It may start off in Taiwan, but the One Mile Above is well and truly a film set in China. Of course that depends on how you define China. If, as many Mainlanders do, you define China as the (fractured) realm thousands of kilometres spanning from 'renegade province’ Taiwan to mountainous 'liberated territory’ Tibet, the wonderful breadth of China is on full display in this pedal pushing road movie from debuting Chinese director Du Jiayi (who also produced Chen Kaige’s 2008 Forever Enthralled).
Shu-hao’s endurance is tested to the absolute limit
The film begins in Taiwan’s capital, Taipei, as Shu-hao, along with the rest of his family, mourns the death of his cyclist brother. Since Taipei is more of a moped metropolis than a bicycle borough, the cycling novice, Shu-hao, upsets his family and his girlfriend by announcing that he will complete the unfinished road trip that lead to his brother’s death and ride from Lijiang in Hunan province to Tibet’s first city, Lhasa. Setting off, Shu-hao is a complete greenhorn, underprepared, ripe for rip-offs and prone to injury as well as completely intimidated by his first visit to Mainland China.
Along the way, however, Shu-hao is transformed from a soft-skinned, gullible tourist to a seasoned and hardy traveller. No doubt the exquisite scenery he takes in along the Sichuan Highway would encourage a few extreme travellers to duplicate his efforts, but the vistas are breathtaking in more ways than one. As the road to Lhasa takes the Taiwanese adventurer higher and higher above sea level (hence the title One Mile Above), Shu-hao’s endurance is tested to the absolute limit.
Like most road films, One Mile Above has an episodic nature, but its combination of religious pilgrimage, ethnographic exploration and drama are awkward travelling companions. For bike enthusiasts who are tantalised by the possibility of following the central character’s travel itinerary, none of that will matter. Juxtaposed against the clear skies, the panoramic valleys and the imposing snow capped mountains will be more than enough to keep cyclists enthralled; narrative deficiencies will merely fade into the background. Likewise the dull earnestness of the central protagonist as played by Chang Shu-hao; it won’t matter a whit to those audience members who are busy putting themselves in his place. Of the people Shu-hao encounters along the way, Li Xiaochuan’s lively extended cameo as a fellow cyclist is the most vivid and radiates the kind of pleasing energy that the film and its lead character is sorely lacking. Critics and admirers alike, however, will be in agreement about the consistently dazzling images captured by cinematographer Du Jie (Crazy Stone). Similarly, the score by Japanese composer Michiru Oshima is undeniably rousing.
The B-roll which appears alongside the closing credits indicates that the on-location shoot was no picnic. Despite the hardships endured, the film won a Best Artistic Contribution prize at the Tokyo International Film Festival in November, 2011.
