Printemps dans une petite ville

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.

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

Set in the days immediately following World War II, the Chinese film "Springtime in a Small Town" is a poetic, slow-moving meditation on the part that love, passion, compromise, self-sacrifice and renewal play in our lives and our relationships.

Liyan and Yuwen are a young married couple living in the crumbling ancestral home of the man's deceased parents. Struggling under the burden of an arranged marriage, Liyan and Yuwen have been drifting farther and farther apart over time - he obsessing over his chronic health problems (possibly psychosomatic in nature) and she secretly yearning for a more fulfilling life away from this man who seems not to care for her. Then one day, Zhang, an old boyhood pal of Liyan's, comes to pay a visit. Now a doctor, Zhang is shocked to discover that Liyan's wife is Yuwen, the very woman whom he loved but left ten years earlier. Tensions very quickly develop in the household as Zhang and Yuwen begin to take steps towards rekindling their romance - forcing each of the three individuals to come to terms with long unresolved desires and emotions.

In its quiet, subtle way, "Springtime in a Small Town" explores what happens when human emotions and passions are repressed under the weight of societal restrictions and cultural traditions. Writer Cheng Ah and director Zhuangzhuang Tian unfold their story slowly, never feeling the need to rev up the action or overemphasize a detail to make a point. The film establishes a hypnotic rhythm and a tone of quiet contemplation from the outset, allowing us to soak in all that is happening on the screen at our own leisure. For despite the fact that there may not SEEM to be a lot happening in the film, there is actually a wealth of human drama taking place right beneath the placid surface of the tale. These are characters whose every word, every gesture reveals some aspect of the universal human condition. To heighten the intimacy of the piece, Ah and Tian have circumscribed their canvas so that only five people even make an appearance in the film (Liyan's teenaged sister and an aged family servant are the movie's other two characters). "Canvas" is indeed the operative word here, for Tian has treated this film much like he would a painting, capturing his characters in stark tableau often set against strikingly beautiful natural landscapes. The camera glides along at an unhurried pace, helping to draw us into this strangely beautiful world where seething human passions play themselves out in settings. The filmmakers also deserve credit for providing a remarkably ambiguous ending. We really aren't quite sure how we are supposed to react at the end of the movie and that is as it should be when it comes to art.

The lovely Jingfan Hu is both heartbreaking and not a little frightening as the normally composed young woman who may not be quite as sweet and submissive as she appears to be on the surface. The shots of her strolling through the countryside in all her placid, regal beauty are haunting and memorable in their exquisiteness. Jun Wu as Liyan and Bai Qing Xin as Zhang also give excellent performances, never allowing their strong feelings to rise much above the level of a whisper. Liyan is a particularly fascinating character in that we get the sense that he may be using his "illness" as a means of avoiding the responsibilities and pressures of being a true husband to his wife. The power struggle that develops among the three of them is devastating in its understatement and subtlety.

There's no denying that "Springtime in a Small Town" demands a certain amount of patience from the viewer. But anyone who opens himself up to the beauty of its images and the truth of its observations will find it to be a profoundly rewarding experience well worth the time and patience.

The cinematography is the definite star of this film. Although the surrounding countryside is a bit stark (after all, WWII was to have just ended), the camera work was extremely beautiful. Slowly sweeping and creeping cameras really gave the movie an unusual feel and greatly enhanced the film.

The story itself is interesting, though the plot seems a little too slowly paced. I think about ten minutes could have been shaved off here and there and by tightening the film, it might have had a slightly better impact. However, the story itself is interesting and is an odd but excellent love story.

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.