as if they were long-lost relatives. A feast ensues, and after a few too many drinks, Bennie begins to sing a song. A young woman joins him, and soon everyone is singing along as well, word perfect and in perfect harmony. The song is Adele’s Rolling in the Deep, and it’s possibly the most bizarre moment you’ll ever see, and hear, in a Jackie Chan movie. It’s also the best example of how haphazardly the script has been assembled, with sequences obviously arrived at and decided on before a plot was actually dreamt up.
Like so many of these productions, the editing is the worst aspect of all, leaving the movie looking like a cinematic patchwork, with shots truncated and poorly framed, and the performances (such as they are) suffering as a consequence. Chan is his usual amiable self, unstretched by the material, while Knoxville’s comic relief portrayal of Connor serves as a reminder that when a script is this bad the actor doesn’t have a way of countering it. Elsewhere, the supporting cast do what they can with their underwritten roles, with only ex-WWE wrestler Torres standing out thanks to her impressive physicality. Harlin is a bland presence in the director’s chair, his regular visual flair absent from the mix. It’s hard to believe that this is the same man who directed Die Hard 2 (1990) and The Long Kiss Goodnight (1996). But then, it’s hard to think of anyone who could have made something even halfway decent from the material on offer.
Rating: 3/10 – not the finest moment in Chan’s career, Skiptrace is hard to sit through and barely acceptable as entertainment; with all the vitality of a contractual obligation, the movie crams in a surfeit of incidents that, ordinarily, would keep at least another two movies happy – but ultimately, it doesn’t have any idea of what to do with them.
Fans of Matt Damon will be intrigued, or just plain excited, by his presence in Yimou Zhang’s latest epic, The Great Wall, due later this year. It’s a fantasy/action period piece that asks the question, why was the great wall built? Was it to keep people out, or was it to keep out – speak of it only in hushed tones – something far worse? If you’ve seen the trailer by now then you’ll already know the answer (and let’s just say it’s not Po the Kung Fu Panda). But if you haven’t, and you’re wondering what on earth Matt Damon is doing appearing in an historical drama set in China, then… join the rest of us.
Perhaps it was being able to work with Yimou, still one of China’s most distinctive and exhilarating movie directors, even if it’s been ten years since he made Curse of the Golden Flower (2006), perhaps his last movie to gain both critical and commercial plaudits worldwide. Or maybe it’s the chance to spend time in China itself, a kind of busman’s holiday. Either way, Damon is there taking part and kicking – whoa there! Nearly gave it away (let the trailer do that).
But it’s not the first time an A-list Hollywood star has appeared in a movie set in historical China. Tom Cruise was once The Last Samurai (2003), while more recently we’ve seen the likes of Adrien Brody and Nicolas Cage donning historical armour and pitching up in Chinese movies – Brody opposite Jackie Chan in Dragon Blade (2015), and Cage taking Hayden Christensen under his wing in Outcast (2014). In all three of these movies, the presence of such stars has no doubt been encouraged to help boost international sales (and The Last Samurai was hugely successful, raking in over $450 million), but the so-called Marco Polo effect really only works when the Occidental character is, well, Marco Polo. So, with that all in mind, this week’s question is (obviously):
In this day and age, is the presence of a globally well-known star still the (potential) guarantee of box office success that Oriental movie makers seem to think it is, or are they being hired purely because they’re the best actor for the role?
Cast: Jing Wu, Nan Yu, Scott Adkins, Dahong Ni, Xiao Zhou, Qiang Ma, Zhaoqi Shi, Zibin Fang, Sen Wang, Tengyuan Liu, Yongda Zhang, Xiaolong Zhuang, Yi Zhao, Zi Liang
Action movies, when executed properly, can provide some of the most exhilarating movie moments it’s possible to experience. From John McClane’s exhortation to “take this under advisement, jerkweed” before dumping a chair load of C4 down a lift shaft in Die Hard (1988), to the spectacular destruction of the White House in Independence Day (1996), and the lobby shootout in The Matrix (1999), the movies have given us the kind of goosebump-inducing, jaw-dropping moments that make us want to go back to them time and again, so impressive are they.
But the flipside of this is the number of action movies that fail to deliver even the barest hint of one of these moments. There’s more of them, of course, and they often fall back on tried and trusted elements: running gunfire that never hits anyone, pyrotechnics rather than proper explosions, poorly orchestrated hand-to-hand combat (the kind of heavily edited sequences that end up looking as if they’ve had frames cut here and there), a scenario that sees one lone hero fend off an army of soldiers/mercenaries/thugs, a sneering villain who meets a nasty end (if the script is clever enough), a romantic interest who may or may not be abducted by the sneering villain, and/or a daring rescue mission that means certain death if anyone attempts it – usually against a heavily fortified hideout. (There are plenty of other, similar elements, but you get the general idea.)
It’s easy to take some comfort from all this familiarity; after all, action movies are often the cinematic equivalent of socially sanctioned vigilantism, even if there’s a police officer involved (a la Dirty Harry Callahan). After policemen, action movies like to employ members of the military as their protagonists, ex-soldiers home on leave in their troubled hometown, or maverick individuals who have trouble following orders. Again, it’s comforting; these characters know how to handle themselves, they know how to comfortably beat up a minor bad guy (and several of his buddies), and their grit and detemination will allow them to overcome all kinds of injuries and take down the sneering villain.
All of which makes watching Wolf Warrior such a pleasant, though unremarkable experience. Many of the basic action movie tropes are here, from Jing Wu’s stoic yet romantically cocky sniper Leng Feng, to the top brass (Yu, Zhou) forced to watch events unfold from a command room, and the leader of a group of mercenaries (Adkins) whose resourcefulness proves no match for the hero (and who is reduced to, yes, sneering). Leng also overcomes several injuries sustained throughout the movie, including a gunshot wound to the left shoulder that he promptly ignores. It’s all entirely predictable stuff, competently shot and edited, but offering little in the way of reward for the viewer.
It’s comforting, though, because this is a Chinese action movie, but it has the look and feel of an American low budget action movie but with a few extra dollars spent on it. Its basic plot – sniper kills drug dealer, drug dealer’s brother hires mercenaries to kill sniper – is very basic indeed, but the screenplay (by Wu and three others) wanders away from it so often and so consistently, the average viewer could be forgiven for thinking the basic plot, if the makers had stuck to it exclusively, would have led to the movie lasting maybe fifty minutes tops. And there are several narrative decisions and developments that imply the script was made up as the production progressed, from the inclusion of a scene where Leng and his fellow wolf warriors (they’re an elite Chinese army outfit) fend off a pack of badly CGI-rendered wolves, to the idea that trying to kill Feng would best be achieved while he’s on manoeuvres and surrounded by dozens of fellow soldiers (the mercenaries are only five in number).
The mix of action movie tropes and Chinese movie making sensibilities leads to Wolf Warrior having its fair share of comedy moments too. Wu can’t resist making Leng the kind of chirpy, up for a laugh character who would usually end up as cannon fodder at some point in other action movies, and while he can be serious when required, it’s a strange sight to see him holding back on grinning when Leng steps on a mine. He also spends as much time as possible flirting with his superior (Nan Yu), which of course is reciprocated so that they can ride off together at the end (there’s no sunset, but it’s implied). And Leng’s maverick anti-authority tendencies, the subject of an enquiry at the beginning, are soon applauded once the mercenaries are defeated and the drug dealer’s brother is apprehended at the border.
In the director’s chair, Wu proves to be an erratic presence, strangely confident when focusing on scenes that don’t involve any action, and unable to muster any tension or excitement in the scenes that do. Fans of both Wu and Adkins will be waiting for their final showdown with a fair degree of anticipation, but that anticipation is soon dispatched by the fight’s pedestrian moves and awkward wire work (it’s over too quickly as well). Adkins, whose presence in low budget action movies is often the best thing about them, is saddled with some dreadful dialogue, but he still manages to inject his character with enough venom to make his appearance fairly memorable, while Wu and his fellow cast members play up their stereotypical roles in such a way that the words ‘by rote’ spring to mind.
All this makes it sound as if Wolf Warrior is one to avoid, but while it’s certainly not a good movie, it does have a certain charm that redeems it somewhat. The Chinese setting is different, even if the overall mise-en-scene is overly familiar, and there are times when the absurdity of it all is more than capable of bringing a smile to the viewer’s face. Aside from several patriotic nods to the sanctity of the Republic of China, the movie doesn’t take itself too seriously and its running time keeps things lean and (occasionally) mean. Fans of Asian cinema might want to check it out, but if they do, they’d do well to keep their expectations in check.
Rating: 5/10 – the usual vagaries of Chinese movie making – story developments that don’t make complete sense, less than consistent characterisations, narrative inconsistencies, haphazard editing – are all present and correct in Wolf Warrior, but can’t completely derail what is basically an inoffensive, painless viewing experience; the kind of movie that’s perfectly suited to an evening’s viewing with pizza and beers, it’s an action thriller that doesn’t try too hard and should be approached accordingly.
Cast: Deng Chao, Lin Yun, Zhang Yuqi, Show Luo, Hark Tsui, Kris Wu, Zhang Wen
Already the highest grossing Chinese movie ever at the international box office – over half a billion dollars and counting – Stephen Chow’s Mermaid is a sweet-natured fantasy, with strong romantic overtones, and enough comic moments to make it one of the funniest movies of the year. It’s a movie that deserves its success, and despite a limited release in the US and most other territories back in February, should be seen by as many people as possible.
It’s a movie with an environmental message as well. Beginning with scenes that could put off some viewers, especially those who love animals, Chow’s latest sees playboy industrialist and developer Liu Xuan (Deng) acquire a wildlife reserve called Green Gulf with a view to using the area as a sea reclamation project. In partnership with Ruolan (Zhang Yuqi), Liu Xuan plans to use sonar devices to scare off the marine wildlife and use the project to make even more obscene amounts of money than he’s already got. What he doesn’t realise is that his plan will affect not only the local marine wildlife, but has already affected a group of mermaids (and an octopus) that live in the bowels of a shipwrecked tanker in the gulf. Aware of his plan, the merpeople have decided to send an emissary to get to know him and then kill him.
Their emissary is Sham (Lin), a young mermaid who has discovered a love of chicken, and music and dancing in her brief time out of water. She manages to meet Liu Xuan but he doesn’t pay her much attention, and it’s not until some time later that he calls her wanting to meet up. When he does and Sham finally gets to be alone with him, she finds herself beginning to like Liu Xuan, so much so that she’s unable to go through with the plan to kill him. The next day, Liu Xuan takes her out and asks her to marry him; he’s fallen in love with Sham’s appealing nature, and the fact that she’s not interested in his wealth. But when Sham says no, Liu Xuan goes to her home to get her to change her mind and finds himself captured by the merpeople, who tell him about the real effects that his sonar devices are having. Just as Octopus (Luo) is about to kill Liu Xuan, Sham helps him escape.
Coming to terms with the fact that the love of his life is half-human, half-fish, and that his sonar devices will cause her and the rest of the merpeople harm, Liu Xuan has the devices turned off. He tells Ruolan the reason why, and is shocked to learn that she has known about their existence all along – and wants to hunt them down. Outmanoeuvred by his business partner, Liu Xuan has no choice but to try and reach Sham and the merpeople, and warn them before it’s too late…
One thing to know in advance about Mermaid is that it’s a fairy tale, a fabulous concoction that features all the basic elements of a fairy tale, and which has the traditional fairy tale ending where good (in this case a reformed Liu Xuan) triumphs over evil (his money and power-obsessed partner, Ruolan). It’s a feelgood movie, entertaining and satisfying for the way in which it blends its environmental message into a narrative that is both fantastical and determinedly romantic, while also providing some huge laughs. Chow, whose previous credits include Shaolin Soccer (2001) and Kung Fu Hustle (2004), has fashioned the kind of family-friendly movie that can be enjoyed by all ages and he’s done so using a great deal of infectious charm.
It’s also unapologetically a Chinese movie, which means that some of the humour may seem a little juvenile, or off, at times – one scene, where Octopus has to submit to having his tenatacles turned into sushi is likely to have Western audiences questioning whether or not such submissive mutilation is truly a source for laughter – but if you go with it there’s lots to enjoy, a goofy, carefree sense of mischief that’s hard to ignore. The movie’s funniest scene comes after Liu Xuan escapes from the tanker and tries to report what’s happened to the local police. Mermaid is worth seeing purely for the various mermaid drawings one of the officers comes up with.
Set against this is the kind of heightened, bordering on ridiculously saccharine romance that only the Chinese can do so well, with Liu Xuan’s and Sham’s relationship encountering the type of unforeseen obstacles that would cause most couples to call it a day, but which here serve only to strengthen their feelings for each other. From the scene where they serenade each other with Liu Xuan’s favourite song, to the moment where Sham saves his life, their relationship is peppered with the type of challenges that only true love was designed to overcome. Both Deng and Lin have enormous fun with their roles, and this translates to the screen, making their scenes together a joy to watch (and even more so when you consider that Lin, who’d never acted before, won her role through taking part in a talent contest-cum-audition).
There are faults, however. Chow changes the tone too many times to make the movie feel like a cohesive whole, and viewers may find themselves confused by some of Chow’s decisions both as co-screenwriter (with seven others!) and director. And while the visual effects are by and large very successful indeed, some of them are decidedly second-rate as well, and often in a scene where they’ve already been hugely impressive. But these aren’t enough to detract from the overall enjoyment the movie provides, and the often childlike sense of wonder it manages to instill.
Rating: 8/10 – a wonderful surprise for anyone who takes the time to watch it, Mermaid has heart and soul and charm by the bucket load; with terrific performances from its two leads, and a knowing sense of its own absurdity, it’s a movie that rewards the viewer over and over again without even trying too hard.
Cast: Jack Black, Bryan Cranston, Dustin Hoffman, Angelina Jolie, J.K. Simmons, Seth Rogen, James Hong, Lucy Liu, David Cross, Jackie Chan, Kate Hudson, Randall Duk Kim
In the Spirit World, Master Oogway (Kim) has his chi stolen from him by the villainous Kai (Simmons). With Oogway’s chi and those of the other denizens of the Spirit World, Kai can regain his human form and seek out the only warrior who can defeat him, the Dragon Warrior, aka Po the panda (Black). Meanwhile, Po has his own problems. Master Shifu (Hoffman) has given him the role of teaching the Famous Five, and subsequently he meets his real father, Li (Cranston). When Kai sends his emissaries to challenge Po, the Famous Five intervene but aren’t strong enough to defeat them; one by one they have their chi’s taken from them. Only Po has the strength and skill to best Kai, but first he must travel with his father to the village of his birth, and take instruction in how to become a Chi master; only then will he be able to defeat Kai and banish him back to the Spirit World.
Sequels with 3 in the title are often tired, limited affairs that trade on former glories while lacking the energy and freshness of their predecessors. However, Kung Fu Panda 3 bucks the trend and delivers a movie that is as energetic as 1 and 2, and proves to be just as entertaining. The kung fu moves are as impressive as ever, and the animated stylings that go with them are particularly exciting, especially in the Spirit World, where physics is a concept that’s easily ignored. In the real world, Po’s dilemma at discovering his real father after being raised so faithfully by Mr Ling (Hong) is played out amidst a strong mix of comedy and pathos, and the depiction of the panda village is bursting with wonderful characters and visual humour.
Kai is a villain in the mold of the first movie’s Tai Lung, and as a result is the movie’s weakest link, but Simmons is obviously having fun with the role (as is everyone else), and in comparison with the rest of the story, the character’s familiarity is not a major flaw. The burgeoning relationship between Po and Li is a definite bonus and has been handled well by scriptwriters Jonathan Aibel and Glenn Berger, their inclusion of Mr Ling doing justice to the relationship established in parts one and two. The visuals are as stunning as ever, and the colours have a photo-realistic sheen to them that haven’t been seen in previous outings, making it all the more superb than before.
Rating: 8/10 – a treat for the eyes (and as rewarding for the mind), Kung Fu Panda 3 is something of a retread of the first movie but in this case, it’s not a bad thing; with a superb voice cast and stunning animation throughout, this sequel proves that putting a lot of heart and soul into a movie pays off every time.
Richard Pryor: Omit the Logic (2013) / D: Marina Zenovich / 83m
With: Richard Pryor, Jennifer Lee, Rashon Khan, Thom Mount, Whoopi Goldberg, Bob Newhart, Patricia von Heitman, David Banks, Skip Brittenham, Paul Schrader, Stan Shaw, Robin Williams, David Steinberg, Rocco Urbisci, Lily Tomlin
Rating: 6/10 – a look back over the life and career of Richard Pryor featuring comments from the people who lived and worked with him; if you’re familiar with Pryor and his work then Richard Pryor: Omit the Logic won’t provide you with anything new, but its concise, straightforward approach is effective enough, even if there’s an accompanying lack of depth to the way the material has been assembled.
Floodtide (1949) / D: Frederick Wilson / 90m
Cast: Gordon Jackson, Rona Anderson, John Laurie, Jack Lambert, James Logan, Janet Brown, Elizabeth Sellars, Gordon McLeod, Ian McLean, Archie Duncan
Rating: 7/10 – an eager to succeed shipyard worker (Jackson) earns both the respect of the shipyard owner (Lambert) and the love of his daughter (Anderson, who Jackson married in real life), as he climbs the ladder from metal worker to ship designer; the kind of cottage industry movie that Britain made in abundance in the late Forties/early Fifties, Floodtide has a great deal of charm, and an easygoing approach to its slightly fairytale narrative.
Giuseppina (1960) / D: James Hill / 32m
Cast: Antonia Scalari, Giulio Marchetti
Rating: 9/10 – on a slow, sunny day at an Italian roadside garage, young Giuseppina (Scalari) finds that life isn’t quite as boring as she thinks; an Oscar-winning short, Giuseppina is a total delight, with minimal dialogue, some beautifully observed caricatures for customers, and a simple, unaffected approach that pays enormous dividends, and makes for an entirely rewarding experience.
The Painted Veil (2006) / D: John Curran / 125m
Cast: Naomi Watts, Edward Norton, Liev Schreiber, Toby Jones, Diana Rigg, Anthony Chau-Sang Wong
Rating: 7/10 – bacteriologist Walter Fane (Norton) takes his wife Kitty (Watts) to China as punishment for an affair, but in combatting an outbreak of cholera, discovers that she has qualities he has overlooked; previously made in 1934 with Greta Garbo, The Painted Veil (adapted from the novel by W. Somerset Maugham) is a moderately absorbing, moderately effective romantic drama that never quite takes off, but does feature some beautiful location photography courtesy of Stuart Dryburgh.
Original title: Báifà mónǚ zhuàn zhī míngyuè tiānguó
D: Jacob Cheung Chi-Leung / 104m
Cast: Fan Bingbing, Huang Xiaoming, Vincent Zhao, Wang Xuebing, Ni Dahong, Tong Yao, Shera Lee, Cecilia Yip, Yan Yikuan
China, 1620. The Ming dynasty is drawing to a close and corruption is rife in the Imperial Palace. Zhuo Yihang (Xiaoming) is appointed leader of the Wudang clan and travels to the Imperial Palace to pay tribute to the Emperor and present him with two red pills as a sign of his fealty. On his way, he discovers a cave where he encounters a mysterious young woman without a name (Bingbing). He tells her that when next they meet he will have a name for her. At the same time, the Chuan-Shan army, led by General Jin (Zhao) are busy suppressing the peasants, most of whom are starving. When the Emperor dies, supposedly poisoned by the red pills, his heir is too young to rule, leaving his chief advisor, Wei Zhongxian (Dahong) in control.
Following the new Emperor’s coronation, a team of specially trained soldiers called the Secret Squad are sent to capture a notorious bandit called Jade Raksasha (Bingbing) who, with her gang, is based at a hilltop fortress called Fort Luna. The fortress is also the target of Huang Taiji (Yikuan) who knows its strategic importance; he needs to capture it before he can march on the Palace. At Chuan-Shan the Governor discovers that several dozen of his people have died from typhoid. Jade and her sister, Coral (Lee) attack the Governor (who also happens to be Yihang’s grandfather) and warn him not to continuing oppressing his people, but in the meleé, Jin takes adsvnatage of the situation and kills him, blaming it on Jade. Coral is captured though Jade rescues her with the help of Yihang. At Fort Luna, the typhoid takes hold but Yihang finds a cure. He also realises that Jade is the young woman he met in the cave; true to his word he gives her a name: Lian Nishang (Silk Fairy).
With the aid of three masters from the Wudang clan, the Secret Squad infiltrate Fort Luna and demand Yihang returns with them to face charges of poisoning the previous Emperor. To avoid unnecessary bloodshed he agrees but not before he’s promised Lian that he’ll return one day, and that she need have no fear because she is his woman. At the Palace, Yihang is persuaded to help Zhongxian by taking the head of a rebel leader to his army as an example of what will happen if they side with Jin. The Wudang masters are outraged and refuse to acknowledge him any more. Word reaches Lian of what Yihang is doing, and that when he returns to the Palace he is to marry Zhongxian’s daughter Tingting (Yao). She goes to the Palace and confronts him but Yihang rebuffs her. The Palace guards try to capture her while she deals with the shock of Yihang’s betrayal and her hair turns white, but Tingting intervenes and she and Yihang are allowed to leave.
When they return to Fort Luna, Lian’s illness is such that she needs a special remedy from the Infernal Cave; Yihang makes the attempt to get it. He proves successful, but with Huang Taiji’s army fast approaching, a deal is made with General Jin’s forces, without anyone realising that Jin has already made a deal with Taiji and is set to betray them.
The fourth big screen adaptation for Liang Yusheng’s wuxia novel, Baifa Monü Zhuan – the previous three are Story of the White-haired Demon Girl (1959), White Hair Devil Lady (1980), and The Bride With White Hair (1993) – The White Haired Witch of Lunar Kingdom is a flat, mostly perfunctory retelling of the classic story, and a movie that struggles to make its central romance as compelling as it should be. Partly, the problem is that Bingbing and Xiaoming, while obviously a lovely couple, lack the kind of chemistry that would make their characters’ passion for each other so believable. As it is, they circle round each other like predators rather than ardent lovers, and their initial meeting in the cave appears redundant when placed next to Lian’s usual daily routine of rescuing abused peasants and beating up Chuan-Shan soldiers.
The convoluted politics of the time are another barrier to the average viewer’s enjoyment of the movie, with alliances and political bartering leading to various changes of allegiance and casually arranged alliances. It’s not a complicated set up, but it does feel forced at times, as if the makers felt they needed to add several twists and turns to keep things fresh (Yihang’s betrothal to Tingting is one such “twist”, and one that makes no sense at all). The fact that five screenwriters worked on the script isn’t exactly a good sign, and once the basic premise is set up, the movie’s middle section slows things down interminably as all the various elements are either sidelined in favour of the aforementioned underwhelming romance or are played out at a pace that promotes an unfortunate ennui in the viewer.
With the plot and storylines proving so dreary and lacklustre, Chi-Leung is unable to boost things to a level where continued interest is guaranteed, or the performances rise above the bland or uninspired level they operate at throughout. Bingbing and Xiaoming’s lack of chemistry aside, they deliver portrayals that lack consistency and depth, while Zhao as the villainous Jin is more of a double-dealing bureaucrat than a brutal general, and can’t even manage a decent condescending sneer when needed. Of the rest of the cast, perhaps the best performance comes from Yao as Tingting; she plays the part with just the right combination of apparent fragility and heartbreaking misfortune.
As for the action scenes they’re effectively choreographed, but rely too much on CGI and old-fashioned wire work to be truly spectacular. Some Western viewers may be upset by the treatment that a number of horses are subjected to in these scenes, and there are moments where the movie is unexpectedly gory (though there’s nothing that’s too disturbing). With the usual amount of panoramic vistas and sweeping camerawork mixed in with appropriately dust-blown peasant holdings, the look of the movie benefits from Lin Guohua’s often exquisite photography, and the overall recreation of 17th Century China is one of the few areas where the movie, thankfully, gets it right.
Rating: 5/10 – irritating and humdrum, The White Haired Witch of Lunar Kingdom is a movie where only “just enough” is done to keep the audience interested; somewhere between well-mounted and tedious, it aims for epic but achieves only a fraction of that, and never feels like it’s going to amount to much more than being an also-ran in the history of wuxia movies.
One of the few independent Chinese films to be made last year – and yet to be seen by China’s State Administration of Press, Publication, Radio, Film and Television (the movie industry’s governing body) – Trap Street starts off as an agreeable and potentially predictable romantic drama, as Qiuming (Lu) meets Lifen (He) and they begin a relationship. Lifen, though, is often gone for days at a time and acts mysteriously as well. Eventually, Qiuming discovers that Lifen works at a secret government laboratory, and the real idea behind the movie begins to show itself. When a pair of USB sticks that belong where Lifen works, end up in Qiuming’s hands for a while, the authorities react by keeping Lifen in a hotel for a couple of days and grilling him over it. Despite not accessing the USB sticks, the authorities refuse to believe he’s left them unaccessed or uncopied. Can Qiuming convince them of his innocence, or will he be arrested and charged with domestic terrorism?
This situation – an individual being detained by the police for 2-3 days without being charged or even formally arrested, and then let go – is increasingly common in modern-day China, and even happened to a friend of one of the crew members shortly after the movie was made. Why this happens so often no-one knows, but it makes for an interesting and absorbing movie, and shows the aftermath of denial and paranoia that all too often accompanies the detainment. Along with a pertinent assessment of the various ways technology allows us to interact with each other on a variety of emotional levels, Trap Street is an intelligent, thought-provoking movie that holds a mirror up to contemporary Chinese culture, and shows that, despite recent openings up to Western influences, there is still a very strict political machine in place that governs people’s lives. Vivian Qu, whose first feature this is, directs with skill and an eye for off-kilter framings that accentuate the odd things taking place. On this evidence, any future movies she chooses to make will be well worth watching.
Rating: 8/10 – a confident approach to the material keeps the viewer engrossed from beginning to end; good performances and an incisive script make Trap Street well worth checking out.
