The Postmodern Life of My Aunt

Year:2006
Director:Ann Hui On-Wah
Cast:Siqin Gaowa, Chow Yun-Fat, Vicki Zhao Wei, Lisa Lu Yan, Guan Wenshou, Wang Ziwen, Shi Ke, Fang Qingzhou
Description:
The
Postmodern Life of My Aunt doesn't possess much
of a plot, but it isn't supposed to. Director Ann
Hui's surprising comedy-drama isn't a driven narrative;
instead, it's an episodic look at an aging single
woman, as she finds her comfortable Shanghai-set life
slowly and inevitably slipping beyond her reach. We
first meet Ye Rutang , the eponymous
aunt of the title, when she picks up her nephew Kuankuan
at the train station. Rutang is loud
and brassy, and probably more than a little annoying
to her embarrassed nephew. Kuankuan's stay with his
aunt introduces both he and the audience to Rutang's
unique existence. She lives alone, disdains her nosy
neighbor Mrs. Shui ,
owns a flock of birds that she sets free in the apartment
daily, and is - above all else - fervently alive.
We may not cotton to Rutang's personality, but she's
a person with a righteous and admirable will.
However, that will soon gets
tested. Kuankuan befriends a disfigured young woman
, and decides to help pay for her surgery
by conning Rutang. He arranges his own kidnapping
and attempts to wring money from his tightfisted aunt,
but the results of his scam are surprising, and even
a little funny. Rutang meets one colorful character
after the next, and each person has a unique and sometimes
questionable story. Rutang hires a new domestic helper
named Jin Yonghua after seeing her bleeding
in a local noodle restaurant and taking pity on her.
However, Yonghua has a complex life; her baby is seriously
ill and has been hospitalized, and Yonghua has creative
methods of making money on the side. Rutang also meets
roguish amateur opera singer Pan Zhichang , who charms
her over lunch and proceeds to scam her for a small
sum of cash. After a later chance meeting, the contrite
Zhichang befriends Rutang, and the two begin an entertaining
and poignant courtship. But Zhichang comes up with
a unique moneymaking scheme - they'll invest in funeral
plots - and invites Rutang to be a part of it. Is
Zhichang really trying to help Rutang, or is this
yet another scam?
Ye Rutang encounters plenty
of conmen in Postmodern Life of My Aunt, among
them acquaintances, family members, trusted individuals,
and possibly even herself. There's entertainment value
in watching each character display their inner ugliness,
but all the conning also reveals China's rapidly changing
values. Throughout the film, Ye Rutang is portrayed
as a righteous and dignified woman, who will call
the cops to bust a street vendor for littering, but
will also stand up for family members who've committed
minor crimes. Her principles are admirable, but she's
apparently a bit of a relic. She clings to older,
more innocent values, while the people around her
have become impersonal, sometimes sacrificing others
just to make an extra buck. Still, the filmmakers
compassionately reveal the characters' humanity in
the process. People are dishonest and greedy, but
they're also human and identifiable, and none of them
can truly be classified as "bad people".
Postmodern Life of My
Aunt is seen largely from Ye Rutang's point of
view. She may suspect that some of her trusted friends
are using her, but the truth is not always known.
However, the feeling of possible betrayal - along
with its accompanying loneliness and despair - is
enough to affect her. Siqin Gaowa turns in a fine
performance as Rutang, giving her a strong, memorable
personality that's colorful without being a caricature.
She also gives a measured physical performance; Ye
Rutang is animated and lively at first, but as the
film progresses, her expressions and posture grow
weakened and weary. The weight of the world seems
to be falling upon Rutang, and as she goes, so does
the film. At first, Postmodern Life of My Aunt
sometimes resembles a fantasy, with bright, eye-catching
colors and a score by Joe Hisaishi that evokes wonder and life. Ann Hui's
Shanghai is simultaneously deglamorized and also idealized.
We don't see the gleaming, tourist-friendly Shanghai
here, but Ye Rutang's local haunts are given generous,
affectionate focus. To Ye Rutang, Shanghai is home,
the place where she feels most comfortable and desperately
wants to be. Initially, it seems Rutang's vision of
Shanghai is true; it does seem like a wonderful place
to be, and the art direction and score make it seem
as attractive to us as it does to her.
All that changes, however,
as the film progresses. Rutang's life takes a turn
for the worse, and the film eventually changes locales,
from lively Shanghai to stark, dusty Manchuria. Ann
Hui reveals in her typically opaque, sure-handed style,
letting the audience observe instead of feeding them
meaning. Ye Rutang initially withstands the difficulties
she faces, but eventually it all gets to her, turning
the film from an ironic comedy-drama into a melodramatic
downer that may turn off the people who decided to
plunk down their cash to see the movie in the first
place. Marketing for Postmodern Life of My Aunt
is a bit puzzling; the posters for the film are either
bright and lively or disingenuously zany, and seem
to promise a witty comedy of manners. The film defies
expectation, however, becoming more and more unfulfilling
as it progresses. Characters grow from charming to
suspect to sometimes unlikeable and even bothersome.
It's a tough journey for any filmgoer, and Hui's hands-off
touch doesn't make it easy to get involved with the
characters. When Vicki Zhao shows up as Ye Rutang's
estranged daughter, the film has already begun a downward
spiral of unhappy emotions. The common reaction may
be to ask what it all means.
Well, it clearly means something - in fact, that meaning can probably be gleamed only
forty-five minutes into the film. Once Rutang has
met her second conman, a pattern seems to emerge:
she meets a person, gets taken in, gets screwed over,
and her existence seems to dim a little bit each time.
Ultimately, nothing about life seems as nice as it
does in reflection, a thought that makes Rutang's
destiny bittersweet - though the scale certainly
tips more towards bitter than sweet. Even the film's
key revelation, which partially explicates one character's
need for rose-colored glasses, just piles on the gloom.
The only hope seems to lie with Kuankuan, whose maturation
still promises hope, though one wonders if his life
won't become as desperate as Rutang's. Ann Hui may
be revealing some truths with her pessimism, but there's
little to celebrate in the revelation. Ultimately,
it all just feels depressing.
Is that really a reason to
knock Postmodern Life of My Aunt? That its
happy colors may fool the unsuspecting customer? Possibly.
Expectations play a large part in how one views a
film, and if a person can't get what they expect then
it's understandable if they're a little nonplused.
Postmodern Life of My Aunt simply may not be
meant for an audience with expectations, as viewing
the film as a narrative can lead to disappointment.
There's no real arc and no real ending. All we get
is a slow realization that life, for all intents and
purposes, is always better in the rearview mirror,
and that sometimes virtue really isn't its own reward.
That's hardly the stuff of feel-good moviegoing, but
there's a humanity and a keen intelligence in Ann
Hui's work that makes the film worthwhile. Despite
the sometimes exaggerated irony, the film radiates
humanity, and life, be it joyous and melancholy, is
easily seen in the characters and their lives they
lead. Hui seems to have brought a great deal of personal
attention to the film, and it shines through in the
affectionate, if not always flattering way in which
she presents her characters. Postmodern Life of
My Aunt may not be an easy film to enjoy, as the
path it leads audiences down is not very friendly.
However, appreciating the film is possible, and even
deserved.