Lust. Caution.

Lust, Caution.

Lust….Caution.

The English name of Ang Lee’s latest film consists of two words. Taken separately, they stand alone as two individual concepts: Lust, a primal, human urge; and Caution, an evolved, societal tool. Put them side by side, and you see a comparison: the primal versus the evolved, individual versus society, incongruent.

Poke a little hole in the membrane that seperates the two, and we begin to see a contrast. Lust, the human emotion, surges in the face of caution. Caution stares right back, coolly, unflinching.

Make that membrane even more porous…and the two start to bleed into one another. Can you see it? The red, thick goo of lust languishedly start to expand ever so relentlessly…and the pale, milky fog of caution determinately surrounds the lust, permeating through space, suspending, until the red is only visible as a faint, blushing pink through the suffocating, white curtain.

Ever since I saw Ang Lee’s “Lust, Caution” (2007), I have not been able to stop thinking about these two words. They were not chosen at random, I know. Lee is a master at quietly evoking powerful emotions. To me, his directorial style is a gentle cross between Wong Kar-Wai and Clint Eastwood, combining Wong’s taste for moody, lush cinematography with Eastwood’s strong, silent characterizations. All three innately understand the power of the unsaid. All three evocate instead of telling. And that is why they move me like no other. Lee, in particular, is a provocative blend of eastern sentimentalities and western sensibilities. Perhaps that is due to his upbringing, born in TaiWan and educated in both his native land and America, he strucks me as a director with a precise feel for what he wants. The title of his first film, “Sense and Sensibility,” seems oddly appropriate.

“Lust, Caution” opens in ShangHai, China in 1942. The first shot is that of the face of a german shepherd, and pans up to the face of a man. Observe this quiet link between man and beast. It is an important theme that is revertebrated throughout the rest of the film.

We float up the stairs of a house, following the trail of indistinctable, womanly chatter, through a darkened corridor, and into a richly decorated room where a MaJong table sit in its midst, surrounded by four Chinese women at its sides.  The air is sweet with scent of extravagance. Expertly-cut cheongsams glide over their well-preserved figures, the lush fabrics intimately outlining the curves of its adorner, its silky weight titallatingly speak of the pearly flesh that lies beneath. The upper class women giggle and laugh while their immaculately manicured hands float across the tabletop like marble scrulptures that come to life, precisely picking up, sorting, stacking, and throwing down MaJong pieces with a well-oiled ease, the gold and gems of rings and bracelets cut through the air in a blur, occassionally catch the light and reflect off a glint that is too bright to the eye.  It’s 1940s in Japanese-occupied ShangHai, and everything seems possible and uncertain. Outside, the alleyways are dark.

This is described as an espionage thriller. It is so much more than that. Lee says that it’s filmed in the tradition of film noir. I believe that. It is also a love story, one of distrust, patrioism, self-preservation, of lust, and of caution.

The break-out star here is Wei Tang. This is her first film role, but you wouldn’t be able to tell. The story starts four years before that fateful MaJong game, in Hong Kong. The Japanese is closing in, and patrioism boils amongst young blood. Wong Chia Chi (Wei Tang), a first year university student, falls in with a group of eager fellow theatre students, and they come up with a plot to assassinate Mr. Yee (Tony Leung), a high level Chinese official working for the Japanese, a traitor to the country they love. The gang  has no experience in anything of this sort, but their naivete is all the courage they need. The plan evolves in unexpected fashion when Mr. Yee and Mrs. Mak, Wong’s cover, meet. He takes an immediate interest in her. She is a natural actor and responds in kind, believing this is the “in” they needed. Once the spark is lit, there is no turning back. Unbeknownst to them, the fate of these six young people were forever sealed in the first look that passed between Mr. Yee and Mrs. Mak.

The plan is interrupted prematurely when Mr. Yee moves to ShangHai. Four years later, everyone find themselves in the same city again, and as fate would have it, in the same predictment. The naivete has long been stripped away by this point. The Japanese ruled the city. Death and poverty litter the streets of ShangHai, while the rich and powerful live in bored extravagance. That’s always the way it is. That was the way it was.

What follows, is the living-out of the fate of Mr. Yee and Mrs. Mak. They are from different worlds: a high official that lives in layers of secrets and security and a poor young woman with nothing to live for. But he is a man that many people wants to kill, and she is a woman that is hired precisely by those people to kill him. He is a traitor to his country. She is a patriot, or at least, she thinks she is. For all those reasons above, the two people most unlikely to meet, meet once again, and they rekindle the flame that was snuffed out four years ago.

What ensues you can imagine. The sex is explicit, and the film has gotten more attention for its NC-17 rating than its story. This is wrong. The sex is not unnecessary. It is the ultimate portrayal of intimacy between Yee and Mak…not only physical, but emotional. These are two of the most fear-filled, confused, and desperate individuals that existed. Yee can have anything he wants, but he is so scared of death, so consumed with the preservation of his mortality, that he can hardly find pleasure in all that is so readily available to him. His wife, his wealth, his job, his secrets, he goes through them with an air of stoic endurance. He endures them because he must in order to live, and he has accepted that…until he meets her.

Mrs. Mak is a cover, but for Wong, it is an escape from her life in reality. We hear little about her father, but we sense that she has been abandoned. She floats through life with a ghostly hopelessness. She insists on going to school just to feel some kind of purpose, even though all that is taught is Japanese, language of the oppressors that have sucked out all the hope in her life. She keeps on going to movies and cries in the dark, but even films are interrupted by war announcements. Escape is so hard to come by in those times…so when an opportunity presented itself, she seized it, and she met him.

Their relationship quickly ended up in bed, and that is where it stayed, most of the time. I suspect that is the only place where they both feel safe…stripped of clothes, naked, all that is visible is their lust for each other. Within the lust caution is exerted. They look at each other intently while their bodies engage, trying to find any trace of deceit and secrecy. They physically exhaust each other, fighting for climax, for weakness. This is a battle of the will, and the tangle of limbs are merely soldiers of war.

“I hate you.” She says. “I believe you.” He grabs her. “I haven’t believed anyone in a long time…but I believe you.” He shakes her with force. “Say it again.”

The problem with humans is that we are emotional creatures. Emotions are like floods…you open a small break in the barrier, and before you know it it all comes crashing down.

“You shouldn’t be so beautiful.” He wraps his arm around her in an iron vice, as if trying to squeeze out his desire of her, furious with his loss of focus while she waited outside.

“He knows better than anyone the extent of pretending.” She gasped, when asked by superiors to stay in the role longer. “He not only invades my body…but my heart. Only if I faithfully stay in this role can I burrow into his heart.” She breathes harder. “He makes me bleed and cry every time, only then will he be satisfied, only then will he feel alive in the dark. Only he knows that it is real.”

This is a losing game from the start. They both tried to conquer each other while deceiving each other. Lust was their weapon of choice, and caution was their armour. But even the most intimate act cannot strip away all that armour. Or maybe it did, eventually. They started to injure each other, inside. The seed of lust grew and grew, and started to chip away at the armour of caution from the inside out, and they were both helpless against it. The ending was inevitable. It could not have ended any other way. Watch the last shot of her, observe the flashback to those innocent days, and weight the consequence of that one, simple choice she didn’t even know she made.

Tony Leung has been my favorite actor for a long time, ever since I saw him in “In the Mood for Love.” I can’t explain why he is except, well, that he is my kind of person. There are many, many great actors that I admire: Edward Norton, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Benecio Del Toro, the list goes on. But no one does melancholy like Tony Leung. No one does a longing look like Tony Leung. And no one…and I mean no one, can make me feel myself breaking away into a million pieces, by simply walking away, into the shadows.

The film opened with a shot of a beast and a man. It closed with a view of just the man, Him. Observe him sitting in the darkness that he is so afraid of, then emerging towards the light, and walks into it. But even then he was never completely in the dark. He kept the light on himself, partially, as if afraid of fading into oblivion completely. And when he stands up and leaves the bed that he once shared with possibly the most real love of his life, his shadow lingers until the very last frame. He never really left the dark either. The beast in him is alone now, again, and how long will it be before it rips him to shreds?

Lust, Caution. Translated literally into Chinese, it becomes “色,戒” (Se, Jie), the official Chinese title of the film. Translating each character literally in the other direction, you get “Color, Ban.” The ban of color results in a void, filled only with shades of black and white. It is a simple state, non-emotional, ordered, but it is not real. We live our lives in color and chaos. Humanity is color. The emotions that mark our identity are colored, and are evoked through color. How ironic is it, that the caution against lust, one of the most powerful and colorful human emotions of all, is also synonymous with its complete removal. It is not a caution, then, but a complete wipe out of one’s humanity.

The line between lust and caution is a foggy one. Tread carefully… as once blurred, one may wipe the other out entirely.

“Even the favorite reviews, the audience response is the movie is too slow, deliberately slow. But for the Chinese audience, the biggest complaint is it happens too quick. I think the historical background that build into our genes is different. American people has never been occupied. The deep sadness and sentimentality, the cultural background that relates to melodrama that we relate to and grow up with, the propaganda, I didn’t imagine the difference is so big. It’s a very interesting cultural phenomenon.” – Ang Lee

Die viermal jährlich erscheinende Publikation „Ostragehege – Zeitschrift für Literatur und Kunst“ ist eine feste Größe in der deutschsprachigen Literaturlandschaft. Autoren von Rang veröffentlichen seit 15 Jahren hier ihre Texte. Neben Prosa und Lyrik finden sich in jeder Ausgabe Übersetzungen und Nachdichtungen.

Im Jubiläumsheft, das am Mittwoch, 19 Uhr im Museumscafé des Stadtmuseums Dresden im Landhaus präsentiert wird, findet sich insbesondere Poesie chinesischsprachiger Autoren aus Taiwan. Die Literaturagentin, Autorin und Übersetzerin Wei Tang aus Taipeh, die seit mehr als 30 Jahren Bücher aus dem Deutschen ins Chinesische übersetzt, und der Dresdner Lyriker Volker Sielaff  stellen anlässlich des „Ostragehege“-Jubiläums allerlei poetische Texte aus Taiwan vor. Es ist nicht zuletzt der Unterschied der beiden Schriftsysteme, des Chinesischen und des Lateinischen, der für Sielaff den besonderen Reiz dieser literarischen Begegnung ausmacht.

Außerdem lesen Dieter Krause und Marek Sniecinski eigene Lyrik. / Sächsische Zeitung

„Ostragehege“-Jubiläum
21. Oktober, 19 Uhr, Stadtmuseum, Dresden
Eintritt frei

Von Volker Sielaff

(Aus dem Vorwort des von ihm herausgebenen Bandes “Der Humor der Wolken – Moderne Poesie aus Taiwan”)

Der Herausgeber schreibt dazu:

im Auftrag der TAIPEH BOOK FAIR FOUNDATION habe ich die Lyrikanthologie „Der Humor der Wolken – Moderne Poesie aus Taiwan“ herausgegeben. Wie der Untertitel schon sagt, soll das Büchlein – vor allem den deutschen Leser – mit der Poesie Taiwans bekanntmachen. Die meisten Übersetzungen fertigten Sinologen an, einige Gedichte habe ich, mit Hilfe von Tang Wei … selbst nachgedichtet.

Die Sammlung wurde für den Auftritt Taiwans auf der Frankfurter Buchmesse zusammengestellt, aber Tang Wei aus Taipeh und ich werden das Buch auch in Dresden vorstellen: am 21. Oktober, 19 Uhr im Stadtmuseum, Wilsdruffer Straße 2 und auf Einladung der Zeitschrift „Ostragehege“ (die zudem an diesem Abend ihr 15jähriges Bestehen feiern wird).

Alles begann mit einem Gedicht. Oder sollte ich besser sagen: einem Geschenk? Denn das Gedicht wurde mir von Wei Tang überreicht, nachdem ich, als Gast einer internationalen Übersetzer-Werkstatt, aus meinem Buch „Postkarte für Nofretete“ vorgelesen hatte. Für sie, die bereits mehr als 30  Bücher aus dem Deutschen ins Chinesische übersetzt hatte, stellte jenes Gedicht den ersten Versuch einer Übertragung aus dem Chinesischen in die für sie gar nicht mehr so fremde deutsche Sprache dar. Der Titel des Gedichtes gefiel mir. Es ging eine fast sommerliche Ruhe von ihm aus: „Glück nur zwischen einer Kanne Apfeltee-Zeit“.

Mir sagte besonders das Wort „Apfeltee-Zeit“ zu, von dem ein gewisser Zauber auszugehen schien. Die „Apfeltee-Zeit“, das mußten wohl jene kostbaren Minuten oder Stunden sein, in denen wir, auch nach der Vertreibung Adams und Evas aus dem Paradies, „auf den Kissen die die Zeit anhalten“ einfach glücklich sind. Ich las das Gedicht, während mein Zug schon ins Elbtal einfuhr. Zur Linken waren durch das Zugfenster die ersten Weinberge zu sehen. Ich las und korrigierte eine Zeile und noch eine, ersetzte ein Wort durch ein anderes, das mir treffender erschien. Doch dann machte ich einen fatalen Fehler. Ich glaubte, mich von meinem Lieblingswort trennen zu können, weil mir schien, daß es  dem Gedicht nichts hinzufügte, was dieses nicht ohnehin schon in sich trug. Ich schickte meine bearbeitete Fassung nach Taipeh, zu Wei Tang. Die las sie, fand sie schön, legte aber umgehend Einspruch ein: das Wort „Apfeltee-Zeit“ könne man unter keinen Umständen durch das Wort „Apfeltee“ ersetzen. Ich verstand ihren Einwand und nahm mir das betreffende Gedicht noch einmal vor. Jetzt stand da wieder „Apfeltee-Zeit“, und nur in der letzten Zeile liess ich „Apfeltee“ stehen, weil ich den Schluss in dieser Form intensiver und stärker fand.

In der darauffolgenden Zeit schickte mir Wei Tang weitere Übersetzungen chinesischsprachiger Gedichte. Eine kleine Auswahl daraus findet sich in diesem Buch, andere sind bereits in der Literatur- und Kunstzeitschrift „Ostragehege“ erschienen.

Als Wei Tang und ich uns zwei Jahre später in Berlin wiedersahen, zeigte sie mir „Pink Noise“, das transparente Buch der Dichterin Hsia Yü. „Wie ein Eisblock im Aquarium“, sagte Wei. Die Seiten dieses 2007 erschienenen Werkes sind aus durchsichtigem Kunststoff, die Texte in chinesischer und englischer Version überlagern einander. Man muß, will man die Gedichte dieses Bandes lesen, ein weißes Blatt dazwischenschieben. Mir scheint das weiße Blatt eine schöne Metapher für die Übersetzung von Poesie und für das Dichten im allgemeinen zu sein. Beginnt doch damit jeder geschriebene Text. Mit dem weißen Blatt, das unsere Gedanken und Bilder aufnimmt. Als Ideogramme, wo ein Zeichen für einen Begriff steht, wie im Chinesischen. Oder als Buchstaben, wo ein Zeichen für einen Laut steht, wie im Deutschen. (…)

Ich bin beim Übersetzen auf Interlinearversionen angewiesen. Auf der anderen Seite gibt mir das die Freiheit, mich in das Gedicht einzufühlen und einzulesen. Was ist eine Übersetzung? Wie viel oder wie wenig hat sie noch mit dem Original zu tun? Es geht, soviel ist sicher, immer um Annäherung. Man kommt, als Übersetzer bzw. Nachdichter dem Original mehr oder weniger nahe. Man erreicht es nie. Vielleicht handelt mein Gedicht „Nähe des Falters“ auch vom Übersetzen, von der Schwebe zwischen den Dingen und den Worten:

„Du hast sie noch nicht erreicht.
Schon bist du einmal getroffen
Vom letzten Flügelschlag.“

Dank Internet und E-Mail wechselten die verschiedenen Fassungen schnell zwischen Wei Tang und mir hin und her. Doch unversehens fanden wir uns darin (Verszeile für Verszeile, während zwar nicht der Apfeltee, doch aber der Grüne Tee auf dem Tisch im Garten des Literaturhauses in der Fasanenstraße dampfte), Entsprechungen in der deutschen Sprache zu suchen. Entsprechungen in Wörtern, Strukturen, Rhytmen. Vielleicht sind das ganz neue Gedichte geworden, Adaptionen ihrer Originale? Vielleicht kommen sie ihren Originalen und dem, was die taiwanesischen Dichter ausdrücken wollten, nahe. Wichtig ist: ein Austausch findet statt. Die Poesie ist in Bewegung.

„Beim Schälen der Birne um Mitternacht“ ist der Titel eines Gedichtes von Luo Fu, des „primus inter pares“ der modernen taiwanesischen Poesie, das wir in Berlin zusammen übersetzten. Andere Gedichte, etwa „Mond im Fluss“ von Zhou Mengdie, der wie viele junge Poeten erst 1947 als Studentensoldat vom Festland nach Taiwan übersiedelte und dort der einflussreichen Lyrikergruppe „Blauer Stern“ beitrat, wurden von Martin Winter übersetzt. Zhou Mengdies Poesie ist stark von der klassischen chinesischen Philosophie und dem Buddhismus beeinflusst, es wird kein Zufall sein, daß der Mond in seinem Gedicht sich ausgerechnet im Ganges spiegelt. Ich denke, dieser Dichter hat eine tiefe Beziehung zum Fliessenden, zum Wasser und zur Fähre, die sich, ein „dreieckiger Traum“, darauf bewegt. Das Fliessen ereignet sich im Verborgenen, wird kaum bemerkt. Auch das Blut fliesst in uns, aber wir merken es kaum. (…)

Den 1928 geborenen Luo Fu kann man als eine Art Vorläufer der sogenannten „obskuren Lyriker“ Taiwans begreifen. Ich habe von ihm zwei Zeilen gelesen,

die man auch poetologisch verstehen kann: „Trinken und Dichten / Geschehen meist ganz spontan“. Wahrscheinlich ist es nicht ganz so einfach, denn gerade Luo Fu`s Gedichte sind sehr genau gearbeitet, voller Anspielungen und Zeichen. Aber für den Dichter ist Spontanität wichtig, die erste Assoziation, die erste Zeile oder der erste Strich, wie bei Cy Twombly.

Interessant finde ich die engen Verbindungen mancher taiwanesischen Lyriker zur westlichen Literatur. Nicht wenige von ihnen haben in den USA studiert und an dortigen Universitäten Lehraufträge angenommen. Das ist etwa der Fall bei Zheng Chouyu, einem „Modernisten“, dessen lakonischen Ton man aus der westlichen Dichtung zu kennen glaubt.

Luo Fu

Beim Schälen der Birne um Mitternacht

Frierend und durstig
sehe ich mit ruhigem Blick
auf dem Teetisch um Mitternacht
eine koreanische Birne.

Eine meine Hände
schön kühlende
bronzegelb schimmernde
Birne,
die nach dem Schnitt
in ihrer Brust
einen tiefen, tiefen Brunnen
sichtbar werden läßt.

Schockiert
nehme ich
ein Stück der rohen Birne
zwischen Daumen und Zeigefinger.

Unschuldiges Weiß.
Das Messer fällt zu Boden,
ich beuge mich, es aufzuheben.

Ach! Überall dort
meine bronzegelbe Haut.

Ang Lee’s Lust, Caution is supposedly an espionage thriller but that is very much a misnomer.  Mainly because it is only ever intermittently thrilling and it paints the picture of a different movie altogether.  Espionage elements aside, Lee’s film is a mostly lifeless bore of a movie that limps to a conclusion .

Based on the novella by Eileen Chang, adapted into screenplay form by James Schamus and Hui-Ling Wang, Lee’s film sets itself in Hong Kong and Shanghai circa 1938 and 1942 respectively, amidst the Japanese occupation during WWII.  Wei Tang plays a young drama student pulled in by her classmates into a daring assassination plot against a Japanese collaborator (played by Tony Leung).  She picks up a fake identity and ingratiates herself into his life and eventually becomes her mistress.  The film follows our young heroine as she puts herself completely into her role and then begins to fall in love with the man she is supposed to set up for murder.

This film was an incredible disappointment to me as I really enjoy Ang Lee’s work.  The characters are lifeless and dull.  The film is of such a singular simple premise and focus that it becomes a chore to sit through the entire two and half hour run time without any character to feel latched on to.  There are intermittent scenes of suspense and some solid performances that keep certain stretches afloat, but nothing that keeps the viewer involved in the story.

It’s a beautifully composed film that sheds light on a place during World War II that wasn’t completely familiar to me.  It’s a wonderful sense of place that Lee creates here and it’s the film’s defining characteristic that really made it felt somewhat worthwhile.  Unfortunately, the characters are such bores and stretch any kind of reality that it’s hard to sit and watch.

There are aspects of this film that reminded me of the great Alfred Hitchcock film Notorious, most notably the latter half of the movie when Tang is asked to resume her relationship with Leung’s Mr. Yee.  The man asking her to do this is the fiery, attractive classmate that convinced her to go along with the plot in the first place, who as the audience can tell from glances and brief cut-aways, share intimate feelings with each other.  That is where the similarities end, both in narrative and quality.  While Hitchcock built the relationship between the handler and the spy, the film focuses on the spy and her target.  Here the film could have found interesting ways of discovering this relationship and showing the effects on the handler as well, but Lee doesn’t seem to care for this aspect of the story.

In that sense, there is a Hitchcock feel to the building of suspense in certain scenes, but whereas Hitchock would pay things off and build interesting character relationships so well, Lee lets things simmer and eventually die, including audience interest.  The relationships are scarcely given attention to and there is barely any character momentum to lead to character actions that lead to its conclusion.  Lee seems to feel that the explicit, NC-17 sex scenes are enough to show how much in love they have fallen, but there is little follow up.  The characters never feel real and it hurts the central relationships that are supposed to drive the story forward.  The characters are so cold and frigid toward each other that one wonders if this was a purposeful choice by Lee and that, if it was, that he’s gone too far in that direction to give the audience absolutely no feeling towards any of the characters.

The performances are quite good but they are given so little and feel so misused, that it’s hard to find any moments where they are given to shine, with very few exceptions.  The students that originally set out on this assassination plot are given just the barest hints of character development and seem to be brought in towards the end of the film just to show that, yes, they are still around.

The film’s greatest enemy is its pacing which utterly kills any momentum that might have been able to garner any interest.  The last half hour or so, things actually begin to ratchet up but it’s too little that comes far too late.  There is far too little in an otherwise overlong, over-dull, attempt at Hitchockian and romantic intrigue.  The entire endeavor falls flat and its too bad because the story given is quite good.  Within this unruly bore, is a good film waiting to burst out but unfortunately, Lee was unable to bring that sense of emotion and unruly passion that made Brokeback Mountain such an amazing work.

Ang Lee is one of the few directors who can tackle virtually any genre, and with a few exceptions (2003’s The Hulk leaps to mind) come up with something marvellous if not exceptional (Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, 2000,  Brokeback Mountain, 2005).

Lust, Caution is a slow-burning thriller set in WWII Japanese-occupied Shanghai and Hong Kong.

Wong Chia Chi (27 year-old Wei Tang in her film debut) is university freshman, abandoned by her father, and living with relatives. She has no sense of belonging – anywhere or to anyone. She joins a drama group who long to be part of the Chinese resistance and discovers an unknown talent..

When the troup’s plan grows grander, she agrees to take on the role of a lifetime – seducing Mr Yee (Tony Leung), a corrupt government minister responsible for the deaths of hundreds of Chinese resisters. She will lure him away from his heavily armed security, so he can be assassinated.

This means Chia Chi must learn to dress, speak and also perform sexually – the way Yee would expect, not as a virginal university student. Of all the indignities she has to bear, I found this ‘training’ the most painful.

Eventually she succeeds in her mission to seduce Yee, but any sense of control is immediately shattered. Though she never wavers from the purpose of her mission,  her encounters with the cruel and emotionless Mr Yee are the only time Chia Chi truly feels truly alive. She is longing for him as much as she longs to see him dead.

It is simply impossible to do justice to this film in a few hundred words. There is the complexity of Chinese politics in a time of occupation.  Chia Chi’s personal story. And then there is the issue of the thousands of women who’ve performed this wartime ’service’ for their countries who, if considered at all, are more likely to be called whores than heroes.

At 2 hours and 39 minutes, Lust, Caution is long and the first half hour lingers over the manners and habits of the moneyed class. Joan Chen has a small but interesting role as Yee’s wife, caught up in gossip, shopping and mah jhong.

Yet once the story begins to move it is riveting. The breathtakingly frank sex scenes (for which Tang was blackballed by the Beijing film industry) are unforgettable – and are the one caveat I offer before recommending this film. If you are even moderately easily offended, the sex scenes will likely take you out of your comfort zone – as much as they do Tang’s character, which is why they are entirely appropriate.

Also included on the DVD – a making-of documentary with interviews with Ang Lee and the cast, including co-stars Joan Chen and Hong Kong heartthrob, Lee-Hom Wang. A truly miraculous film.

Today I wanted to talk a little about angles and how sometimes, something is perfect depending on how you see it.

From 2007’s Lust, Caution.

The genesis for that was going to be (and is now) me talking about how Ang Lee’s gorgeous and seductive film, Lust, Caution. It’s a beautifully erotic film, and stars Tony Leung, the man who is probably the lead actor in every single Chinese adult film.

Not adult as in porno (despite the evidence to the contrary in these images from Lust, Caution), but adult as in mature and erotic films for adults. Watch a film starring Tony Leung and you’ll see what I mean. And not just that, but you’ll see one of the most still, most restrained and classy actors in cinema anywhere in the world.

Tony Leung and Wei Tang in Lust, Caution.

This is how he describes himself: “I am very restrained, very suppressed, very quiet. I don’t like to talk too much because I don’t know what to do in front of an audience. Actually, I don’t know how to communicate with others because of my background and I am scared.” It’s not surprising to hear him say that since his screen presence is a disarming sense of dangerous confidence mixed with wounded masculinity.

From Wong Kar-Wai’s 2046.

Also, he – Tony Leung Chiu-Wai - apparently is known by the nickname of “Little Tony,” to distinguish himself from “Big Tony,” who is Tony Leung Ka-Fai. For some reason, I always assumed it was Chiu-Wai in The Lover, but it was Ka-Fai.

“Every once in a while a train leaves to a place where lost memories are remembered. But no one has ever returned from 2046.”

“…except me.”

If you haven’t seen Wong Kar-Wai’s In The Mood For Love yet, which is one of the most agonizingly beautiful love stories ever, then I suggest you put down your internet and go find yourself a viewing of it immediately. There is no nudity in the film, no sex scenes, and yet it’s so erotic that you’ll ache from longing. And maybe that longing will be satisfied by it’s sequel (of sorts), 2046.

Wong Kar-Wai is a brilliant director and thanks to his cinematographer, Christopher Doyle, you can literally take any scene from either of those (or any of his films, honestly) and just pluck them right off the screen and hang them on your wall.

Tomorrow or the next day, we’ll talk about the angles (you’ll see what I mean). But tonight is me suggesting that you find yourself In The Mood For Love as soon as possible. Maggie Cheung and Tony Leung in that film are real, beautiful cinema at it’s finest. Go see what I mean.

I just got this from the infamous GGT (Global Gossip Tribune). I am pretty sure he and Gutter are both brothers in some ways.. Either in the current life or past life..

Click here to access more uncensored pics of Wei Tang.

Anyways, Lust Caution is a WW2 thriller directed by Ang Lee. It stars Tony Leung Chiu Wai as well..

Pretty meh? I don’t think so leh.. But I guess nowadays, the super highway to being famous is the ability to shed the shyness away and show a little flesh..

And WTF?? Chinese women don’t believe in shaving their armpits is it? Holy fark!

Wei Tang was set to star in Tian Zhuangzhuang’s big budget period film “The Warrior and the Wolf”, but due to the Chinese media ban she was replaced by actress Maggie Q. After China laid its “unofficial” official ban on Wei Tang, the talented young actresses has packed up her belonging and moved to Hong Kong. She has also just received denizen ship in Hong Kong, allowing her to work legally in Hong Kong.

20 January, 2008

Not very cautious, quite lust, but a bit lost

Ang Lee’s latest movie, Lust, Caution is probably not one of his best, yet it is worth a trip to the cinema. As always with Lee, the movie is beautifully shot, the acting firm and truthful. Yet I expected more.

Probably it is too long and it did not really convince me at the end. The story is simple and sometimes too weak: it is based on a short story about a woman (Wei Tang) who in Shanghai 1942 tries to help the Chinese resistance to kill the head of the police, Mr. Yee (Tony Leung) a collaborationist of the Japanese army that controls China. She gains Yee’s attention and becomes his lover. The relationship between the two is very intense and, rightly, the movie needs time to build up the tension. B

ut something is not really working in the movie, the focus is too much on the lovers, and the other characters are often mere shadows, thin-paper characters. Yet, some scenes are simply beautiful. The sado-masochistic tension in the sexual intercourses between the veteran Tony Leung opposite newcomer Wei Tang are so intense that the spectators feel like they are peeping into the privacy of two weirdly-attracted-by-each-other lovers: a master and a slave. Comparing those scenes with the rest of the movie, one has the impression that Mr. Lee made the movie only to be able to shoot those few scenes between Leung and Wei. It deserves some mention the part of the movie where Ms We, a virgin, has to learn how to make love to be able to become a convincing lover for Leung’s characters. After all she is believed to be the wife of a businessman, therefore expert enough in matter of sex. That part is well done, perfectly acted by Ms Tang, it is a series of almost speechless scenes where she goes from being a virgin to mastering some kind of art of love. Overall this is a good movie, but it is not a masterpiece, it was probably overrated. Yet, the cinema theatre is the right place to watch it, the cinematography and the beauty of the scenes shot by Lee are not made for a TV screen.

Back in May, I posted about the Australian case involving alleged sex trafficking.  Here’s the result from ABC News, Australia:

In 2006 a Melbourne brothel owner, Wei Tang, was convicted of enslaving five Thai women.

She was the first person to be convicted under anti-slavery laws introduced in 1999 and was sentenced to 10 years’ jail.

The Victorian Court of Appeal quashed the convictions and ordered a new trial.

The Commonwealth Director of Public Prosecutions appealed against the quashing to the High Court.

Today, the High Court upheld the slavery convictions of the brothel owner and overturned the orders for a new trial.

The Court held that the Federal Parliament had the power to make laws as part of its obligations under the international slavery convention and found there was enough evidence provided during the trial of Wei Tang to meet the definition of slavery.

Kathleen Maltzahn of Project Respect, says hundreds of women are trafficked to Australia each year and enslaved for prostitution.

“A whole lot of cases that have been banked up waiting for this to go ahead, can proceed with a very clear legal framework,” she said.

“We know what slavery is now. And this will present a great deal of confidence and surety when people are trying to prosecute for this.”

See the report of the decision, The Queen v Tang, here

Thanks to Stephen

Victor Violante at The Canberra Times covered a big-deal trafficking case in Australia the day before yesterday. The court held by a 6-1 majority that Wei Tang, 46, a Melbourne brothel owner, intentionally possessed and used slaves. She paid each of the four Thai women–in Australian on tourist visas–$20,000 each and then held them in debt bondage at her brothel.

The court held that the prosecution did not have to prove Tang knew her treatment of the five women amounted to slavery. It sufficed that she exercised powers consistent with a sense of owning the women in question.

“In particular, a capacity to deal with a complainant as a commodity, an object of sale and purchase, may be a powerful indication that a case falls on one side of the line [between employment and slavery],’” Chief Justice Murray Gleeson said.

“The evidence could be understood as showing that they had been bought and paid for, and that their commodification explained the conditions of control and exploitation under which they were living and working.”

This decision essentially overturns a Victorian Court of Appeal order which set aside a jury’s guilty verdicts on the grounds that the trial judge had failed to address the jury on whether Tang intentionally exercised a power of ownership to enslave the victim.

Tang is the first person in Australia to be convicted by a jury of possessing and using a slave since the federal anti-slavery laws were introduced in 1999. It is because of this case that Australia’s slavery laws were changed in 2004 to recognize debt bondage.

Read the whole article at The Canberra Times…

BAFTA Stars turn on the Glamour for a Sparkling Fashion Performance

Shining Stars…

This year’s BAFTA awards saw more glamour than usual, with many big names turning up for the event. The crowd was most definately dressed to impress. It could have been down to the writer’s strike in America, which saw the Golden Globes scaled down to a one hour press conference, coupled with uncertainty over whether the Oscars would get the go-ahead (though it looks pretty certain now a deal seems to have been struck). Whatever the reason there were some gorgeous gowns. The order du jour seemed to be long and many opted for romantic Grecian-esque dresses. Keira Knightley wore a beautiful tiered Valentino dress which, along with Marion Cotillard’s Grecian inspired Chanel Haute Couture creation, stole the show. Sienna Miller also wowed crowds in a simple yet head-turning black floor sweeping dress by Dior, perfectly offset by her red lips and diamond earrings.

Lust, Caution actress Wei Tang showed she has a great fashion eye by wearing new designer Jason Wu’s black on white floral dress. Jessica Biel went for understated elegance in a Dior gown and pulled it off perfectly. Eva Green, also in Dior, went for simple yet striking and got it so right. However, not everyone was fortunate enough to get it right…

Fallen Stars…

Full marks for trying Tilda Swinton but something about this Dior creation doesn’t work. I’m all for people taking fashion risks but you should wear the clothes, not let them wear you, which is what happened in this case. And a legend you may be Julie Christie but I’m afraid it doesn’t let you off the hook. I’m not sure what possessed a usually well dressed Christie to opt for these trousers but all I know is they didn’t work.

Gemma Douthwaite

Pictures courtesy of Style.com (visit their site for more pictures and BAFTA news!)

To see a larger version of the image simply click.

Just some thoughts on the films I caught during the week…

I am Legend
Better than I had expected- even though I try not to read reviews you cant escape everything.  Smith does an great job early in the film with showing his dementia after having been alone for 2 odd years (giving time for the others to be killed off) and having witnessed losing his family.  A lot of things taken for granted of course but you just have to go with the flow there.  The lack of music adds to the realism of how alone he is…there is only a small bit of music in the flashback scenes.  The CGI is a bit annoying- the shots of the cars look straight out of a video game and the vampires are verging on the cartoonish.  This would have been good enough a few years ago but with the better consoles out there now you can nearly get it on the games.  The movie does go back to Hollywood standards with the arrival of the woman and boy….and the happy ending is just too predictable.  From what I understand the book was more along the lines of him being the aberration and it being the vampires world now- will have to read the book!

Lust, Caution
I have always loved Ang Lee’s work- and this film is a testament that he is a master film-maker.  Sweet, subtle, and sensuous…he manages to get every emotion into this film and gets the most from his actors.  Tony Leung is just excellent and shines compared to his work in 2046 and Infernal Affairs which is no mean feat.  I cannot believe that it is Wei Tang’s first film- she is terrific as the schoolgirl come seductress and I look forward to seeing her in other films shortly!  The supporting cast is great as well and the costumes and the costume and art department put you right in the period.  There are quite a few sex scenes which fit in completely with the story and the characters feelings that are being displayed (I had read some comparisons to Winterbottom’s dreadful 9 Songs and I don’t think there is any comparison at all).  The film is long but I don’t think there is a wasted moment and it’s a definite must see.

Is there a director better able to tackle the epic forces of love and sex with such artistic justice and credibility than Ang Lee? A powerful tale of vindictive love set during Japanese occupied Shanghai. Visually rich – and steamy – with two massive performances from Tony Lueng and Wei Tang – a great start to film 2008.  JJ

Lee’s latest film, in the intriguing setting of Japanese-occupied China, wields powerfully evocative cinematography. Lee’s shots are masterfully constructed, and are not wasted on the superb actors. However, these feats do not detract from the unsatisfying plot, which is unconvincing. Lacking lust for the film, I therefore advise: Caution.  Amana Khan

Se ha ensalzado desde este blog, en más de una ocasión, esa suerte de continuación de Una historia de violencia que viene a ser Promesas del Este como la única película realmente buena de 2007. Servidor esperaba que Deseo, peligro (Lust, caution, 2007) estuviera a la altura; lo que no esperaba era salir del cine deslumbrado y rendido a la soberbia confirmación de que Ang Lee es, a día de hoy, uno de los mejores directores del panorama mundial.

Cierto que hablamos de un señor que venía de conmover con esa cinta arriesgada de amores prohibidos entre cowboys gays en la América profunda y represora que es Brokeback Mountain; de impactar con un revolucionario poema de amor y luchas acrobáticas llamado Tigre y dragón; y de cautivar con un retrato de época, Sentido y sensibilidad, que parecía firmado por un señor nacido en Devonshire y no en Pingtung, Taiwan, por citar algunos ejemplos. Pero hablamos también del responsable de una de las más aburridas aproximaciones al mundo de los superhéroes, con Hulk, y de uno de los más flojos western de última hornada, Cabalga con el diablo (y con la cantante Jewel, vaya por Dios).

Puestos en antecedentes, sorprende muy levemente encontrarse con tanto buen gusto y tan buen saber hacer. Apenas llama la atención (por esperada) la cuidadísima ambientación histórica, que nos planta en la China ocupada por los japoneses en los 40 con la precisión de un cirujano. Y tampoco extraña la magnífica dirección de actores, que consigue, por ejemplo, que el “robado” actor fetiche de Wong Kar-Wai, Tony Leung, vaya más allá de su hermetismo habitual para, sin dejar su estilo sobrio, brindar un personaje volcánico, ese señor Yee, esbirro chino de los japoneses que, mientras su aburrida esposa juega al mayong, se dedica a asesinar, torturar e impedir conspiraciones de la Resistencia. Frente a él, la debutante Wei Tang sale airosa, y con creces, de la difícil empresa de mantenerse a la altura de Leung, con el que mantiene un vibrante duelo que incluye, como ya es archi-conocido a estas alturas, tórridas escenas de sexo. Escenas que no son para nada gratuitas y que se ensamblan perfectamente en la trama.

Mantener la tensión narrativa durante dos horas y media está al alcance de muy pocos, y Lee lo consigue, aunque sin traicionar ese modo que tienen los orientales de entender la vida y por extensión el cine: pausado, pero no con la pausa como fin, sino como medio, sin acelerar los acontecimientos, permitiendo que estos fluyan. Construyendo una historia en la que se entreveran el amor y el odio, la pasión y el remordimiento, y finalmente el sacrificio, doble en el caso de Wong Chia Chi, el personaje que encarna Wei Tang, a quien traicionan sus sentimientos por el señor Yee y condenan los que profesa por Kuang, su compañero de Universidad y conspiraciones.

Pocas cosas en el debe de Deseo, peligro. Si acaso, la escasa justificación del flashback que, al poco de comenzar, interrumpe el desarrollo lineal de la trama. Pecata minuta si se considera un conjunto que no ha recibido, sin ir más lejos en los Globos de Oro, el reconocimiento que se merece un trabajo de su categoría.

Un film del 2007, regia di Ang Lee, con Tony Leung Chiu Wai / Joan Chen / Wei Tang / Anupam Kher. Prodotto da Bim Distribuzione (157min)

Drammatico / Guerra / Romantico / Thriller

Shanghai 1942: la giovane e affascinante Wang Hu Ling, una studentessa e aspirante attrice, si unisce alle fila della Resistenza contro i giapponesi. I suoi compagni le affidano l’incarico di avvicinare Mr. Yee, un collaborazionista. Wang si insinua così nella vita dell’uomo e, protetta da una falsa identità, ne diventa l’amante. Giorno dopo giorno rivela ai suoi compagni ogni spostamento dell’uomo, convinta di volerlo vedere morto, ma intanto la passione tra i due divampa…

The moment I stepped out of the theater after watching Ang Lee’s latest film, “Lust, Caution”, I didn’t believe it’d be possible for me to write a post about it. Words seem so powerless when trying to describe such a powerful cinematic experience.

Yet, the essence of this story was so simple, so haunting that I couldn’t let it go without putting something down. After all, that is why I keep a journal, to record things that’s worth recording.

If you, like most other people, have not seen this film (even in NYC there are only 2 theaters that are showing it), please stop reading. This post is solely intended for people who have watched it and is not a review or intro of any sort. If after watching it you are interested in what I have to say, come back and find this post. I’d love to hear what you think of the film and what you think of my point of view.

***** Spoiler *****

***** Spoiler *****

***** Spoiler *****

“Go, Now!”

I couldn’t get that scene out of my mind for two days now. It was so powerfully shot as if the eyes and the face of the girl when she said those words were imprinted in my brain.

The message was simple:

For a woman, love trumps everything;
For a woman, nothing else in this world matters as much.

This was the anti-Casablanca.

A popular Chinese writer once wrote, “为爱而爱，是神；为被爱而爱，是人” (Love because you are loved, human; love because you just do, saint). Wang Jiazhi was human.

Unfortunately, she was also a woman.

The Desperation

Tony Leung was such an excellent choice for this role. His face and body spoke tension throughout the film. In one scene there was a silent, close-up shot of his face. The heaviness, the emptyness, the desperate sadness, you feel all of those in that one shot. A moment that was unbelievably human.

The Patriotism

This is where only a home-grown Chinese could fully understand, and truly feel. The hot-blooded, wartime Chinese students. The nationalism. And how far the patriotism could make them go. No one, not as far as I’ve seen, has ever portrayed this aspect of the Chinese people so masterfully.

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In fact, this entire film, in my humble opinion, is nothing short of a masterpiece. Lots of people have written reviews about it, but for some reason I have not seen many who seem to have truly understood the movie. I dare not say that I have. However, when it is all said and done, Ang Lee has once again made a movie about women.

I can not wait to watch it again.