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Liyan and Yuwen live in a rural town in post-war China. Liyan's impotence and health worries have meant that the couple remain childless, although they do look after his younger sister. The emotional separation that Yumen feels with her husband has caused a physical separation, with the couple sleeping in separate rooms. Liyan is surprised but pleased when school friend Zhang Zhichen comes to visit him – although he is surprised to learn that Zhang grew up with Yuwen before he met him. What he doesn't know though is that the pair were young lovers and, while young Xiu falls for the older Zhang, Yuwen also battles the sexual desire within herself.

The plot makes it sound like a very folded in affair that gives little away but suggests lots and that is pretty much exactly what this film is. When I taped it I thought that I was going to be watching the original film rather than this remake but I still found it well worth the watch even if some say it is an inferior film. That may just be a bit of film snobbery (though I have not seen the original) because I personally found this version to be quite rewarding and interesting. It requires patience though, and anyone tuning in not prepared to sit silently for two hours should probably not bother starting it because it is a film that, on the surface, doesn't have a great deal going on. It is the inaction rather than the action that makes the film interesting because it is all about the repression inherent in the characters and, supposedly, the society they live in.

Of course the mood of the film is very obvious and some viewers will just sigh and say "oh good another foreign period film about sexual repression" and I must admit that here and there I was thinking that because it does fold in on itself so much at times that I worried it would create a black hole. Fortunately it does just enough to avoid this and for the majority it keeps the surface moving by allowing the audience to see the undercurrents clearly. It won't be to everyone's taste but if you like things like In The Mood For Love and Merchant & Ivory films then you will enjoy this.

Director Tian makes the film look great and his slow, patient camera movements compliment the material well and helped me as a viewer get into it. The cast are also good and benefit from having few others to distract from the main characters. Jingfan Hu is strong as Yuwen and is able to suggest great passion and desire under the skin of a seemingly patient and quiet woman. Likewise Bai Qing Xin plays his character the same way and does well to work with and against Hu. Jun Wu has a harder task and, although he is good, I didn't think he had as clear and understandable a character as the other two. Si Si Lu is OK but the film rightly sees her as a side issue.

Overall this is a fine film that is worth seeing if you have the patience which it does ask you to have. The emotions are stifled but not to the point where the film dies away or appears cold – rather it is tense and dramatic for the most part. At times it threatens to fold away like a deckchair but mostly it is engaging and beautifully crafted.

The movie concerns a tragic emotional triangle between Zhang Zhichen, a successful doctor, who, on returning from Shanghai finds that his long lost sweetheart Yuwen, has married his best friend in his absence. That his best friend, Dai Liyan is a bit of a passionless, malingering whinger (whom, we are given to understand, is somewhat lacking in the trouser department) is, I think, supposed to tip our guilty sympathies toward the unrequited pair. However, there is no lingering eye contact, no haltingly emotional dialogue, no inadvertent contact, in fact no telegraphing of emotion of any kind between the friend and the wife. Yumen recites her lines as if they were a shopping list, and Zhang Zhichen seems to be reading his off the back off his eyelids. This peculiar lack of chemistry between the erstwhile lovers means that for me at least, this movie never gets off the ground. This is a real shame, as it is almost impossible to find fault with the LOOK of this movie. The cinematography is absolutely spot on, establishing shots are just where they need to be, POVs are perfect, the lighting reveals where it should and creates pools of shadow for the actors to move in and out of. Slow pans through densely textured interiors, alternately obscuring and disclosing, give an almost vertiginous sense of solidity and depth to the stage upon which the actors perform. That the actors don't seem to know how to convey the intensity and recklessness of true love upon that stage is the real tragedy of this movie. Two stars for acting, four for set design and cinematography

I usually don't dig Chinese movies. As far as asian cinema is concerned, I am more a Japanese or Korean fan. But this Springtime is bliss. Just about everything is beautiful, from script to cinematography to acting (with the notable exception of the girl who plays the young sister, whom I thought was over-acting).

One thing I thought was interesting is the way director Tian expressed his intention of editing from the original version of the movie (shot in the '50s) all the elements that would not appeal to a viewer today. Therefore, we must assume that pre-arranged weddings are still a common fact in today's China. What about love ?

Well, enough for the pseudo-sociological analysis. On a more pleasure-oriented level, this is a jewel. Not a perfect movie, granted, I couldn't rate it more than the 8 I gave it, but such a nice little piece of work. Colors, sounds, camera movements, actor's play, everything is fluid, warm, inhabited. A very nice springtime in a small town indeed...

Spoilers

An alternative title of this film could have been the one for a recent local play in town: 'Tiny ripples in still waters' (as literally translated. 'Still waters' obviously have nothing to do with the fictitious rock band featured in 'Almost Famous'. It just means a dead pool).

This film reminds me immediately of the Italian gem Facing Windows I saw recently in Toronto, for which my comments started out thus: 'The ripple-in-a-mundane-life type of story is difficult to handle'. Both films deal with a stagnant marriage, and the ripple created by the intrusion of a man. The circumstances are however different, but I am not going to start comparing and contrasting the two. For Springtime, the main cause of the marital problem is the husband's (Liyan) lingering ailment. His home-coming childhood friend (Zeichen) turns out to be also the wife's (Yuwen) teen sweetheart. The only two other characters are Liyan's little sister, just turning 16, and a faithful old manservant.

The pace is slow but the film is absorbingly mesmerising. Behind the deceptively simple dialogue is an undercurrent of ebbs and flows of emotions, particularly in the case of Hu Jingfan playing Yuwen. (Look beyond the surface of the words she speaks into the subtly varying tone, the nuances, and the ever so slight shift in the timbre of her voice). Masterly use of a slowly panning camera creates the melancholy mood sustaining the intriguing lure of the film.

Particularly worth mentioning is the brilliant climax of the 'drinking' scene. I won't spoil it with inapt descriptions. If Hu Jingfu's performance has been subtle hitherto, it's sparkling in that scene.

Film critics in town who have seen the original 1948 version claim that it is even better. Hope to get a chance to see it. In any event, this re-make is well worth recommending to those who have the capacity to appreciate.

* * * *

Update - March 2005.

Have now seen the original, which certainly lives up to its reputation, but can't agree with the verdict that the remake is inferior.

The Chinese film Springtime in a Small Town is a stately, unwaveringly discreet movie, but one with more quiet resonance than many of its Western equivalents. It reminds us superficially of the films of Merchant-Ivory - it possesses the sense of tactful distance, the quality of not wanting to deal with any unseemly emotions, that characterizes such staid, painterly efforts as Howards End, A Room With a View and that classic of repressed-librarian-cinema, The Remains of the Day - but director Zhuangzhuang Tian has a greater talent for letting emotion slip in the backdoor than James Ivory, who is often lauded for his subtlety, but is not criticized enough for being a prudish old grandma. Zhuangzhuang's film involves a quartet of characters engaged in a slow, elegant emotional dance. The story takes place in the aftermath of WWII, when China is just starting to pick up the pieces after the devastation wrought on it by the Japanese. Sickly Dai Liyan (Jun Wu) lives with his dutiful-but-frustrated wife Yuwen (Jingfan Hu) and bubbly young sister Xiu (Si Si Lu) in a large, dilapidated house; Liyan's old friend Zhang Zhichen (Bai Qing Xin), a doctor and ex-resistance-fighter from Shanghai, drops in for a visit, much to the delight of everyone in the dreary household. Zhichen, it turns out, was also childhood friends with Yuwen and Xiu; we quickly realize that Zhichen and Yuwen still have feelings for each other, and learn that they had designs on marriage before the war whisked Zhichen away. The personalities of the characters are all carefully delineated, and fit with each other like pieces of a puzzle; Zhuangzhuang puts the picture together slowly, eschewing big dramatic revelations for moments where the relationships take subtle shifts. Such an exercise in formality, peopled by characters who are not exactly big on coming out with anything (except little Xiu, who has still not learned what it means to be a lady), will inevitably wear on the patience at times, but Zhuangzhuang has a way of injecting enough subdued poetry into his images that we don't mind the time it takes for the pieces to snap into place. It's not the kind of movie that reaches for big emotional effects, but neither is it the type that seems to shy away from emotion altogether. Movies like the Merchant-Ivory works are fastidious, grammatically impeccable and fairly heartless, while Springtime in a Small Town, for all its restraint, manages to resonate in the end. The difference between James Ivory and Zhuangzhuang Tian is obvious - Ivory keeps his distance for fear of emotion, while Zhuangzhuang keeps his out of simple politeness.