Friday, February 4, 2022

A Little TLC(w): Cyclo (1995)

Well, it’s been over five years, and I’ve now seen every Tony Leung Chiu-wai film I can get my hands on. There are a few that haven’t come out yet, along with a few that I still can’t get a bead on, but otherwise, I’m all but caught up on Leung’s film career. (That doesn’t mean we’re done, though—I think I’ve tracked down a few more of Leung’s old TV series from the ‘80s. If that pans out, I’ll dig into this spring, after a short break for Oscar season.) This was certainly an intriguing film to cap off the movie portion of A Little TLC(w).

A young cyclo driver in Vietnam has done his best to support his family after his father’s death. But when his bicycle-taxi gets stolen, he finds himself indebted to the local crime boss who charged it to him, and he’s forced to do jobs for the gang to keep her off his back and food on his family’s table.

If I were to describe this film in three words, it would be “contemplative,” “artistic,” and “bleak.” It’s slow-moving and thoughtful, with flashes of violence amid existential musings. In a way, it’s probably what a lot of people picture when they think of foreign films. Now, I’m not knocking the film for being contemplative, artistic, and bleak. Not at all—after all, Wong Kar-wai is a big part of the reason A Little TLC(w) even exists. Nothing like a bit of beautifully-shot mournful longing!

I’ll admit, though, Cyclo eludes me just a little bit. There are long stretches where I’m engrossed in what’s happening onscreen, following the mostly-nameless characters’ lives (IMDb credits them merely as Cyclo, Sister, Madam, etc., giving the film an anonymous air.) But sometimes, I’m pulled out by a scene that feels overly-artsy for the pure sake of it, or the meandering nature of the story starts to lose my attention. It’s a film that calls for patience, needs you to put in the effort to follow where it’s taking you.

Other than Leung, I’m not familiar with any of the actors—I don’t have much experience with Vietnamese films—but the performances are understated, naturalistic, and largely effective. Le Van Loc is engaging as the Cyclo, and Nu Yên-Khê Tran brings alternate light and pathos as the Sister.

Leung plays a man who appears to be a lieutenant in the gang, though he’s listed in the credits as Poet. The Poet has an authority that he commands quietly—compared to his noisy lackeys posturing for dominance, he’s still and silent, taking in the scene around him while scarcely making eye contact with anyone. He has his fingers in multiple pies, running point on the Cyclo’s duties for the gang while also recruiting and managing a small collection of sex workers, and by all accounts, he’s good at what he does.

But if any of it matters to him, you’d be hard-pressed to prove it. The Poet carries himself with this extreme sense of apathy. Looking at him, you wonder if he’s depressed, or sick, or just dead to the world. Little seems to touch him, and even the way he smokes a cigarette is so indifferent, it seems he’d hardly notice if it fell right out of his mouth. There’s a mysterious, brooding quality to the Poet, but it’s very different than something like Ashes of Time, where the brooding stillness feels balanced on a knife edge, or War of the Underworld, where the mysteriousness feels too conspicuously mythologized. While he draws my eye, it’s more in fascination of this gaping void that seems to be in him.

It’s hard to fully describe what Leung is doing here. To an extent, his job is mainly just to be handsome, mysterious, and emo in a strangely-muted way, and naturally, he fulfills all that quite handily. But there’s something deeper here in the Poet’s almost anti-energy, the nearly empty way he moves through the world. And then, in these vivid moments of rage or tenderness or futility, he comes utterly alive. The change is subtle—he doesn’t really raise his voice or increase his eye contact, but there are slight shifts in his body language or facial expressions, and suddenly, I feel like I’m really seeing the Poet and not just this blank shroud of apathy he wears. Again, it requires patience and attention, but it’s so interesting to watch.

Recommend?

In General – For people who are into slower-moving arthouse films, yes I would.

Tony Leung Chiu-wai – Yes. I’m not sure how Leung can be so muted and still feel like he’s doing so much. And if you can wait for the way this performances opens up in those intense flashes, it’s really rewarding.

Warnings

Violence (including sexual violence,) sexual content, language, drinking/smoking/drug use, and strong thematic elements.

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