Lu bian ye can

The set up for this film is long and not particularly interesting. The protagonist often narrates poetry that I didn't care for, and everything before the long tracking-shot felt boring and not anywhere near as compelling as the film that the director, Bi Gan, would go on to direct (Long Day's Journey into Night).

But everything from that long tracking-shot up to and including the ending (what a final shot!) is something unlike anything I've ever experienced before in film. Like a future or long-past memory being made and enacted in real-time.

We follow a handful of characters as they move about a small town in rural China, the camera switching seamlessly between them in an act of mesmerizing cinematography, no matter how they are travelling or however relevant they may seem to be to the mediocre plot. As this happens, we begin to familiarize ourselves with the location almost to the point that we could map it out, if we had to. You start to feel as though this town is a place you have actually (but only briefly) visited as a tourist who will go on to look back on the time spent there with bittersweet nostalgia. The people, the place. All of it. It has a personality of its own, but calls upon some of your own memories of places and people you remember well, but don't truly know all that well. Just as a tourist would remember but not know the people and places from his transient experiences with them.

Never have I felt so much of a connection to a location in a film, to the point where it practically feels like a real-life experience of my own.

All this might sound very wanky, which is something I was going to accuse the film of being until it reached this part of the film. It won't be the kind of movie that everyone will enjoy, and I'm not even sure I can recommend it.

I'm not entirely sure I understand the film's overall message. And I'm not even quite sure I want to, as it may take away from my very personal journey that it took me on. I probably won't even re-watch this film. Just as you can't relive memories so vividly. That said, just like Bi Gan's more recent film (Long Day's Journey into Night), it clearly plays around with the ideas of memory and dreams. Though I think Kaili Blues is more of a challenge to understand, with all the wanky poetry, cultural differences and references to "wild-men" urban legends.

Some great films can be ruined by a scene, whereas other films such as this, could be elevated from mediocrity to something fresh, exciting and beyond words.

Overall, Long Day's Journey into Night is a far better structured film, with a much more interesting protagonist and plot, but the flawed masterpiece of Kaili Blues manages to achieve something far more significant in its last 55 minutes (that goes by as quickly as a memory of a dream), than most films can hope to achieve in their entirety.

Bi Gan is a director worth the attention.

Kaili Blues - 8/10. Long Day's Journey into Night - 7/10.

This is truly a very surprising film. After glancing past a lot of reviews, I just thought of this film as the stereotype of many artistic films: obscure and crammed with inexplicable meanings. True, this film is all that, but not at all in a bad, sketchy way. First, you have to know that in order to really love the film, you have to be Chinese or have a very very deep association with the Chinese culture. Bi Gan, the director, tells a story from the most overseen part of Chinese culture, it is a part that often stems from a mixture of childhood memories, folklore, and the daily life. It touches me in a way not at all expected and seems to speak to me from the deepest, most hidden memories of childhood, when everything is sort of blurred and juxtaposed together. Second, what's also wonderful about this film is that Bi Gan was able to make this motion picture ----- which for decades has resembled storytelling ----- a poetic narration. He mixes together quite a bit of images and symbolisms, and although the way he puts it together seems to be quite intuitive, the product is incredibly beautiful.

KAILI BLUES: A DEMANDING, STUNNING EXPERIENCE

KAILI BLUES is an extraordinary film….not just a good first feature, not just a good independent Chinese film.…but an imperfect dazzling masterpiece.

Audiences who watch normal films bring strong ideas of what makes effective, satisfying storytelling.…I came expecting another good festival art film from China, yet even as a film director/critic, it took me 45 minutes to suddenly realise and understand what the director was brilliantly achieving with fresh cinematic language and vision. From then on I was mesmerised and deeply moved.

This film doesn't satisfy cinematic art or entertainment preconceptions….It is unique, thrilling personal cinema, that communicates on different conscious and subconscious levels, conceptually, visually, emotionally.

BI GAN, the very young film director/poet in his 20s, is already an honest, open, accomplished artist, with well-deserved self-confidence (ego firmly in-check), dynamic creative ambitions, and skills to accomplish them. I don't want to burden him with this, or sound pretentious and preposterous – but I couldn't help flashing on Orson Welles during "Citizen Kane".

Wang Tianxing's cinematography was stunning, perfectly merging with the dynamic style and viewpoints of the story. No matter how many camera persons were used or their professional experience, everything flowed seamlessly emotionally. The magical 41-minute single moving shot is as revolutionary as Sokurov's landmark "Russian Ark," with greater psychological and emotional resonance. Memory, fantasy, and reality weave through and around each other.

Film crafts and cinema language are used smoothly and very effectively: visually powerful rural locations in Kaili, Guizhou Province, China (used with subtlety and respect), "costumes" (real lived-in clothes), props (from real homes and villages). Production design, sound, and editing are all creatively professional.

The Producers did a remarkable job during pre-production, shooting, and post-production, because there must have been daily stressful problems to overcome.

The actors – 99% non-professional - are perfectly cast and directed. Chen Yongzhong's memorable presence holds together all the wonderful characters in the 110-minute film.

Traditional Chinese, Miao, children's song, local band, actor's song, new music, and terrific end credit duet, are all evocative and touching.

KAILI BLUES should be seen at least two times, and discussed by film students in every international serious film school, and by audiences who are passionate about cinema in all countries within and outside China.

(Since this is a glowing review, I must say that I have absolutely no connection with the film or anyone who made it.)

I was recommended to watch this film by a very good friend of mine who has the similar tastes on movies and literature and other kinds of art. He recommended me to see the short film Jingang Jing by Gan Bi. Yes, the short is good too, and has some kind of connection with Lu bian ye can. Back to the movie, it is the way he talk the story and shoot the film which makes me surprise and enjoy. When graduated from film Academy, Gan Bi became a video guy for weddings, and thanks to the wedding films experiences, he used the skills to this movie and the long dizzy shot brought me the climax of wander and fly. As a young director, this movie is a little immature to me, and to be honest, I enjoy this feeling.

Chinese filmmaker Bi Gan's awards-winning debut, KAILI BLUES, in fact, the literal translation of its Chinese title is "roadside picnic", which appears to be the name of a frayed paperback collection of poems we can glance in one scene relatively near the beginning, and indeed poem suffuses in Bi's oneiric idiom, told through the voice-over of our protagonist Chen Shen (Chen Yongzhong).

The opening shot is a nearly 360-degree roving take setting against in a fixed position, a sparse clinic where Chen works with an elderly doctor (Zhao), they live in Kaili, a foggy, soggy, slight crummy town in China's southeast, subtropical Guizhou province. In lieu of plying audience with Chen's backstory, Bi cogently puts beauty derived from quotidian scenery in a salient place where a laconic storyline takes its form most subtly, the place where a young boy Weiwei (Luo) and his father Crazy Face (Xie) lives is decrepit and noisy to a fault, but strikingly there is a cascade just in vicinity, which promptly gives the said place an almost surreal grandeur, also Bi manifests his ingenuity by capturing the reflection of a passing train on the wall, a blunt intrusion brutally shattering the homely equilibrium but who can deny its aesthetic signification, plus, a passing train would later give the film's ending a divine "turning-back-time" coup-de-maître.

Soon it transpires that Chen is an ex-convict, and Crazy Face is his brother, but there is bad blood between them (which always has to do with family inheritance, properties in particular), Chen notices that Crazy Face is a deliberately negligent parent and suspects that he is going to sell Weiwei. So when Weiwei is sent away to Monk (Yang), a former gangster ringleader Chen once worked for and for whom he is locked behind the bars, he embarks on an excursion to look for his nephew Zhenyuan, and concurrently, to locate his colleague's old flame, who has Miao pedigree and now falls gravely ill.

The magic occurs when he reaches a town called Dang Mai, where Bi employs an audacious long take running over 40 minutes following Chen and other people he meets there, in particular, a local girl Yangyang (Guo), who is going to work as a tourist guide in Kaili and a young man also named Weiwei (Yu) who overtly carries a torch for her but she seems not to reciprocate. When reality, past, dream are entwined in that bucolic loop, Bi even risks betraying the camera's own existence in order to achieve this cinematic wizardry, is this Weiwei is a future version of Chen's nephew? Does the hairdresser (Liu) he meets is a reincarnation of his deceased wife? When Chen wears the shirt which is delivered to his colleague's Miao lover, is he reliving an imaginative past to give away the cassette, the pledge of romance and courtship? There are cues and incongruities, but the whole enterprise is so remarkably done that should it be singled out as an absolute high water mark from a tenderfoot in the sphere of filmmaking.

Taking the mantle from Chinese indie trailblazers (Jia Zhangke is the obvious object of reference), Bi Gan has a particular knack of marshaling amateur cast and sampling everyday settings to evince a strangely, but also affectingly enigmatic quality bordering on an amalgam of warmth, other-worldliness and allure, converging with its poetic undertow, kismet-galvanized mythos, beguiling scenery shots, peculiar camera composition and astonishing visual fluidity, plus other perverse quirks: the movie's title materializes roughly 30 minutes into its duration, and its opening credits are read out loud which harks back to Pasolini's THE HAWK AND THE SPARROW (1966, 7.5/10) where the credits are given a singsong treatment, KAILI BLUES is the whole package for art cinephiles, and more encouragingly, Bi Gan is very possible, "the" most electrifying discoveries of recent Chinese cinema.