SYDNEY CHINESE FILM FESTIVAL: The fortunes of authors who not only adapt, but also direct, their novels have traditionally been mixed. Whether they’re motivated by hubris or not, the films created by writers as diverse as Norman Mailer (Tough Guys Don’t Dance) and Richard Flanagan (The Sound of One Hand Clapping) has rarely struck sparks with viewing audiences. Joining that list, Chinese author Li Fangfang does a solid job adapting and directing her novel Heaven Eternal, Earth Everlasting, although curiously her film’s flaws stem from structural, as opposed to visual, issues. If nothing else, her failings are unexpected.
The movie is the story of Shen Xingchen, a heroine in the mould of the classics: misfortune and complication dog her every step. Spanning the ages of 11 to 27 – taking in the period 1992 through to 2008 – her situation is established in the very first scene, where the child wordlessly watches as her mother exits the family home, gets in a car with another man, and drives off to live abroad. Shen’s father, returning from the market, sees what is transpiring and chases after the vehicle. Running through an intersection he is hit by a delivery van and dies. The mother doesn’t stop.
Fangfang, aided by expatriate American cinematographer Lyle Vincent, shoots these early scenes quietly and without intrusive dialogue. She observes telling changes and the end of accommodations – Shen is barely at her next home, with her wealthy uncle, than her aunt walks out, devastating their son, Chen Mo, and the father’s mistress is installed as his new wife. These sparse scenes, which intermingle personal duress and the sudden social shifts in recent Chinese life, are quietly effective, and you could make a case that there is a feature film in them, as opposed to a mere setting of the story.
Heaven Eternal, Earth Everlasting defines itself once Shen is 16 (played by Lui Dong), and at a leading academy. Alongside fellow teens, the moody Ming Yuan (Huang Ming) and Shen’s rival for his affection, Wen Jia (Yi Na), the story morphs into a glossy soap – Beijing 90210. These children of the upper middle class live comfortably and study at university, content to enjoy the existential ennui gifted to them by parents whose positions have often come at a cost – Ming Yuan’s father has committed suicide in jail, unable to endure a 20 year sentence for smuggling, and the son blames his mother.
This post-Tiananmen life is marked by public moments, from the winning of the Beijing Olympics to the candle-lit vigils following the suicide of Hong Kong superstar Leslie Cheung, but the focus is personal. Jobs are won and lost, the relationship between Shen and Ming soars and dips. The story stokes up circumstances, with the adult Chen Mo (Tao Shuai) offering up Rebel Without a Cause-like dissent, but I’m not sure that these young people stylishly running just to stand still are connected to the watchful children initially introduced. Fangfang implicitly celebrates their personal travails as a sign of privilege. China is ready for chic angst and melodramatic resolutions.
