I would have no idea what to make of 2046 had it not been for its predecessor, In the Mood for Love, a film which casts a large shadow over everything that takes place in 2046. The first movie -- which is really the second in the series that started with Days of Being Wild, though that one is of lesser importance -- tells the story of two neighbors who discover that their spouses are having an affair with each other. They find this out together, and their spouses become the first topic of many conversations. The infidelity that brings them together, however, also keeps them apart, for consummating the love that so clearly exists between the two would also mean that they would be no better than their cheating partners. In the end, they part, but the way Wong Kar-wai concludes the film suggests the possibility of a brighter future.
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| In the Mood for Love |
Fast-forward to 2046. In the film, this is both a year and a heavenly destination where those seeking love go, by train, never to return. Once you give yourself over to that boundless love, to that mysterious, unknown place that is 2046, you can never go back. 2046 is a fantasy, a dream that lives in the mind of Mr.Chow, the protagonist of both this film and In the Mood for Love, a writer living in 1960s Hong Kong who created this magical story world, like so many artists, to confront his demons and obsessions. In his mythology, the only person who has ever returned from 2046 is a character shaped after himself. This character seems to suffer from some physical ailment, but whatever he experienced in 2046, he keeps to himself.
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| 2046 |
Bittersweet, is the word that keeps coming to mind. The sweet, ecstatic love of In the Mood for Love has been replaced by the bitter aftertaste of regret. In 2046, Chow has become a broken shell of a man, incapable of overcoming his past, his one true love. He uses and abuses the women of his life -- ironically the occupants of the neighboring room 2046 of the hotel in which he lives -- whom he desperately wishes would fill the emotional space that Su Li-zhen still dominates, just as they fill the physical space that used to contain her.
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| Zhang Ziyi |
The secret of his love for Su Li-zhen, which sadly could not remain buried, haunts him. From what little I had heard of 2046, I thought Wong would tell another epic love story, spanning years and a healthy running time of film. I was expecting Wong to outdo himself, and to provide me yet another In the Mood for Love. I was disappointed and shocked (I'm still quite stunned, actually), not because 2046 is any less great, but because it was the antithesis of what I had expected. Instead of retelling the greatest love story ever told, Wong went out and made a film about the misery of a man living without love, and the damage that his lovelessness causes not only to himself, but to those around him.
It was a brutally painful experience (quite similar to the shock of watching Before Midnight), particularly since it is the extremely likable and charming Tony Leung playing Mr. Chow once more. Could this cruel being really be the same man who glanced longingly, caressingly across the crowded stairwell at his forbidden love in In the Mood for Love? It broke my heart. For a while, I thought that Chow might transform himself to find some happiness with the elusive gambler Su Li-zhen -- Gong Li, tantalizingly similar to the first Su Li-zhen, who was played by Maggie Cheung -- or perhaps with the impassioned Bai Ling -- the ethereal Zhang Ziyi, playing a woman as world-weary as Chow, yet more willing to open herself up to a true, loving relationship with him.
These beautiful, beautiful women -- has anyone else photographed the fairer sex with such delicacy as Wong Kar-wai? -- practically throw themselves at him. With their patience, grace, and beauty, they offer up salvation from his misery, but not without a cost. In return, they ask for his love and devotion, something Chow thinks himself incapable of giving. I guess "the first cut is the deepest," if Cat Stevens is to be believed, and the cut left by the unfulfilled love of Maggie Cheung's Su Li-zhen never fully healed, leaving Chow scarred for life, or at least for now.
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| Gong Li |
So, instead of throwing himself into love, Chow hides himself in his stories. The fantastic world he creates for himself, as brought to life by Wong and cinematographer Christopher Doyle, truly is something to behold. His future consists solely of ghostlike buildings made from pure light and color, and intersected by ever accelerating bullet trains with no apparent stops or destination. Inside one of these trains, android goddesses, bearing uncanny appearances to the women of Chow’s life, tend to the needs of the worn out hero, the only occupant on the train apart from a mysterious figure that warns him not to fall in love with any of the androids he meets. The minimalistic, hypermodern interiors of the train, intended to symbolize Mr. Chow’s distressed state of mind, convey the most unbearable loneliness.
I'd like to believe that Chow can find love again. It is too painful to see that last shot of him alone in that cab, photographed in black and white, a sad mirror of that unforgettable ride so many years ago when he first experienced true love, and believe that his story ends there. The end of this movie should instantly loop back to that of "In the Mood for Love," in which the secret of a forbidden love is laid to rest, but the possibility of rekindling it is never fully extinguished. Then again, perhaps Mr. Chow has learned an even more valuable lesson than the need to hold on to love once you find it. " ‘Tis better to have loved and lost / Than never to have loved at all.” Maybe the next time he finds love, he will be ready to reciprocate, and then he can have his happy ending.
Verdict- 4/4
2046 (2004) 2h 10min. R.
Random Thoughts
- Alfred Tennyson's "In Memoriam A.H.H" commonly referred to as, " 'Tis better to have loved and lost..." can be found here, in full: http://www.online-literature.com/donne/718/
Wong Kar-wai loves subways. He cherishes their rushing, violent movements and the screeching sound the metal makes as they turn over a city corner. He adores the otherworldly lights cast out by the rectangular, symmetrical windows found on every cart, and the headlights that illuminate everything in front of the train. In the case of My Blueberry Nights, these lights are green and sickly, subtly conveying the cold and unwelcoming winter of New York City. In Happy Together, they are white and lively, marking the endless possibilities of its protagonist’s future. Always, Wong sneaks in shots of subways or trains into his films, like Hitchcock did. Also like Hitchcock, Wong has a flair for romances, and in a crowded city, where his films always take place, subways are the perfect vehicles to bring people together or tear them apart. The potency and singularity of his vision ensures that he will find a way to make room to present the things he loves in a way that will make audiences love them like he does.
One night Elizabeth is mugged in a subway, an incident that sends her running into the nearest cafe. There, she befriends the owner, Jeremy, who by some bizarre coincidence was also mugged that day. Perhaps it’s Wong’s mischievous way of letting audiences know that they were meant to be. They engage in long conversations of romantic longing while eating the juiciest, most vibrant, and exquisite pies ever put on film. This makes up the sweetest portion of the whole film, as Wong establishes a welcoming environment where Elizabeth feels safe. Soon, Jeremy falls in love, and Elizabeth does too, though she’s not fully aware of it yet. She takes a cross-country trip to figure herself out.
First, Elizabeth makes her way into a downtrodden Memphis bar that seeps regret from every corner. The red glow of the neon signs, paired with the warm glow of the southern sun brightly shining from the outside makes the place feel uniquely alive, yet bursting with tension. Elizabeth, calling herself Lizzie, observes a local cop who tells her of his struggle with alcoholism and of his estranged wife. Arnie, the cop, has difficulty letting go of the thing he loves, though not for a lack of trying. His wife, Sue Lynne, abandoned him for another man. It is implied that she became sober after leaving him. He is played by David Straithairn and she by Rachel Weisz, both extremely talented actors who bring unexpected complexity to their roles that make it impossibly hard to set the blame on the shoulders of one party. They are both hurt, and both partly responsible for the deterioration of their marriage. Sue Lynne has a monologue that reveals the depth of her love for a man she appeared to despise. Wong Kar-wai has often been criticized for making pictures devoid of any real content: style for it’s own sake. The early scenes with Sue Lynne are shot through with red lights and filters, making them bold and melodramatic, intensified by Weisz’s over-the-top performance, perhaps going a touch too far. But her monologue, shot in a more quiet and restrained manner, ultimately offers proof that nothing is as simple as it seems. Wong always has something in mind other than the pretty pictures. Lizzie watches and learns, perhaps drawing parallels between Arnie’s devotion to Sue Lynne and her own unhealthy obsession to the boyfriend that hurt her so much that it made her leave New York.
Elizabeth, now Beth, settles down in a small Nevada casino that gives her the opportunity to study the reckless personalities of the crooks and gamblers that frequent it. One in particular catches her eye. Natalie Portman’s Leslie has no regard for the past. She lives in the moment, her only concern being the cash she needs to get her hands on to stake her next poker game. Even while she plays, she’s relentlessly singleminded and refuses to see a larger picture other than the cards that are placed in front of her. Leslie’s style makes her either win or lose big, with no middle ground. She doesn’t seem to care either way, as long as she gets the thrill of instant gratification when she goes all or nothing. Critics have said that Wong’s films existing solely in the present tense, yet his own criticism of Leslie paints a different picture. Wong (and Beth by extension) admires the foolish courage of the lifestyle (which is maybe what critics pick up on), but in the way he develops Leslie’s story he demonstrates an understanding that the past cannot be fully erased or abandoned.
Norah Jones (Elizabeth), exhibiting an almost angelic beauty, quietly witnesses the events of the film. She plays a passive heroine, occasionally offering a kind word of advice or a warm smile. Her primary purpose, though, is to watch and learn. Through her travels, she gains perspective. Jones adequately delivers the required dialogue, as well as several lines of poetic voiceover in the form of letters to Jeremy, but most of the growth in character comes through her expressions. This is her first film, and already she exhibits the careful control that takes many actors years to perfect. With the subtlest of smiles and eye movements, she conveys Elizabeth’s innate empathy and curiosity, her need to evolve and improve herself. Most actresses in her situation would have opted for histrionics, something she tactfully avoids. She’s a pro.
Wong's visual jazz underscores every moment, gesture, and frame of My Blueberry Nights, beautifully enhancing the meandering story of this lost woman wandering through the country. His signature step-printing and bold colors make every image last a little longer and seem a little brighter than usual, leaving deep impressions as they pass: the closeup of Elizabeth’s high heels as she misstep on an uneven New York City sidewalk after being shaken to her core; the first sensual bite of blueberry pie she takes to forget her troubles; the smoke rising from Jeremy's cigarettes, mixing with his cold, foggy breath as he patiently awaits his beloved's return by the side of the street. These perfectly crafted, achingly romantic, images represent an almost perfect distillation of the personal style of Wong Kar-wai, one of the few directors who can make viewers see the world as he sees it. Cinema doesn’t get much better than that.
Verdict- 3.5/4
My Blueberry Nights (2007) 1h 35min. PG-13
