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RIDING ALONE FOR THOUSANDS OF MILES
Directed by: Zhang Yimou.
Produced by: Bill Kong, Xiu Jian & Zhang Weiping.
Written by: Zou Jingzhi, based on a story by Zhang, Zou & Wang Bin.
Director of Photography: Zhao Xiaoding.
Edited by: Cheng Long.
Music by: Guo Wenjing.
Released by Sony Pictures Classics.
Language: Japanese & Mandarin with English subtitles.
Country of Origin: Hong Kong/China/Japan. 108 min. Rated: PG.
With: Ken Takakura, Shinobu Terajima, Kiichi Nakai, Li Jiamin, Qiu Lin, Jiang Wen & Yang Zhenbo.

It’s good to see the filmmaker Zhang Yimou back in familiar territory, even if it doesn’t quite reach the heights of his previous successes. While there was nothing particularly wrong with his recent immersion into the romanticized martial arts genre (his previous film, House of Flying Daggers, is a near masterpiece), the director of the great Raise the Red Lantern is back, centered on people than special effects, and with a more measured pace and mood.

Gou-ichi Takata (Ken Takakura), a somewhat elderly Japanese fisherman, finds out his estranged son Kenichi is dying of cancer. To make up for lost time and a grievance that is never fully explained (though there are hints of an emotional void), he decides to complete a project that Ken-ichi has left unfinished: to film renowned singer Li Jiamin (played by himself) performing a Chinese folk opera, from which the film gets its name. After traveling to rural Yunnan Province, Takata discovers Li Jiamin has landed in prison for a drunken fracas. But Li Jiamin has another reason for being too despondent to sing: he’s separated from his long lost son. To raise the singer’s sagging spirits, Takata searches for the boy, leading him on a journey that is more about emotions than real plot specifics and such.

Indeed, one of the best things about Riding Alone for Thousands of Miles is Zhang’s complete control of mood. The film’s resonant without being preachy, and is content sticking closely to the subject at hand without reaching for too many grander statements. At its best, it works almost in the opposite fashion of Lantern. Instead of emotional repression, here the opposite is true, like when Li Jiamin’s caretakers throw an enormous village feast for Takata, a scene touching in a fashion that might have been overshot by a Hollywood director. That being said, some scenes end up going on for unnecessary lengths and border on becoming repetitive – like the continuity of Takata not knowing Chinese and no one else speaking Japanese, aside from a goofy sidekick/guide. Repeatedly a lost-in-translation gimmick occurs. And in an overlong sequence, Li Jiamin’s young son and Takata are lost amidst rocky cliffs on their way to the prison; the point is overstretched due to Zhang’s captivating but unnecessary shots of the landscape. The opera is finally performed, but, unfortunately, is cut short by the film’s musical score, cutting off any interest in Li Jiamin’s actual performance. Jack Gattanella
September 1, 2006