Lilting

This is a gem. I wouldn't have watched it unless I had been taken. (Thank you, Beryle.) If it had been on TV, I might have watched some of it, but that is the joy of cinema. You have no distractions. I thought it might be depressing; it wasn't. I thought it wasn't my sort of film; it was. Thought-provoking.

It was easy to forget that you were watching actors. The performances were that good and very moving. It was very much like a French film.

It was interesting how much back-story was left out and yet it still worked. I asked myself a few questions because I wanted to know more. (Perhaps I felt I could help.) Where were we? (North-east London/Essex?) How long had she lived in England by depending on her husband and son for all communication with the outside world? What did people do for a living? Where did the translator come from and was she being paid? Without her son would she at last break out into the world? However I realised the back-story didn't matter. It told you all you needed to know. The nub was all that mattered: an insight into communication, memory and grief. Some things have to be said and some things are perhaps best left unsaid. The characters kept asking the translator not to translate after they had said something because they had time to see the effect it would have, (something that does not happen with a common language) but even the translator could not help but get involved.

You could speculate on a happier outcome but the final scene where she drifted back to the last meeting with her son perhaps indicated it would be a while yet before she could move on.

Very, very good.

Superficially speaking, the subject of LILTING resembles that of LOST IN TRANSLATION (2003), as Junn, a Cambodian Chinese mother (Pei-pei Cheng) living in London mourns the loss of her son Kai (Andrew Leung), while trying and failing to communicate with those around her. Kai's boyfriend Richard (Ben Whishaw), wants to help her, and engages the service of Vann, a translator (Naomi Christie) so that communication between himself and Junn might be improved. Meanwhile Alan (Peter Bowles), an elderly man, embarks on his own pursuit of Junn's hand.

However Hong Khaou's film looks at the difficulties of communication at a much deeper level than the purely linguistic. He invites us to reflect on the wisdom of Kai's decision to put his mother in sheltered accommodation, whose dingy décor is designed to make elderly people 'feel better.' Despite Richard's basic kindness and his protestations of endless love for Kai, we wonder whether he actually understand what either Kai or Junn actually think. Maybe it's not really necessary to hire a translator: communication between individuals can take place at a subliminal level. Vann does her best to act as an intermediary between Junn and Richard, or Junn and Alan, but it's clear that her role is a peripheral one in the drama of familial relationships across cultures.

Shot in deliberately dark colors, LILTING depicts a world whose protagonists live in perpetual isolation, both literal as well as psychological. Junn's sheltered accommodation is both dark and prison-like; her fellow-residents seldom communicate except in clichés (Alan included). Richard's apartment is full of long, brick-lined passages; his kitchen is full of dirty cutlery, suggesting a fundamental inability to cope with life.

Our relationship with the two central protagonists is a complex one. Whishaw tries his best to render Richard a sympathetic character, but the more effort he makes to try and bridge the cultural differences separating himself from Junn, the more frustrated he becomes. His final outburst, where he accuses Junn of failing to "assimilate" to contemporary British cultures, is a classic colonialist statement, leaving us to reflect on why he himself did not do more to adapt himself to her mores. By contrast Junn remains both silent and serene; her final soliloquy reveals her determination to continue her existence, despite the prospect of future loneliness. She does not need to "assimilate"; she has found her own way to negotiate the culture she inhabits.

Modestly budgeted yet memorably staged by a director with an obvious affinity for the material, LILTING is an absorbing cinematic experience.

A British guy trying to make a connection with the conservative Chinese mother of his deceased partner; the theme and the gloomy cinematography make you sad even before the story begins to unfold. Communication is the main problem over here. They somehow manage with the help of a translator, and I like how they sometimes say things and then tell the translator not to translate it (because they realise how it would sound). This leads to few funny moments occasionally.

The movie has a really good start, but after halfway through, the Director/Writer loses his way; it seemed as if he's not sure as to where to take the story. By the time it ended, I felt dissatisfied; the story should have been longer or the characters should have been explored and developed a little more.

The two leads, Ben Whishaw and Pei-pei Cheng, give quite strong and incredible performances; they have a few immensely moving scenes. And it doesn't hurt that Andrew Leung, the actor playing the deceased partner, is quite handsome; he and Ben looked quite good together, which makes his death even more painful.

The conversations the two lead characters share are quite moving and thought-provoking, and the monologue Junn has towards the end on the essence of grief and crying is really beautiful. Let me quote the most effective lines from it: "These memories are all I have; I need to keep them vivid, or they'll fade like the face of my husband. I want to dwell on these memories and cry over them because they comfort me. Through plenty of crying, I've learnt to be content that I won't always be happy, secure in my loneliness, hopeful that I'll be able to cope."

The movie is depressing, yet uplifting, but somehow I feel, it failed to reach its true potential.

This is the debut feature film for Hong Khaou, and being of Cambodian descent, I imagine this movie may be semi-autobiographical, though that is obviously pure speculation. This interesting little film (running on an insanely low budget of 12,000 pounds if I am not mistaken) is about a Chinese-Cambodian elderly woman, Junn (veteran actress Pei-Pei Chang), who has just lost her son Kai, not long after he put her into a home. He was gay, but could never bring himself to tell his mother. This was the reason she ended up in the home and not living with him and his boyfriend Richard (Ben Whishaw).

When Richard enters the fold initially he seems like a stranger, at least as far as Junn is concerned, and to make it harder, he can't communicate with Junn as she can speak 8 different dialects, but refuses to learn English despite living in the UK. Despite their differences, despite the overwhelming obstacles to hurdle, Richard is not intending on giving up trying to talk to his partner's mother. They share the same pain, but Junn has no idea of this. Since Junn doesn't know about the same-sex relationship her son was having, Richard's job becomes at least twice as tough, as he has to act as Kai's 'best friend', trying to connect with Junn that they both are sharing the same misery, the same loneliness and sense of loss after losing a loved one.

Along the way Junn meets a gentleman who is also a resident at the home. Playing an amusingly dry old codger, Peter Bowles as Alan is smitten by Junn, yet they have no way of truly communicating. Richard rectifies this by hiring a translator, which helps both Alan and Richard as it opens up a dialog between the different parties, for better or worse. Richard continues to go to endless lengths to try and communicate and help Junn overcome her son's death, as unwilling as she seems, as well as trying to help negotiate the problems Junn and Alan are having; it seems the possibility of a relationship with Alan may be slim. And so the story goes, moving from this premise into emotional territory where each character's decision is not easy, and someone as stubborn as Junn makes life difficult for Richard and the translator he has to help smooth the process… Which doesn't go as smoothly as planned.

This film is extremely depressing at points and heartwarming at others. It is nice to see a film with a real heart without dipping into overly sentimental trite. The true unforgettable message that this film gave me was how it illustrated how culture can truly alienate us; from loved ones, from people who want to help. But at the same time, it highlights elements of the human condition that transcend culture, such as family, or music. I didn't think I'd enjoy this as much as I did, it isn't my type of film really. But I really liked it. Probably also because I have seen how truly heart-breaking it is to make that decision to put a parent/grandparent in a home really is. It ain't pretty.

8/10 - If you aren't looking for action, and are interested in watching a more thought-provoking movie that really will pull at your emotions, check this one out. The absurdly low budget is not noticeable at all, especially given the quality of the production, from the perfect sequence of scenes, to the subtle but interesting photography work and the minimal but effective soundtrack.

This isn't a film that I will revisit immediately, unlike many others than have been released this year. But I know that a time will come where I suddenly will have to put this on. It is a powerful, emotional film that subtly comments on the differences of cultures and/or language, the stigma that is still attached to same-sex couples, especially among older, more 'traditional' people, but most importantly, a few key scenes show us that differences in culture, in language, in beliefs, can be transcended, and no matter what the barriers between communication may be, humanity can prevail.

It is not impossible to share true, meaningful moments with someone who cannot speak a word of your language. This film excels at showing this, linking us all as human, no matter our colour, our culture or our beliefs.

Though being generally positive about this film, I must admit upfront that I had problems with its use of flashbacks featuring the deceased Kai. I only understood afterwards on the way home what I missed, while apparently easily picked up by others whose reviews I saw. The first example is the scene with Kai and Junn, shown twice, the first time ending when someone entered the room to replace a light bulb but does not see Kai, making clear for most viewers (apparently, but not for me) that Kai existed only in Junn's mind. The second appearance of this scene ended before the bulb-change person entered, so I had no chance to reconsider. Kai died some time ago, and I only knew that from reading the synopsis beforehand, and a virtual visit like this one was Junn's own way to keep the reminiscences of her son alive. A second example where I missed the obvious were the scenes with Kai and Richard at home, apparently (again, in hindsight) happening in the past, where they talk about living together with or without Junn, in either case how and when to reveal the true nature of their gay relationship. Rationally speaking (again, while looking back), it is abundantly clear that these flashbacks were inevitable to clarify the respective relationships. Yet I think there could have been thought of other ways to accomplish that, without hampering our chronological narrative way of thinking that usually works best. The way it is done now feels a bit artificial, and it hampered my viewing experience. I am prepared to admit that the latter can be my fault altogether.

Perfectly clear throughout the whole running time is that Junn and Richard belong to two different worlds. There is much more than merely a language barrier that withholds them from really communicating. The interpreter he hired, Vann, dismisses Junn's lack of knowledge of the English language, calling her a "lazy bitch" which was obviously a common phenomenon under female immigrants. On one hand they could depend on their spouse or children to interface with the outer world, and on the other hand it demonstrates Junn's bland refusal to adapt to the world where she lived in for many years. That also explains how the English way to take care of the elderly, being very different from her own traditions, stood between Junn and Kai for a long time, in spite of Kai repeatedly saying that the home for the elderly she was put in, was just a "temporary" measure. Anyway, Kai did not have to cope with a language barrier, and still failed to drive the message home, particularly as he kept postponing a decision to explain the real relationship between himself and Richard, fearing she would not understand and working disruptively on the relationship between mother and son.

A nice find is the introduction of Alan as Junn's would-be lover. They "dated" several times before, both without understanding a word what the other was saying. This courting formed an excuse for Richard to hire Vann as an interpreter, fitting nicely his own hidden agenda to come closer to Junn. The relationship between Alan and Junn changes as soon as their communication improved. It brings several differences to light, some not so important but others seemingly insurmountable. Junn is not the modest passive woman we assumed at first sight; she can make her position very clear when felt necessary.

The final scene demonstrates hope for their future. Junn and Richard seem to be able to communicate without interpreter Vann translating each sentence (this is rather implicit, but even I understood by virtue of their body language). We see a mutual trust and understanding growing between the two when exchanging sentences, in spite of not really knowing what the other was saying. I must admit being a bit lost during this final scene. It took some time on the way home to grasp all the things that were shown implicitly. The preceding scenes were abundantly clear in comparison, but this one needed some afterthought. We can imagine for ourselves how their relationship is about to continue, this being left as an exercise for the viewer.