Part of Jia Zhang-ke’s Rapidly Changing Landscapes (Dir. #3)

Jia takes full advantage of the visual and social ironies accompanied by his setting of World Park, a theme park of miniature landmarks that offers anyone who can afford admittance a chance to see Paris, London and New York. The promise of “See the world without ever leaving Beijing” is, for most, not a luxury but a reality of circumstance. The paradox is not lost on Tao (played by Zhao Tao), who works as a dancer at World Park. She dreams of going abroad, and, contrary to what one might expect, the farcical landmarks in the park are no more than daily reminders that she has gone nowhere.

Treading the obligatory path to Beijing, Tao moved to the city in search of the abstract ‘better life.’ Her boyfriend, Taisheng, followed her, working as a security guard at the park and a black-market jack-of-all-trades. Taisheng is less interested in the future and lives in the moment. Tao and Taisheng, along with their various acquaintances, offer a snapshot of shattered dreamers and grounded realists.

One of the most poignant encounters is Tao’s brief but sincere relationship with Anna, a Russian immigrant working at the park. Details are vague about Anna, but we sense her situation from her demeanor. Tao and Anna are unable to understand each other’s language, but they have a natural sympathy towards one another. The same is true when Taisheng meets Qun. They are drawn to one another out of a longing that neither one of them seems to understand. Just like happiness, the connections are fleeting, but the emotions are real. ‘Ships passing in the night’ is something more than a cliché in Jia’s hands.

Communication, or lack thereof, is at the heart of this film. Among the literal divide between languages and dialects, there is also an emotional gap between characters. In most cases, few say what they want, and most don’t want what they say. Tao and Taisheng’s relationship is founded on empty language and raw emotion. They can’t seem to find the words to express their hopes or their disappointments. Taisheng even finds a way to facilitate an argument over something as silly as a photo booth magic carpet ride.

Tao watches her co-worker do anything to get promoted, and knows that this is a road she is unwilling to take. Tao is propositioned to go to Hong Kong (by a sleazy karaoke bar customer played by Wang Xiaoshuai) and turns her back on it. “The World” is permeated with an overwhelming sadness fueled by the characters acceptance of their fate: languishing between possibility and fruition. The animation that unexpectedly bursts into the most personal moments for Tao and Taisheng lifts them (and the audience) from a melancholy reality.

Jia has always been a director who takes his soundtrack very seriously. His previous films have been a literal mash-up of very specific white noise, even lifting a portion of audio from a John Woo film. For “The World,” Jia employs Taiwanese pop star and DJ hipster Lim Giong to compose a more traditional score. (Lim Giong composed music for Hou’s “Goodbye South, Goodbye” and “Millennium Mambo,” and he has worked with Jia on every film since “The World.”) When Giong’s ambient techno beats aren’t thumping, the omnipresent loudspeakers in the park dominate the audio. In more revolutionary times, these speakers would have been filled with communist slogans. In “Xiao Wu,” they preached a condemnation of the criminal element. In “The World,” all announcements are geared towards the theme park’s customers.

“The World” marked a new direction for Jia. It was his first state-approved film, his first film shot in HD, and his first to deviate from the street-wise realism of his previous three features. Although many saw the divisive storyline and cinematic elements as a sell-out to success, “The World” is far from ordinary. The dramatic machinations border on oppressive melodrama, but Jia’s keen eye and Yu Lik-wai’s dreamy camerawork lend magic to a film that may have otherwise been drab and heavy handed. “The World” proved that Jia Zhang-ke was a director willing to experiment instead of repeat old habbits.

“The World” is a microcosm within a microcosm within a microcosm. Jia takes full liberties with symbolism and surrealism. This is never truer than in the equivocal ending: Tao and Taisheng have come to an end; an end to their relationship, an end to their ambitions, and an end to their illusion of happiness. But like a bittersweet Yasujiro Ozu film, every ending affords a new beginning. The open-ended final scene foregoes a literal ending. Like the ethos of the changing world and the aspirations of the people living in it, there is no conclusion.

Last word:

Don’t be fooled by the bold new look of “The World”— Jia continues to explore disconnected lives in a soulless world with a little more flash and a little more pizzazz. “The World” confirms Jia as a master innovator.

And check out...

• Old Hat Film: Xiao Wu (1997) Directed by Jia Zhang-ke

• Old Hat Film: Platform (2002) Directed by Jia Zhang-ke

• Old Hat Film: Unknown Pleasures (2002) Directed by Jia Zhang-ke

• Old Hat Film: Still Life (2008) Directed by Jia Zhang-ke

Review By:
Kathie Smith, Staff Writer

IN REVIEW ONLINE