Monthly Archives: September 2020

  • Monsoon

    Hong Khaou (2019)

    Another Vietnam-revisited drama though it could hardly be more different from Da 5 Bloods.  Kit (Henry Golding) was born in Saigon but left when he was six years old:  he, his elder brother and their parents were among thousands of ‘boat people’ refugees.  The family settled in England, the choice of Kit’s mother because she liked the look of the Queen.  Writer-director Hong Khaou’s second feature, following his admirable Lilting (2014), is inspired by his own experiences.  He was born in Cambodia in 1975, to Chinese-Cambodian parents.  He was only a few months old when his family fled to Vietnam to escape the Khmer Rouge.  Eight years later, they came to the UK as political refugees.  In Monsoon Kit’s mother has recently died and he’s returning with her ashes to Saigon – Ho Chi Minh City as it now officially is – several decades after leaving the place.  His brother will join him soon, bringing with him the remains of their longer-deceased father, and they’ll scatter their parents’ ashes.  ‘It took so much for them to leave,’ says Kit’s childhood friend Lee (David Tran), ‘and now you bring them back’.

    Monsoon is visually more ambitious and arresting than Lilting.  Khaou and his cinematographer Benjamin Kracun do more than construct a convincing picture of Ho Chi Minh City as a self-confident modern metropolis.  Kit returns to Vietnam in search of his past:  the film’s imagery suggests the complications and frustrations of such an undertaking.  The opening sequence is an extended overhead shot of central Saigon, early in the day.  The initially deserted roads gradually fill up with cars and, especially, motor cycles:  the criss-crossing of these, from different camera angles, is a motif throughout.  (The swarming, whining motor bikes look, from a distance, and sound like peculiar insects.)  Shots of buildings, either from Kit’s point of view or showing him as a tiny figure at a window among many other windows, stress his isolation in a big, strange place, though its neon lights at night make it alluring, too.  In the course of the film, Kit makes two or three visits to people he knows or gets to know.  The front doors opening to him, small gaps in rows of closed doors, signify his rare opportunities for connection.

    Khaou suggests the passage of days mainly by his protagonist’s wearing different-coloured T-shirts as he goes about the city’s tourist spots.  When he calls on Lee, who’s also his distant cousin, and his elderly mother, Kit bears gifts – whisky, chocolate, a water filter, shortbread with a picture of the Queen on the tin.  (This is mentioned before the revelation of why Kit’s mother preferred the prospect of England, despite the weather, to America, France or Australia.)   The conversation touches on the circumstances of Kit’s family’s escape from Vietnam and the money lent by his mother to enable Lee’s family to open an electronics shop, which Lee still runs.  We also learn that Kit’s brother is married, with two young sons.  Khaou doesn’t give so much information about the life Kit has left in England, except that he works as an IT animator, but it’s clear enough he didn’t share it with anyone close.  He uses a dating app to meet Lewis (Parker Sawyers), an African-American ex-pat, who has a clothing design business in Saigon.  After drinks, they go back to Kit’s rented apartment; Kit expects this to be a one night stand until he meets Lewis again at a touring art show in the city.  Its lively, articulate organiser, Linh (Molly Harris), sounds American but is actually Vietnamese.  By the time Kit takes a short trip to Hanoi, his parents’ birthplace, the relationship with Lewis has become more serious, though Kit uses the dating app to have sex with another man on his arrival in Hanoi.  He also renews his acquaintance with Linh, whose art show has moved on to her home city, and visits her family.

    As a dramatic piece, Khaou’s new film is also more ambitious than Lilting but less persuasive.  This has something to do with the main character or, at least, the lead actor.  There’s one sequence of heavy rainfall in Monsoon but, as Khaou tells Devika Girish in a Sight & Sound (October 2020) interview, ‘The title’s a kind of red herring … I was very aware that [the film] isn’t going to be set during the monsoon.  It was more a metaphor about the feelings that arise when you go back to your homeland’.  Yet Kit, on his return to Vietnam, is far from inundated with recollections of his years there; as Khaou says later in the S&S interview, ‘There is a very romantic idea that we need to go back to our past and investigate it in order to go forward.  But for a lot of people who don’t have memories of [their past], it is really hard’.  My own memories of early childhood are so fragmentary that Kit’s struggle to remember his years in Vietnam is very credible but this dictates that the actor playing him needs to express and involve us without the assistance of flashbacks to which he can react.

    Only three years ago, Henry Golding was best known on screen as a presenter of the BBC’s Travel Show (there’s an amusing irony to see him playing a visitor to the strange land of the past); then came his starring role in the international hit romcom Crazy Rich Asians (2018).  In his S&S interview, Hong Khaou says that Golding ‘doesn’t come from an acting background, so whenever he hit emotional moments, they were very honest, they weren’t mannered’.  Golding is better in Monsoon than in Crazy Rich Asians but his lack of acting experience isn’t altogether a plus.  He conveys Kit’s prevailing moods without animating his unspoken feelings (something Ben Whishaw did so well as the lead of Lilting).  Golding’s low-key playing, which Khaou may well have encouraged, includes speaking too quietly, sometimes tonelessly.

    Khaou’s increased dramatic ambition comes in the use of supporting characters to represent themes or groups:  Lewis, the American legacy of guilt and trauma from the Vietnam War; Lee, Kit’s contemporaries who didn’t get out of the country; Linh, a younger generation of highly-educated, culturally outward-looking Vietnamese.  This representative role brings with it a fair amount of explanatory dialogue, most effectively managed in the case of Linh.  Using a foreign language to keep a secret was an important element of Lilting and one of Monsoon‘s highlights is the scene in which Kit goes to Linh’s family home and the two of them talk in English, alongside her uncomprehending older relatives, around a stunning abundance of lotus blossoms:  her parents run a business producing and selling lotus tea.  Linh has stayed in Vietnam because of her education.  She’s exasperated by what she sees as the obsolescence of lotus tea (‘only old people drink it’) and the ancient superstitions around its production but her parents have spent so much on her Westernising schooling that Linh feels she can’t leave them to live abroad.

    Lewis ‘started out as Hank, a Caucasian American [but Khaou says] “… it was felt that the … character’s voice – the dominant white American, in terms of the subtext of the war – had been heard before …”’ (Wikipedia).  Monsoon screened at film festivals during 2019 but its commercial release comes several months after that of Da 5 Bloods:  African-American post-Vietnam voices have been heard very recently.  Even without Spike Lee’s film getting in the way, Lewis would be too earnestly laden a conception to be convincing as a character.  He works well, though, as someone who can make Kit happy.  The gradual growth of their feelings for each other, which Khaou shows clearly but never too emphatically, makes the closing stages of Monsoon satisfying.   By now, Kit seems virtually to have abandoned his voyage of retrospective (self-)discovery in favour of the here and now.  His reaction to childhood photos that Lee’s mother has unearthed, at Kit’s request, is remarkably indifferent:  he says he’ll look at them later.  We see him greet his brother and family at the airport but that’s the last we see of them, and there’s no scattering of ashes.  In the film’s finale, Kit and Lewis, in a bar together, climb stairs to the roof of the building and look out from it at the Saigon cityscape.  For Kit, in the company of Lewis, the place no longer feels so strange.

    28 September 2020

  • Eternal Beauty

    Craig Roberts (2019)

    In 2010 Craig Roberts played the lead and Sally Hawkins his mother in Richard Ayoade’s Submarine.  Roberts is now the writer-director and Hawkins the star of Eternal Beauty but I’ll be surprised if this film repeats the deserved success of Submarine.  Hawkins is Jane, fortyish and suffering from paranoid schizophrenia.  On her wedding day, Jane (played as a youngster by Morfydd Clark) was jilted by her fiancé, Johnny; her stunningly unsympathetic mother Vivian (Penelope Wilton) declared she’d never been so embarrassed in her life.  The psychological effect on the bride-to-be was more serious and long-term.  Twenty or so years later, Jane lives alone in what’s presumably a council flat.  She totters about the estate in a haze of medication.  With her light-coloured clothes and white shoes with heels, she might be Miss Havisham’s younger sister.

    Jane has two actual sisters – one nice, one nasty.  The latter is coarsely glam Nicola (Billie Piper), a single mother with a grown-up, unspeaking daughter called Lucy (Rita Bernard-Shaw).  These two are lined up on the sofa, alongside Vivian and her husband Dennis (Robert Pugh), who’s also weirdly reserved, when Jane visits her parents on Christmas Day.  Carrying a pile of presents wrapped in shiny gold paper, she explains that these are from her family, for her.  Fed up of receiving soap and socks, she’s bought what she really wants – including a handbag that cost £250.  When Jane hands her the bill for this, Nicola vehemently tells her where to get off.  Jane then goes for Christmas dinner at the home of her nice sister, Alice (Alice Lowe), who’s estranged from their parents and Nicola.  The celebrations there are nearly as muted.  Alice’s young son Jack (Spencer Deere) is glum because his dog died earlier in the day.  Jane is uneasy with the carrots and asks Alice’s husband Tony (Paul Hilton) what he put on them:  Tony’s reply is coriander though from his tone of voice it might be strychnine.  Soon afterwards, Jane says she has to leave because she doesn’t like coriander.  Alice gives her a lift home and Jane tells her, not for the last time, that Tony is having an extramarital affair.

    These early scenes suggest a world out of joint.  The possibility that it’s the world seen from the heroine’s perspective holds your attention for a while.  People suffering from schizophrenia with paranoia can exhibit disorganised behaviour and speech, as Jane certainly does, and have delusions.  Some of the main people in her life – her mother, Nicola, Tony – are emphatically (entirely) malignant: or is this just how they seem to Jane?  Hers aren’t the only clothes that look stuck in a time warp and the same goes for the décor in her parents’ home.  Is this because time stopped for Jane when Johnny didn’t show up at the church?   (The film’s title apparently refers to a beauty product, featured in a TV commercial at one point, which promises to transform its users ‘from faceless to ageless’.)  Perhaps this is what Craig Roberts means us to think but I gradually lost faith in the idea.  Jane is on screen most of the time but not continuously.  Unless the bits of the film she’s absent from are her imaginings (and Roberts doesn’t make clear they are), there’s no evident difference between the world she perceives and the world that happens without her.

    The vaguely outmoded sets and costumes seem designed just to work up bizarre atmosphere – as if that were naturally appropriate to a story whose protagonist is disturbed.  The longer it goes on, the more Eternal Beauty seems driven by antique clichés of mental illness (on the screen):  that it equates to outlandish appearance and mannerisms; that it derives from one specific trauma; that an abnormal mind is able to perceive reality beyond the ken of the well-adjusted.  Jane’s super-perceptiveness seems to be a mixture of straightforward observation and clairvoyance.  She insists Tony has another woman because she’s seen them together.  When Alice eventually does, too, she has to accept that Jane is right.  (Tony might as well carry a neon sign reading ‘scumbag’ through the film yet his wife is inexplicably unsuspecting.)  Jane’s Christmas present to her nephew Jack was an umbrella; this irritated Alice, who said he wouldn’t need it.  But Jane knew better.  When Alice spots Tony and his bit on the side in his parked car, she leaves her own car and approaches the lovers in pouring rain.  Little Jack gallantly follows with his umbrella.

    Eternal Beauty is described on Wikipedia as a ‘dark comedy’ (yes, another one).  In the early stages, there were a few hopeful titters in NFT2 at Jane’s peculiar behaviour but they soon dried up:  this is a film that manages to be disorienting yet dreary.  It livens up briefly when Jane, in a doctor’s waiting-room, bumps into old acquaintance and failed musician Mike (David Thewlis).  They strike up a friendship and he moves in with her:  Sally Hawkins and David Thewlis give their scenes together an odd-couple spark.  Nicola, in the meantime, has married a much older man (Tony Leader); when he dies (and who can blame him?), she asks Jane if she can move in temporarily, too.  Of course, Nicola soon seduces Mike, which puts an end to Jane’s relationship with him and her short-lived happiness.

    This is Craig Roberts’s second feature.  In his first, Just Jim (2015), which I’ve not seen, he played the lead as well as writing and directing.  Although Roberts’s co-star in Just Jim was Emile Hirsch, he’s got together a higher-powered cast for Eternal Beauty, perhaps as a result of involving Sally Hawkins in the project at an early stage of development.  (According to Wikipedia, Hawkins signed up just as The Shape of Water started winning awards.)   It’s a pity that Roberts condemns good people like Penelope Wilton and Billie Piper to one-dimensional roles.  He also places an unreasonably heavy burden on Hawkins to carry the film.  She plays Jane with empathetic and characteristic finesse but the one-woman-show nature of Eternal Beauty eventually overtaxes her eccentric charm.

    Another trope of the mental-illness-drama tradition is the curative light-bulb moment.  Roberts deploys this, too.  Jane imagines talking on the phone to Johnny (voiced by Robert Aramayo), telling him she loves him, hearing him say he loves her, realising he’ll let her down again.  She takes a pair of scissors to the telephone wire.  Early on, she’s struck by a painting hanging in her doctor’s surgery.  It shows a figure in white on a beach; when Jane speaks wistfully about the painting, the doctor (Boyd Clack) burbles something about her becoming the figure in it as her condition improves.  In the closing stages of Eternal Beauty, the painting appears all over the place, including Vivian’s bedroom, above her deathbed.  In its final appearance in the doctor’s surgery, the figure is wearing a costume of a different, darker (no longer bridal?) colour.

    Although Roberts stops short of restoring Jane to pre-wedding day health, her decisive action with the phone wire is the cue for him to start wrapping things up.  In a conversation between them near the end, Alice says it’s hard work being normal (though Alice Lowe’s likeable, refreshing normality is, for the audience, anything but) while Jane admits she enjoys the ‘power’ of being the way she is.  You could easily miss that last remark, probably the most interesting in the script.  Potentially interesting, that is:  its implications haven’t been explored.  According to Sight & Sound (October 2020), Eternal Beauty was inspired by Craig Roberts’s schizophrenic aunt.  Despite that personal connection, her nephew is preoccupied here with using psychological disturbance as a means to the end of stylish strangeness.

    21 September 2020

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