If you like the domestic dramas of Japanese director, Yasujiro Ozu, you'll love this film about an extended family in Taipei, Taiwan. Like Ozu, the style is almost static, the unmoving camera often far from the action, across the room, outside a window, even across the street. Scenes play out in long takes, sometimes slowly, characters often hanging on in quiet desperation until there is a sudden outburst from one of them. At the center of the story is a middle-aged business man with an absent wife, a teenage daughter, a pint-size son with a camera, and a comatose mother who has suffered a severe stroke. Colleagues at the man's company consider taking on a business partner, a Japanese man given to philosophizing, and on a trip to Tokyo he meets up with an old girlfriend from school days - also married.

At home, his daughter has befriended a neighbor girl and her tentative and puzzling boyfriend, while his young son stalks a young girl who likes to go swimming alone and takes pictures of the backs of people's heads. There are other characters on the periphery with problems of their own - including a brother who waits for a lucky day to marry his pregnant girlfriend. In the end, the lessons learned are that life is what it is and that no matter what choices you make, you'll probably end up feeling exactly the same way. Maybe not too profound, but it's a pleasant 3-hour trip to that destination. Lovely soundtrack. The Criterion edition has an informative interview describing the emergence and flowering of Taiwanese cinema.

OVERVIEW & STORY:

This review is intended to be part critical analysis and part celebratory love letter to a film that's a genuine modern masterpiece of cinema. Writer/Director Edward Yang's Yi Yi is as close to a "perfect" film as I've seen; warm, funny, humane, poignant, beautiful, evocative, and expertly crafted in every sense of the word.

For those who don't know, Edward Yang is a part of the New Wave of Taiwanese Cinema, along with other acclaimed directors like Hou Hsiao-hsien and Tsai Ming-Liang. These directors all share some similarities; One is a consistent use of precise framing and static long takes. This technique might be most famously utilized by legendary Japanese director Yasujiro Ozu. The comparison is even more apt than that as all of these directors applied their technique to subjects dealing with people in changing societies. Their films perfectly capture the zeitgeist and work equally well as social commentary, historical documents, and film-art.

At its simplest, Yi Yi is a portrait of a middle-class family in Taipei dealing with (as one reviewer stated) "romantic, economic and spiritual upheaval." But if the idea itself is simple and mundane, its execution is complex and incredibly rich. To even attempt a plot summary is difficult, though I will try.

The film opens with the marriage of Ah-Di to a pregnant Hsiao-Yen. This is interrupted by Yun-Yun, Ah-Di's ex girlfriend and current business partner. Ah-Di's brother-in-law is NJ, - the central character, if indeed you can apply that title to any here - a loving father and husband caught in a crossroads in his life; at his work when he is coaxed into befriending a possible business partner in Mr. Ota, and personally when he runs into his first love, Sherry, at Ah-Di's wedding. NJ's wife, Min-Min, is caught up in a spiritual crisis when after the wedding an accident sends her mother to the hospital, and eventually home with the family to take care of. This accident is even more distressing to Ting-Ting - NJ's and Men-Men's teenage daughter - who feels the accident is her fault for forgetting to take out the garbage. Ting-Ting becomes quick friends with the neighbor girl, Li-Li, whose family is having problems of their own, and whose boyfriend, Fatty, becomes a source of contention between the two girls. Finally, there's little Yang-Yang, NJ and Men-Men's young son, who provides a great deal of the humor and profundity throughout the film with his imagination and child-like honesty.

REVIEW:

If the above plot synopsis sounds convoluted and unwieldy, then place the blame on my summary instead of Yang's film. If I had to choose one aspect of this film which succeeds above the others it would be Yang's handling and crafting of the narrative which is so adept that the film never makes one feel it's as complex as it actually is. Though the film is constantly shifting between characters and storylines, the transitions appear seamless. Part of this can be attributed to the editing, which is smooth and extremely unobtrusive, and part of it is due to the aesthetic and emotional flow which perfectly connects scenes and characters together like a fine silk.

When looking at the narrative and characters as a whole it's difficult to find any negatives. Yi Yi is one of the greatest films I know of about ordinary people. It's not just the fact that Yang refuses to hype the characters or their reality, but it's the breadth and depth that's given to both in all the superficial simplicity. One review of Ozu's legendary Tokyo Story mentioned that it was "a film that encompasses so much of the viewer's life, that you are convinced that you have been in the presence of someone who you knew very well." and the same could be applied to Yi Yi. By the end, we get to know these characters almost as real people instead of fictional creations. The same could be said of the narrative which, despite the difference in societies and cultures features characters dealing with problems that plague us all; whether it's NJ's frustration with his failing job, or his nostalgic attempt to recapture a piece of his life that faded long ago, or Men-Men's frustration with her dull, repetitive everyday life that compels her to seek out spiritual fulfillment. Even the children are easy to relate to, with Ting-Ting decision of whether or not to sleep with Fatty for the first time, or Yang Yang's ability to capture a piece of childish imagination and innocence lost to us all. If I had to find a single flaw it might be that the Ah-Di, Hsiao-Yen, Yun-Yun storyline isn't as compelling when compared with the others. It's by no means "bad", but its weakness perhaps lies in the fact that they are the least developed characters in the lot.

Beyond the narrative and characters Yang's themes are as rich as anything else in the film. On the simplest level Yi Yi works to reveal the effect of society on modern people and families and vice versa. However, Yang is less insistent on the import of his themes compared to the likes of Hou Hsiao-hsien. If Hou's films actively explore the state of Taiwanese society, then Yi Yi seeks only to observe, but not comment too deeply. It's this lack of force that prevents the criticism of pretentiousness from ever applying to the film.

Yi Yi is also a film of wonderful moments and scenes. One such scene is of Yang-Yang in AV class, watching the girl he's infatuated with as thunder and lightning play on the screen behind her with the apt subject of "two opposing forces coming together". Another is the masterful montage of Ting-Ting's date with Fatty, paralleled by the dialogue and scene of NJ and Sherry's `reunion'. Yet another features NJ and Mr. Ota discussing their love for music. Other moments are so small they might go unnoticed, such as the simple shot of Ting-Ting entering her grandma's bedroom and grasping her hand, or the musical montage of a vision of Tokyo. But I'd be remiss if I didn't mention Yang-Yang's closing monologue. It's a scene so poignant and so perfect that it has instantly become one of my absolute favorites. In a film full of superb scenes it's a testament to Edward Yang's greatness that he was able to close on the most cathartic of all.

The acting is consistently superb. Even though Nien-Jen Wu (NJ) is perhaps the most accomplished, it's hard to find a weak spot in the cast. Issea Ogata (Mr. Ota) steals most every scene he's in with his exuberance. Elaine Jin (Min-Min) has a couple of tough, extended, emotional monologues and without the aid of editing she pulls them off marvelously and believably in a single take. Kelly Lee (Ting-Ting) brings a sense of subdued emotional subtlety that's indicative of skill far beyond her years. Jonathan Chang (Yang-Yang) practically steals the whole film with the straight-forward honesty he brings to the role of Yang-Yang. He's not adorable in the horribly fake, classic "precocious child" manner, but in a way that's much more truthful to the spirit and purity of childhood.

Yang's direction is masterful and quietly understated. He rarely attempts to draw attention to the camera, and it would be easy for the wealth of incredible shots to go unnoticed. One particularly unique technique is Yang's use of reflective surfaces. This has a remarkable effect of expanding the audience's field of vision, so often we're not only able to follow the story, but get a feel for the environment that's such a crucial aspect of any film. Other times it serves as a source of economy, allowing Yang to capture a scene with as little movement as possible. Beyond the mere shots, the editing is phenomenal. Yang expertly utilizes transitional devices to weave the diverging strands of his complex narrative together. One perfect example is the AV room "storm" film with Yang-Yang transitioning to Ting-Ting caught in a real storm. While devices like this may seem banal, it's the fact that they're never pronounced in a pretentious manner that allows them to serve the film and narrative rather than distract from it. One particularly brilliant narrative device is the comatose grandmother, which after being prompted by the doctors to talk to her the family takes turns revealing their innermost secrets and fears to her and the audience as well. Yang also puts a lot of trust in his actors by liberally utilizing long takes, such as NJ and Sherry's hotel meeting. Finally, Yang presents most of the film in a very patient manner. While he doesn't maintain as much narrative perspective distance from events as some of his contemporaries, he does often use a somewhat voyeuristic style that observes but doesn't attempt to actively involve. This often has the effect of capturing the environment which can speak as powerfully about a scene as what's happening in the story. Two obvious examples are Ting-Ting and Fatty's meeting at night near the road, and NJ and Sherry's meeting in the park. Yang's overall visual aesthetic of one of calm, meditative, and patient observance; certainly the opposite aesthetic of the common, modern ADD riddled Hollywood.

One final remarkable accomplishment I'll mention is how despite the near 3 hour runtime it almost feels too short. There are very few lengthy films I know of that have ever pulled of that trick; one is Kurosawa's incomparable The Seven Samurai, and that is indeed fine company to be in. As the credits rolled, I kept thinking how nice it would be to have spent more time in this world with these people. It's not that Yang doesn't provide a resolution; it's merely that the film is such a perfectly crafted world you might not want to leave.

Sadly, Edward Yang died June 29, 2007 from his long bout with colon cancer. He left behind a handful of masterpieces, including this film, A Brighter Summer Day and Mahjong. In closing I'll reiterate what I said in the opening: Yi Yi: A One and a Two is a genuine masterpiece from one of cinema's greatest and most unsung masters. All I can do is give it my highest recommendation and hope that more people discover one of the strongest candidates for best film of the 21st Century. It's one of those films that celebrates life, and will perhaps make you appreciative of the life you live and the people and places in it. Yi Yi has quickly become one of my absolute favorites and I only wish I could heap enough eloquent superlatives on it to reveal the greatness of this truly brilliant film.

DVD REVIEW:

As per usual, the Criterion edition is magnificent. After renting and falling in love with the film in the Fox Lorber edition I immediately bought the Criterion Edition and was stunned by the increase in quality. The visual transfer is pristine and perfect, but it's really the extras that should prompt a fan of the film to pick it up. The audio commentary by Yang and Tony Rayns is insightful and adds even more richness to an already gorgeous tapestry. The rest of the extras are equally welcomed, including Rayns's excellent interview where he discusses the New Wave of Taiwanese Cinema and Yang's importance in the movement as well as the extensive booklet essay.

I will not plow the ground covered by others reviewing the substance of the film. Suffice it to say that Yi Yi is utterly compelling and merits five stars.

BUT -- the Fox Lorber DVD transfer listed for sale here is unwatchable. This is not a video tech geek's mere quibbling over small details. I seriously mean unwatchable. The sound is garbled and distracting, even for those who rely entirely on the subtitles as I do. The image is dark, muddy and often so completely out of focus one cannot make out faces well enough to distinguish one character from another. Colors are garish and strange -- in this version, much of the film seems to have been shot under cold blue buzzing fluorescent light. The rest -- anything shot in subdued lighting -- is a black hole without any visible detail.

I attempted to watch this DVD and gave up after about half an hour of frustration. This transfer never should have seen the light of day.

The Criterion Collection edition of Yi Yi is absolutely luminous and electric -- and a sheer joy to watch. That's the one to buy!

The canvas that this film is painted on is enormous -- depicting a portrait of Taiwan that is both tenderly insightful and emotionally raw, as it's characters struggle to find their place in the world. Of course, with filming on a larger scale comes an extended running time; yet, in this film's case, it's more of a neccessity than an indulgence. (8/10)

*NOTE: A Few minor spoilers!*

Edward Yang's YI YI is, in my opinion, one of the few solid masterpieces of the new millennia.

Yang passed away at the end of June, and his creative presence will be very much missed. Though it's an unfortunate coincidence, one major quality of this film is it's autumnal feel, which unifies an elaborate narrative of Chekhovian richness. Throughout the length of this very captivating film, varied characters engage in backward glances through their lives - which primarily takes the form of self-interrogations of regrets and missed opportunities, and the consequences of ill-informed actions, leading up to a certain resignation and forgiveness. This is perhaps most dramatic in the extremely varied male characters - several of whom (from patriarch N.J., his precocious son Yang-Yang, and his Japanese colleague Ota) are essentially poets or philosophers forced by circumstance into corporate lives they may or may not find entirely satisfying.

YI YI begins with a wedding and ends with a funeral, and it feels like a slice of something much more expansive - this film combines a humanism and character detail evocative of Satyajit Ray with the kind of tightly choreographed sprawl one would associate with Robert Altman or Jean Renoir; a large number of the scenes that Yang constructs pose intricate questions, leading to a gradual upward modulation in emotional intensity towards the end of the film. Yang - wisely I feel - selected several non-actors for major roles here (other filmmakers or writers mostly); it is handled very well here, with a great deal of immediacy, but little or no amateurisness perceptible. Yang has a penchant for incorporating incidental scene material as symbolic elements - shooting through windows and against mirrors, and using reflections to undescore emotional points within, and this is breathtaking at several points (watch for the heartbeat in one extraordinary, mostly non-verbal scene). The combination of such a strong sense of visual improvisation within a rather intricate and literary narrative is unusual and quite powerful.

Through it all N.J. and Yang-Yang stand as the pivotal characters, with Yang-Yang clarifying the emotional center of what the characters in this film fumble towards (and what Edward Yang, with far more virtuosity, also sought to do):

"When I grow up, I want to tell things people don't know, show them stuff they haven't seen."

A great, rich film.

-David Alston