Zhang Jiarui's [i]The Road[/i] found itself in the right place at the wrong time; 2006 was the same year Lou Ye's [i]Summer Palace[/i] was grabbing all the festival headlines and Zhang found critics generally only had time for one decade-spanning chronicle of China's recent history - needless to say, they voted for the one with all the nudity that the Chinese government tried to ban. [i]Red River[/i] sees Zhang back again, with a smaller, more personal film and increased star power, both of his leads fresh off Dante Lam's 2008 action blockbuster [i]The Beast Stalker[/i] – so are we about to see another mainland Chinese director reach out to a wider audience? Find out after the break.
At first glance, you could be forgiven for assuming [i]Red River[/i] was another identikit sinophile production from some sophomore arthouse darling backed by European funds. It is exquisitely lensed, with shot after shot of swaying treescapes, sweat-soaked, crumbling run-down rural slums and seedy colonial grandeur, not to mention a focus on native ritual and ceremony and even a dash of mild social commentary. Contrary to such expectations this is Zhang Jiarui's fourth feature, after making his name with [i]When Ruo Ma was Seventeen[/i], a small-scale drama about a young girl from China's Hani ethnic minority. [i]Red River[/i] is an obvious continuation of themes Zhang has spent some years honing and refining, with a sixth generation mainland director's interest in the marginalised and the downtrodden, and an eye for portraying 'the other face of China' without descending into platitudes or tourist schmaltz.
Zhang Jingchu plays Tao, a childlike, simple soul working as general dogsbody in her aunt's brothel close to the titular river, situated near China's border with Vietnam. As a child in Vietnam, Tao saw her father killed by a landmine and the shock has left her borderline mentally retarded ever since. Having made it across the border, she manages to track down her aunt Shui (Hong Kong Cat III stalwart Loletta Lee) who grudgingly takes the young woman in.
Complications ensue when Tao catches the attention of two very different men. Washed-up drifter Xia, a hill tribesman himself (long-time character actor and lately rising star Nick Cheung), nurses a broken heart from the sweetheart who ran off several years ago, spending his days eking out a living running a karaoke stand in the town square. When he hears an opportunity in Tao's innocent singing voice to turn his fortunes around, he agrees to take charge of her from Shui on the condition he provide for Tao's upkeep. Predictably, the young woman develops an attachment to her new benefactor – based in no small part on how he just happens to be practically the spitting image of her deceased father – yet what begins as filial devotion shows worrying signs of progressing to something more.
Her second prospective suitor, local gang boss Sha Ba (HK veteran Danny Lee), is not above crippling recalcitrant cronies to enforce discipline in the ranks but seems almost touchingly fixated on Tao, to the point of plying her with gifts and sending his henchmen to arrange to buy her contract from Shui. Does his paternal interest have a darker side? Either way, the two men are clearly going to come into conflict, though how bad things are about to get is anyone's guess.
[i]Red River[/i] is a predictable film for the most part, however. Tao's opening flashback clearly establishes there's very little depth of meaning to be had here. Her father was abruptly blown up in front of her, she's remained a child ever since, now roll opening credits – and every subsequent character arc progresses in similarly broad leaps and bounds. Xia is a lonely drunk mourning his heritage who plays at acting the scoundrel with the local prostitutes, Shui is the stereotypical madam snatching at every offer that comes her way, nursing a wounded heart behind her iron façade... No plot twist ever surprises and beyond the (fairly mild) nudity and sexual content the narrative offers little for the party censors to work themselves into a froth over. Though Zhang penned the original story [i]Red River[/i] is a world away from [i]The Road[/i] and its heartbreaking look at the people whom the Cultural Revolution left behind.
Nonetheless, despite the lack of anything particularly subversive there are no awkward nationalist homilies along the lines of the 'alternative endings' that blighted the mainland edit of the first [i]Infernal Affairs[/i] or Jackie Chan's [i]Rob-B-Hood[/i]. The gorgeous cinematography from Korean DP Jin Yong-Hwan and Sijun Liu's lush Hollywood score go a long way towards establishing suspension of disbelief, and Zhang Jiarui seems determined we should invest ourselves in his peculiar little love triangle. Even without [i]The Road[/i]'s layered subtexts the director's obvious attachment for the material shines through – [i]Red River[/i] is frequently melodramatic, but never saccharine, and only the most cynical viewer could avoid showing some sympathy for Tao's plight, for all she's a familiar archetype. The film might refrain from baiting SARFT, but the ending still manages to surprise, casting the story in a slightly different light than the viewer might initially expect.
The main problem with [i]Red River[/i] is instead how it never really does enough to lift itself beyond 'good' into 'great'. Gorgeous scenery and an atmosphere of wistful could-, would- and should-haves can't distract from the general impression of 'will this do?' that dogs much of the film. Nick Cheung emotes gamely, but lacking the moral ambiguity of his role in [i]Beast Stalker[/i] there's only so much he can manage to convey. Zhang Jingchu is unquestionably an extremely talented actress, but she's shown she can struggle to prevent one-note roles from slipping into cliché and while Tao is a likeable enough creation, all too often Zhang's performance boils down to little more than nervous tics and a wide-eyed stare. While Tao's childlike psyche obviously suggests any physical intimacy between her and Xia would skirt uncomfortably close to incest, it still feels as though her purity(at one point the script notes Tao is still a virgin) is far more a narrative contrivance than any believable character trait. [i]Oasis[/i] this is not – though it must be noted it also steers a long way clear of [i]Forrest Gump[/i] territory, thankfully.
Masterfully shot, compelling, touching and sad, [i]Red River[/i] still lacks that extra something which could have turned an entertaining film into a minor classic. All the directorial flourishes can't shake the overriding impression this isn't really a film-maker at the peak of his talents, and anyone who's already seen [i]The Road[/i] will be well aware Zhang Jiarui and his star are capable of much, much more. Zhang Jingchu managed to drive home [i]The Road[/i]'s final scenes even while labouring under age makeup that bordered on laughable, rounding off a minor masterpiece that held a mirror up to China's recent history yet never resorted to chest-beating polemic or syrupy emotional manipulation. [i]Red River[/i] is more than worth the price of the Chinese DVD, but when a director has already given you quietly devastating, it's hard to settle for anything less.