Ein Sommer in Hanoi

A visually-stunning look at the lives of three modern-day Vietnamese sisters and their families, living in Hanoi. The intersection of modernism (in particular, Western) influences alongside tradition is a theme. This does not appear to be a rigid Stalinist society but an austere but comfortable developing one. A sound track which mixes Lou Reed and traditional Vietnamese music accentuates the way tradition and modernity meld in this setting.

And it is the setting which takes your breath away. Even the interiors are visually rich with colors and textures. The film's use of rain, heat, and flowing water all add to the sensuality of the country and the characters.

Unlike some of the other comments seen here, I thought this movie was a real gem. The Director of Photography gets kudos on this one, as every scene was like viewing fine art. Yes, certainly, there were times when the writer/director was asking the audience to put more meaning into a scene than was warranted, but overall the plot was enjoyable and based on true human emotions. The movie also invoked a certain mood of longing, that was aided by weather variations (especially rain) and the overall set design. I'd recommend this movie to anyone with a discernible eye and an appreciation for the attempt/accomplishment at making grand strokes on film. It is eye-candy all the way, and the bevy of beautiful people certainly doesn't detract from that.

I would like to point out that the perfection of this movie lies in the imperfection of its story. To those who have said it just dribbles off at the end with no resolution, I personally think thats why its so brilliant! It is very rare that we get the see a slice of life like this--- one so beautiful, enrapturing, and yet TRUTHFUL. Life doesn't have perfect endings and beginnings. Its great to see that movies don't have to either.

That said, my absolute favorite scene is the one with all three sisters and the sweet potatoes! What's yours?

In Tran Anh Hung's lovely tone poem The Vertical Ray of the Sun, three sisters Lien (Tran Nu Yên-Khê), Suong (Nhu Quynh Nguyen), and Khanh (Le Lhanh) on the eve of memorial dinners for their departed parents reveal previously hidden details to each other about their marital infidelity. It is the end of summer in Hanoi and the atmosphere is languid. These are not the mean streets of Saigon in Tran's Cyclo but the elegant abode of Hanoi's artists and intellectuals, devoid of urban decay, intimately bathed in color and pastoral beauty. The opening scene sets the mood. The youngest sister, 19-year old Lien slowly awakens in the apartment she shares with her brother Hai (Quang Hai Ngo). As Hai does push-ups, lien stretches, her graceful Tai Chi movements beautifully choreographed to the rhythm of The Velvet Underground.

They joke about the fact that outsiders see them as a couple as they walk hand-in-hand through the markets, but Lien does nothing to discourage this perception and is shown crawling into bed with her brother each night. The sisters operate a café and the conversation is as steamy as is the food they are preparing for the annual memorial dinner for their departed mother. Cinematographer Mark Lee Ping-Bin who filmed Flowers of Shanghai and In the Mood for Love washes the scene in a glow of different shades of green as they joke and tell stories about their longing to fry the male anatomy in garlic. The discussion veers to a discussion of their mother's possible infidelity with a fellow student but they are reluctant to admit that their parent's relationship may have been less than ideal.

Gradually we also learn about the sisters' marital problems. Suong is married to Quoc (Chu Hung), a botanical photographer. Since they had a miscarriage four years prior, he has had a secret life with another woman in the remote Bay of Halong. In one meditative scene in a boat with an old fisherman, Quoc sums up the meaning of the film, "One should live where one's soul is in harmony, where it is in accord with its surroundings". When he is away on trips visiting his second family, Suong carries on an affair with Tuan (Le Tuen Anh) out of a need to feel loved and wanted. Khanh's husband is Kien (Tran Manh Cuong), a writer who is working on finishing his first novel.

After finding out that his wife is pregnant, he almost betrays her in a Saigon hotel, but remains faithful. Lien, meanwhile, naive about sexuality, has a boyfriend and thinks she is pregnant simply because she had sex one time. The family deals with these problems together, viewing them as an opportunity for forgiveness and growth rather than confrontation. Vertical Ray of the Sun is a sensual experience that unfolds in its own time, a pace geared to an Asian timetable not a Western one. It is a film of ineffable beauty but can be confusing on first viewing with multiple characters, frequent jump cuts, and time discontinuity.

Individual scenes stand out in memory: Khanh singing a traditional Vietnamese song alone in the garden and Kien's loving discovery of her secret (how gratifying it is to see a romantic scene between married couples); Lien's slow dance in her apartment to The Velvet Underground, her long black hair glistening in the sun; and Lien's playful seduction of Hai interrupted by his request for boiled sweet potatoes. Though concerned with extra marital affairs, the film is not about infidelity but the intrusive effects of modern society on Asian family life. In Vertical Ray of the Sun, he has created an antidote -- an aesthetic picture of a Vietnam unsullied by the memory of war, a culture of nature and tradition, encompassing the Buddhist value of compassion and the Confucian ideal of harmony. It may exist, however, only in his vision.

This movie was one long, slow, blissful dream. I can hardly explain how much I have been moved by this movie. It exists beyond what is projected on screen, appeals to some of one's innermost sensations, feelings almost forgotten, like the simple pleasure of waking up in the morning, opening one's window, and breathing, deeply. Since I live in Paris, I was lucky enough to meet Yen (the interpret of Lien) and Hung (the director) and talk to them personally. And I understood where the movie's deeply heartfelt nature came from : simply, it was the expression of the greatest sincerity and sensitivity of all. Hung and Yen are both just like this movie, just like the Scent of Green Papaya too : fascinated with simplicity, and constantly looking for beauty in its simplest form, in the most obvious gestures of everyday life. Waking up had always been a routine for me. After seeing this movie, it has become a pleasure renewed every morning. Never before had I understood the worth of movements executed slowly, fluently, harmoniously, almost like a ceremony. A la Verticale de l'Eté is not an obvious movie, where everything is suddenly thrown at the spectator who needs do nothing but open his mouth and swallow whatever is shoved down his throat. This demanding film asks a total commitment, asks you to completely forget everything else than the movie. But if you let yourself sink into the movie, if you make that initial effort, this film will reward you with much more than mere images and temporary distraction. I truly believe that this movie will forever stay in the hearts of those who have seen it. I have seen it four times so far, and can't get fed up with it. There is one problem about this movie though : it makes it particularly hard to get back into the "real" world... That is probably why I keep going, again and again, to see this movie. I think I like to believe that life can be a dream sometimes.