Jia Zhang-Ke
Still Life

STILL LIFE.

Current China is an indecipherable painting. Its feet are simultaneously straddling two different shores: the first is the ancient life of yesteryears composed of farmers and workers, and subjected to the big face of Mao Tze Dong; the other is that of the "new era", modernity under a capitalist guise, rapid construction, and technology. A decidedly unique formula that is progressively granting it great economic importance, albeit at the expense of the social and civil rights of millions of people. In short, the almond-eyed serpent is shedding its skin at a frantic pace, at times, decidedly incomprehensible. And director Jia Zhang-Ke wanted to represent this portion of history in his own way. The film is currently in theaters.

STILL LIFE: still life.

The film is set in the most remote China, in the forgotten village of Fengjie; here come miner Han Sanming and nurse Shen Hong. The first is in search of a woman he hasn’t seen for sixteen years. The second wants to track down her husband who disappeared two years earlier. The landscape that unfolds before them is absolutely surreal: ancient mountains bathed by a great river, on whose banks breathes a gray village-town, made up of old crumbling buildings and new ones under construction. Furthermore (the director references a problematic event that China is experiencing in real-time) a large dam is being constructed in the immediate vicinity, and many houses have been or will soon be submerged. The villagers are trying to live as best as they can, mainly working as demolition workers; thus Han Sanming finds temporary employment and meets other people during work breaks to chat and smoke a cigarette. But all around, time seems to float in silence, and the fusion of the old world (extreme poverty, decay) and the new world (computers, cell phones) creates a strange alchemy, from which emerges a silent atmosphere of suspension. Within it, mute, wander Non-Men: they are precisely the inhabitants of this frightening Asian "favela". The faded white of the sky and the dust of the ruins form the backdrop to the images and barely hinted dialogues of the characters. The times are slowed to the extreme, the camera is fixed, only slightly moving to capture landscapes, objects, movements. The director approaches with a strongly realist approach, yet filtering everything through a surrealist and (allow me the term) "Fellini-esque" lens. Indeed, there are scenes of strong impact and unexpected inventiveness, little masterpieces scattered here and there that I won’t spoil. The essential takeaway is that this is a film made of images, constantly played on the alternating of faded fragments; thus, a film not to see, but to experience. And I want to emphasize that the result is still fresh and pleasant, and the film floats away lightly like a feather, on tiptoes. These days, encounters like this in cinema are veeeery rare, and I absolutely recommend taking advantage of it; after all, for nearly twenty years, Asian cinema has been producing great works, perhaps positioning itself as the best around today.

STILL LIFE: still life.

At the end of the story, Han is ready to leave: he will return to being a miner in his village: the pay was better there, so he bids farewell to his workmates with a toast and one last cigarette together. Things, after all, are like this: a portion of life arrives and soon after, silently, ends; and don't look at me badly when I say this slow-motion group scene reminds me of Van Gogh’s "The Potato Eaters", obviously in oriental style. The surprise is that practically all of Han's workmates offer to go with him, after all, they will earn more money; so they set off with few belongings towards the boat landing.

The choice of these men appears strange: it doesn’t matter where they will go, as long as they find a good pay. Thus, everything seems colorless and dictated solely by schedules and work; the difference with the western world is that here there is everywhere a high level of decay, along with a perception of the world absolutely "partial", measured in terms of small distances and villages, certainly not nations. But it is evident that their choices are necessary for survival, to be made with heads down, and it is absolutely terrible how their soul seems to have vanished away. They are simply zombie-people deciding to go Non-Living elsewhere. As they walk, Han's gaze lingers on a hypnotic scene in the distance: a tightrope walker walking on a wire suspended between two buildings. He’s almost reached the other side, but one last short stretch is missing. Perhaps he would have made it. Han averts his gaze and resumes walking. He doesn’t want to see how it ends. In those days, life almost didn’t exist, but maybe there was still a glimmer of hope. Perhaps they would encounter it again.