Qian li zou dan qi

As a long-time Zhang Yimou fan, I was pleased to see his most recent work depart from the Hero/ House of Flying Daggers genre and return to what I see as "classic" Zhang Yimou-- deceivingly simple films about personal struggle and transformation which are marked by their tenacious sense of humanism, stunning cinematography, and subtle political and social undertones.

Qian Li Zhou Dan Qi is a story about a father's (Ken Takakura's) journey to mend his relationship with his estranged son (voiced by Kiichi Nakai). It is a journey that transpires on two levels: Takada's physical voyage from a minimalist Japanese fishing village to a vibrant region of Yunnan Province China spurs an emotional progression that thaws his benumbed emotions for his son. Kiichi Nakai's character is never seen on screen and remains an abstraction; the son-figure is instead incarnated by a young boy of a remote village, fathered illegitimately by the opera singer whom Takada seeks to film. By learning to embrace the young boy, his hidden paternal love is manifested, and Takada, ever the stoic Hemingway man, is vicariously able to come to terms with his relationship with his own son.

The most gripping part of this film is Ken Takakura's performance. The range and depth of the actor's emotions was just what Zhang Yimou endeavored to capture in this film, and indeed, Takakura's dignity and gravitas permeates every minute of it. The camera delineates his face with great diligence and grace in the style of Zhang Yimou's The Road Home (1999) and earlier Gong Li films. Paired with visual imagery of Japan's coast and Yunnan's mountains and terrain, the picture is, as usual, a credit to Zhang Yimou's distinctive talent as director and ex-cinematographer.

Much has been said about the politics of Zhang Yimou's films. Since Qian Li Zhou Dan Qi deals with the touchy issues of state censorship and the Chinese prison system and presents them in an ultimately favorable light, it may appear that this film serves as propaganda for the Chinese government, which was an objection raised about Not One Less (1999). But even as a viewer who prefers to focus on Zhang Yimou's artistry and artistic expression rather than his "hidden political agenda," it would be rash to ignore the subtly subversive, wry irony interspersed in this film. No candy coating is painted upon the stiff policies of the state, which forbid foreigners from observing the internal workings of the prison system. The image of prisoners marching and chanting a din of self-improvement, reminiscent of the Cultural Revolution era, is equally stark. But beyond the state is the individual, and in this film as in many of Zhang Yimou's others, it is the triumph of the individual outside of his context that rings true.

What I disliked about this film, however, is that it seems Zhang Yimou has a tried-and-true formula which works, and works well, but which makes Qian Li Zhou Dan Qi feel slightly recycled (this probably wouldn't present a problem to those unfamiliar with his other films). The theme of a persistent individual's journey past bureaucracy and dispassion was explored in The Story of Qiu Ju (1992) and Zhang Yimou's use of local non-actors was a repeat from Not One Less. Moreover, this film does not escape the slowly-simmering tragic element that, though beautiful, is characteristically Zhang Yimou. I tended to enjoy the more circuitous route to tragedy in Happy Times (2000). But bottom line: after the martial arts movies secured his international fame, Zhang Yimou has created a film reminiscent of his earlier work, truly representative of his talent & vision, and which will probably receive more widespread attention— deservedly so.

In a village of fishermen in Japan, Takata (Ken Takakura) misses his son Kenichi, to whom he has been estranged for many years. When his daughter-in-law Rie (Shinobu Terajima) tells him that Kenichi is sick in the hospital, she suggests Takata to come to Tokyo to visit his son in the hospital where he would have the chance to retie the relationship. However, Kenichi refuses to receive his father in his room, and Rie gives a videotape to Takata to know about the work of his son. Once at home, Takata sees a documentary in the remote village Lijiang, in the province of Younnan, about the passion of Kenichi, the Chinese opera, where the lead singer Li Jiamin (Jiamin Li) promises to sing an important folk opera on the next year. When Rie calls Takata to tell that her husband has a terminal liver cancer, Takata decides to travel to Lijiang to shoot Li Jiamin singing the opera to give to Kenichi.

"Qian Li Zou Dan Qi" is a magnificent movie about fathers and sons in a wonderful journey to understanding and redemption that will certainly bring tears and smiles to the viewer. The screenplay perfectly discloses in an adequate pace the touching and heartbreaking story of a man that tries reconciliation with his son filming the opera in China and finally understands the feelings of his son. It is also a story about lost chances in life to be close to those we love since people usually forget that time is irreversible and life is unique. The cinematography is amazing, as usual in Yimou Zhang movies. Ken Takakura gives a top-notch performance supported by the excellent acting of a few professional actors and actresses and an amateurish cast. The music score is very peaceful and beautiful. I have just included this gem in the list of my favorite movies ever. My vote is nine.

Title (Brazil): "Um Longo Caminho" ("A Long Way")

It has been a long time since Zhang last pull an intimate angle on his film. It feels good to watch a simple story that filled our emotions right to the brim.

If i'm not wrong. this is the first time Zhang focus on MAN's emotion. His protagonist have always been females. (The 2 most famous actress from china - gongli and zhang ziyi is a result of his great foresight.) Zhang Yimou possess a good eye for casting. Both old man and little boy exudes certain stunning charisma that i find them look alike to each other. Both possess a ruggard face that reads hardship and strength. Ironically these man and boy of rock are hit by the softness of kinship. whatever it is, they stand tall in the face of sad history. watching the heart map of a solid MAN like takakura is one of the most touching thing for me. i was moved by the story.

it was so rare to watch the male characters to be dissect by Zhang. When that happens, they are much pale (quiet & reserved) in comparison to the other female characters in zhang's previous film. for me, that is novelty. kudos to zhang for reinventing himself!

Good films depict feelings truthfully; with great works of art, you experience emotions deep within yourself. Zhang Yimou's "Riding Alone for Thousands of Miles" is not only a three-hankie movie, it may leave you with a sense of being changed, of being connected to others in new ways. It is that powerful, that important a work.

"Only connect" - E.M. Forster's imperative for creating ties - is at the heart of Zhang's new film, but with a twist. Takata, the central character, is an elderly Japanese, seemingly unconnected to anyone, a man with a frozen face and heart, long estranged from his only son, who has now fallen gravely ill. Ken Takakura, one of the most majestic actors alive (an ideal - perhaps the only - Lear around), is Takata, his uncommunicative, stony presence compelling attention and generating a mix of apprehension and pity.

Takata's journey to China's Yunnan province to complete his son's filming of the legendary song "Qian li zou dan qi," that gave the film its title, is full of twists and turns. Zhang tells the story with honesty, integrity, and Parsifal's "wisdom through compassion." In a brilliant stroke, Zhang opens and closes the film with the same scene - Takata, motionless, gazing over the confluence of gray sea and sky - but he, along with the audience, is in a completely different place, the unchanged exterior masking a person richly transformed by daring, risk-taking humanity.

Zhang, a master of producing a variety of genres and styles, put everything into this work (except the wushu grandeur of "Hero" and the upcoming "Curse of the Golden Flower") - the broad sweep of "Raise the Red Lantern," the chamber music of "The Road Home," the joyful melodrama of "Happy Times," and a dozen other works.

"Riding Alone" is adventure, psychological drama, a "quest film," unveiling spectacular vistas and the deep divisions/underlying connections between individuals and civilizations. And yet, through all this, "Riding Alone" is all of one piece, a grand novel in tightly connected (but ever-surprising) chapters, a 19th century literary saga in a 21st century setting.

If the film were presented in a series of silent close-ups of Takakura, it would be glorious enough, but the bonus is an army of non-professional actors, in addition to the magnificent Shinobu Terajima as Takata's daughter-in-law; Qiu Lin as Lingo, the would-be interpreter; Jiang Wen as Jasmine, the accomplished translator; Yang Zhenbo as Yang Yang, an amazing child star in a pivotal role; and Chinese-opera star Li Jiamin as himself.

If you're looking for a detailed story line, you will not find it here. Why would you deny yourself the pleasure of being taken along on a superb, heartwarming ride of surprise and discovery?

In this film, Zhang Yimou portrays the stark difference between Japanese and Chinese culture without succumbing to biased tendencies. Among the numerous cultural differences, perhaps the greatest visual distinction would be the colorful masses of China against the gray, solitude of Japan. The audience becomes aware of these contrasts as Takata, a Japanese father sets out on a journey to China in hopes of improving his estranged relationship with his son who is dying from liver cancer. Through his travels Takata comes to a greater understanding about life, himself, and his son's interest with the Chinese culture, especially the folk operas.