Au-delà des montagnes

Jia Zhangke is a prominent figure in contemporary world cinema as one of the leading directors of the so-called sixth generation of Chinese filmmakers. He has become known for his personal films which discuss social transition in modern China through the experience of the individual. Zhangke's latest film "Mountains May Depart" (2015) continues this in an essential, if not exactly surprising, fashion. Like "A Touch of Sin" (2013) and "Still Life" (2006), the film has an episodic structure, but narrative is much more conventional and straight-forward. While there is a lot of change in narrative focalization, "Mountains May Depart" is strongly structured around the protagonist Tao, played by the director's muse Tao Zhao, whose life unfolds before us in three distinct periods: 1999, 2014, and 2025. Thus Zhangke takes a look behind, reflects on the present, and anticipates the future of the Chinese society.

As a social film, "Mountains May Depart" studies the individual in the grip of a changing world. It tackles the difficulty of communication to the extent where parents need interpreters to talk to their children. Globalization, capitalism, and the new freedom of the 21st century do not offer comfort or help, but rather appear as rootlessness, alienation, and solitude in the lives of people.

All of Zhangke's films are, more or less, about change, but in "Mountains May Depart" this theme manifests itself clearly on the level of style and narrative. Zhangke's narrative includes a modernist combination of perspectives, creating a simple complexity which is never disorienting, as different characters are followed throughout the film, enhancing a pluralist sense of multitude and change. While Zhangke's style has been known as consisting of long takes and complex camera movement, "Mountains May Depart" presents a greater variety in style. Zhangke's camera keeps a short distance to the characters, mainly on the level of the medium shot, but there are also memorable establishing extreme long shots which highlight the minuteness of the individual in a vast landscape. The camera does move a lot, though perhaps subtly, but the editing rhythm is not strikingly slow. One of the most conspicuous stylistic elements of the film is the changing aspect ratio. The first episode is shot in the letterbox 4:3 ratio, the second in the contemporary standard 16:9, and the last in the widescreen format 2.35:1. This constant widening of the aspect ratio of the image reflects not only the globalization of the Chinese society and the characters moving outside of their homeland but also a more primordial experience of change that is constant in human existence. It embraces the Heraclitean flux.

Thus Zhangke poeticizes the experience of change in a cinematic fashion; that is to say, he utilizes cinematic means to articulate a profound, existential experience of change. This he does by combining features that change (the aspect ratio, the focalizing perspective) with perpetual elements such as recurring songs ("Go West" by Pet Shop Boys), dramatic motifs (the dog, the keys), and the intimate cinematography. Like the characters, Zhangke's style and narrative seem to be searching for a red line, something that gives meaning and coherence in a world of change.

While "Mountains May Depart" might feel like a minor work in Zhange's oeuvre, it does redeem itself for a patient spectator. Like Zhangke's other films, it too looks at the contemporary Chinese society, the inevitable transition from the perspective of the individual, and modern identity in an ever-changing world. Although there certainly is sadness to all this, Zhangke's film is also quite optimistic and bright in comparison to his previous, darker film "A Touch of Sin". Mountains may depart -- the very borders of the image may broaden -- but something will endure. It is, in fact, as if higher levels of discourse were trying to find unity amidst variety: something that remains in the perpetual flux of change.

Mountains May Depart, directed by Zhangke Jia, is a very fine Chinese drama, whose timeline spans some twenty-five years from the past, to the present, to the future, representing China in the modern age and possibly where it's headed. It is something that's quite unique and interesting. Jia was also the director of a movie I saw a few years ago called A Touch of Sin, and while I remember admiring that film (which is of a considerably darker subject matter than this one), it left me feeling a little cold, while I enjoyed the experience of Mountains May Depart more.

The main character in story, who is connected in one way or another to almost every other prominent person, is a woman named Tao Zhao, played by Shen Tao. She is the heart of the film even during much of the parts she's not in, playing it with empathy and truth in her journey, a very fine performance. There are two other good performances by Yi Zhang and Jing Dong Liang, and these three main character evolve significantly through time. But the main strength is a story dealing themes of class and materialism, and the cost of progress, put together in a way worthy of these universal human subjects.

Mountains does have some issues in the final of the three acts as it becomes a little odd--odd in a way that that might have worked with different material, but doesn't quite fit with the rest of this film. Still, this is an overall fascinating and moving experience, well-acted and written, making itself very relatable and is an impressive way to view these people over time.

Finally caught up Jia's latest film in the cinema during my sojourn in China, more than one month after its national theatrical release, quite a long-run if you are familiar with China's booming but money-seeking film market, an art house feature can barely survive even for one week if attendance fails to hold up. Also notably it is his first theatrical release in China after 24 CITY (2008).

MOUNTAINS MAY DEPART forms a ternary narrative within 3 different time-span with an ever- wider Aspect Ratio (1.37:1, 1.85:1 and 2.35:1). The first chapter is in 1999, in a Northern east industrial town, on the eve of the millennium, audience is invited to participate in a love-triangle among Tao (Zhao) and her two childhood friends Jinsheng (Zhang) and Liangzi (Liang), the stability of a harmonious triangle (Chinese are too materialistic and selfish to even have the gut to attempt the enticing romanticism epitomised half-an-century ago in JULES AND JIM, 1962) disintegrates when men's possession comes to the fore. Oscillating between a colliery upstart and a destitute coal-miner, Tao's eventual choice is perfectly legitimate if put oneself in her shoes, we might most likely make the same decision - a future capitalist is far superior than a working-class honest man. Then Jia's trademark metaphorical injection of a crashing seeder becomes the harbinger of a downcast future for Tao and at the end of first chapter, the title card belatedly appears on the screen, "山河故人", its literal translation should be "mountain, river and old friend".

The second chapter fast-forwards 15 years to the present, in 2014, Liangzi returns to hometown with his wife and their child, suffering from undisclosed disease due to long-term hard labor, he is desperate to borrow money for his medical treatment, and Tao is his last resort. Divorced from Jinsheng, who has remarried and moved to Shanghai with their son Daole (homophonous to dollar), the forty-year-old Tao is a successful business woman owns a petrol company. Ironically it is also money, which has destroyed their rapport in the first place, finally mends their broken friendship, but also tragically shoves them drift farther away, leaving both a wistful aftertaste. Only so much for Liangzi, who will be left out altogether in the following story. A family funeral reunites Tao and an eight-year-old Daole (Rong) for a couple of days, but the gaping physical distance is too detrimental to shape an intimate mother-son connection, before leaving, Tao leaves him a key to remind him there will always be a home for him.

The final chapter sets in the near future, in 2025, Daole (Dong), now a college student living in Australia with Jinsheng, experiences the Oedipus complex in the most impressionable age, aggravated by the strained relationship with his father (encapsulated by the language barrier), a lost sense of belonging, and the vague memory of his birth mother, he develops a may-December romance with his Chinese teacher Mia (Chang), a middle-aged divorcée. Home is calling, but Jia leaves an open ending, it ends with Tao dancing to Pet Shop Boys' GO WEST in the snow-land, completes a formative salute to the opening dancing sequence, the same song, 26 years apart.

MOUNTAINS MAY DEPART tellingly marks that Zhangke Jia has transitioned to a new phase of filmmaking, less pungent (but not less insightful) in his social commentary but more aware of a film's holistic overview, it is also the first time in his works he creates a future scenario, although the third part is the weakest link, it is a step of trying something out of his comfort zone, where he masterly applies Sally Yeh's TAKE CARE, a Cantonese song from 1990, as a recurring motif to extract an air of undissipated melancholia. His script always finds its root in reality and excellently proffers a generous platform for its cast to portray various characters, Tao Zhao, Jia's wife and muse, delineates a demanding role ranging across almost three decades beautifully and compassionately, and Yi Zhang is the scene-stealing object of ridicule as a shallow parvenu, the excrescence of China's unbalanced development.

In a nutshell, MOUNTAINS MAY DEPART can't be estimated as the crest among Jia's filmography, but in a promising way, it takes him out of the pigeonhole as an uncompromising social observer and critic, an art-house devotee whose film is solely aiming for western recognition, and signifies his potential to concoct something more eclectic and emotionally abiding.

When everybody around me liked the director's previous film 'A Touch of Sin', I didn't. As a film fanatic, reject such kind of film is not an easy job without giving a proper reason. I thought that was a missed opportunity. I surely like art films, not the boring one like those aimlessly narrated. I really loved some of the scenes there, but here it was completely different. Most importantly, anybody would understand what the film is trying to say without trying too hard.

This is a theme where the China's rise was revealed from the three people's personal life perspective that was categorised to the three generations or the timelines. That's not it, the communism was also highlighted, how it held back the people's freedom. The writer was really smart to smoothly disclosing that to the world. I mean the film never dragged the China's ruling party or its system, but all were told from its character who struggled and if you use your brain, you will get it why.

The narration was divided into three episodes. The first one takes place in the year 1999, in a small town somewhere in the China which is economically backward. The story follows a young woman named Tao, who is caught in a love triangle. But for the practical reason, she has to choose one of them and when she does, the other guy leaves the town with the heartbroken. This is the foundation, that dragged for nearly 40 minutes. Obviously slow, but very realistic approach.

I grew up in the 90s, my country was not much different than what's in this film was shown. So I liked the atmosphere, all those the 90s set, the automobiles, lifestyle, the landscapes of the small towns et cetera taken me back to that time. But the thing is, it was China, society and culturally different. Anyway, it was past and what follows are totally flips the narration, including the perspective.

"You know the hardest thing, about love is caring."

The second episode takes place in the year 2014, which is something like the present. It reveals what's the status of all the main three characters, like where they're economically standing and the personal life struggles. Tao's married life did not go well and her son is around ten years old who visits her from Shanghai. The one who left the town is now returned and battling for his life for some reason.

In the last 15 years, the China significantly changed and still, this entire part is set in the same town which is now economically moved forward. Like the changing urban landscape, how these characters too changed were what focused on this section.

Then comes the final episode where it is now in the year 2025, that takes place somewhere in the Australia. The perspective was changed, the little boy is now in his 20s, seems lost is root. With his behaviour, you would notice that his lack of knowledge about his ancestors. He who has the differences with his father, decides to make his life as he wanted. That is why the parents should take responsibility to teach their children all the good things about their culture and traditions, and to carry on, it's up to them. Because losing one's identity could lead to the failures in the life.

This is the part I liked better. Because it was something like what I encountered in my life. Most of the childhood memories that returns after we're grown-up as the deja vu, like the history repeating itself. Here for pointing out the freedom one to buy a gun was indirectly hit the communism. I mean gun was not a threat, it was just an expressed how it affects people in all the similar circumstances. I meant, what something was hidden brings more eagerness for us to know about it than those are in the out. So forcing something on people is sometime is a bad idea.

All the actors were good, but apart from the slow screenplay, I liked the idea of this film. There are some other similar films, like how different generations behave and now this is among them, yet not the best out of all of them. Very much watchable, only if you are capable of handling slow drag. If you know this director very well or the fan of his works, you will find it a pretty interesting film. I won't recommend it, but I also won't either suggest you to skip it.

7.5/10

Read full review here: http://bit.ly/2eo9O3d

Somewhere in Mountains May Depart there's a quote I can't recall that says, effectively, you can't spend your entire life with any one other person. While this may not be categorically true, if you think through the eras of a life - as a baby, toddler, childhood, teenager, young adult, middle-age, and so on - it is unlikely that any one person will be a part of your daily interactions throughout. Considering that, it can be true that the impact someone has on your life may be greater than the portion of time you spend with them. Through a handful of characters whose lives intertwine over three distinct periods of time - 1999, 2014, & 2025 - Chinese-born director Jia Zhangke explores and rejoices in the emotional resonance of our relationships in Mountains May Depart.

The three epochs of the film are each brilliantly conceived aesthetically to provide a subtle atmospheric guide to the scenes they are home to within the story. The boxy, more realistic and grainy style of the 1999 sequence - designed to match actual documentary footage the director and his cinematographer shot from the same period - is a little more raw, like the youthful emotions the characters experience in their mid-20's. Here we have a love triangle where our central character, Tao, is confronted with a choice between the brash, rich, and charming Jinsheng and the humble coal-miner Liangzi. The 2014 section is a wider aspect ratio with a higher quality, yet natural visual reflecting Tao's middle-aged experience. Life's lessons have provided a bit more perspective and the muted colors are like some of her dreams that haven't worked out as planned. She's divorced and facing a continental estrangement from her 7-year old son. A fully widescreen format with an artificial, over-developed HD quality evokes a 2025 that is equally more advanced and more separated from the past. This is the backdrop as Tao's son Dollar has to learn why he feels unsettled in a life he's done little to create for himself. Here, in a bit of an Oedipal twist, he develops a relationship with a surrogate mother of sorts that reminds the youth, now so far removed from his past that he can't even speak his first language, where he came from. For the first time of his own volition he makes the choice to search and reach backwards so that he can progress and grow. It hurts. You don't know if he achieves what he's reaching for but the important thing is that he chooses to do it.

Zhangke uses artifacts from his own life, from pop-culture, and of a more universal nature to serve as totems for emotional relationships that bridge the difference timelines. In 1999 Tao is young and bright, greeting each moment with a smile. She rejoices in music and food that bring her joy. Later in 2014 she faces losing everyone that is or has been important to her and these things become tools for holding on to what she's lost. A divorce left her with lots of money and a lost custody battle for her young son, whose father is abandoning all remnants of their culture and taking him to Australia. After panicking, Tao resolves to make the most impact she can on the impressionable and hungry heart of her little boy. She prepares several tokens for him to keep close through taste, touch, sound and feeling, as they will become further away than ever. The keys she gives Dollar are based on the director's own mother doing the same for him. It's possible she may never know the impact they have in his life but they become figuratively the keys to his unlocking his own freedom (see what I did there??) as he comes of age in 2025. These tokens used throughout the film, and especially two key pieces of music and the light-touch score from Yoshihiro Hanno, immediately have the same effect on the viewer each time they are re-introduced to signify a key relationship and emotion whose origin may be otherwise untraceable to the characters.