Blue

Wong Kar-Wai's My Blueberry Nights arrived in local theaters like a vague apparition: the lukewarm advanced word didn't quell in any way my desire to see the film, but it made me lower my expectations, which is difficult to do, given my appreciation for Wong's work. The resulting experience was definitely mixed. Wong's dialog sounded occasionally campy and somewhat stilted; the metaphors for transition seemed a bit too neat and standard (trains, doorways, keys that unlock doors); the acting seemed to lay somewhere between the purposeful artificiality of a stage production and the spontaneity of an unscripted film. I have to admit that I'm not a fan of Natalie Portman's approach to character, in this film or in others, although her wayward sassiness here is a relatively nice complement to Norah Jones' somewhat flat, perhaps even lethargic, performance (I'm borrowing the term "flat" from a source I can't recall at the moment; I'm also wondering if the flatness is intentional, a sort of verbal and physical manifestation of the emotional drubbing her character receives). But, these caveats aside, I found My Blueberry Nights to be a somewhat beautiful, poignant film. Wong's adeptness at creating visual mood, his characteristic use of color and compression, framing and close-up, inform this film thoroughly, and he appropriately mirrors the varied landscapes and settings of his new-found territory (the United States) in different spaces, from the cramped quarters of small cafes and seedy bars, to the wide-open Nevada desert. In addition, I don't think anyone has ever photographed Rachel Weisz more beautifully. Whether she's half-drunk or enraged or in a saddened stupor, or reclaiming remnants of her dignity in her character's own limited way, Wong's camera truly flatters her. Most of all, Wong's first English-language film carries, with admittedly somewhat less efficacy than his previous work, that visceral, chest-tightening sense of the bittersweetness of change, that burning compulsion, from which everyone in this film "suffers", to hold on to a past that cannot be reclaimed while trying anxiously to understand the present and the future. Wong surveys this experience in the lives of his characters, all of whom have had, or have, people departing from their lives. He surveys it in the simple, complementary shots of an apartment at once occupied, then vacant. And he surveys it in the all-too-brief moment (that's the point, of course) in which Chan Marshall (a.k.a. Cat Power) appears, like a pleasant flash, as Jude Law's ex-girlfriend, in the midst of yet another transition, preparing for yet another departure. The film's melodrama, its patness, limit the film's potential; even the scene with Law and Marshall contains those repeated references to time-worn symbols of locks and doors. But, at least in their essence, moments like these keep the film in line with some of Wong's other work, not only thematically, but visually: he shoots Law and Marshall from the other side of a cafe window, a physical marker in certain ways of the division these individuals long to rectify.

Comments

[lylee]

Astutely observant as always, Michael. I am still collecting my thoughts on the film, but I'm still of the mindset that even "meh" WKW is still ridiculously, seductively watchable. There's a kind of poetry to his style that you capture and that I don't think he could lose or even dilute if he tried.

[Michael]

Thanks, Lynn. You know, I was thinking along the same lines -- this is a relatively minor Wong film, and yet it's entirely infectious in its look and mood. And, as we discussed before, even without Christopher Doyle's trademark images, the same Wong imprint is there in almost every frame. I'm definitely looking forward to seeing it again when the DVD becomes available.

[Jake]

I think the "flatness" of the performances come from the knowledge that Wong's characters in previous non-American films were flat in speech... it wasn't easily detectable because of a language barrier.

[Michael]

Jake, that's a good point, and something I hadn't really picked up on (now that I think about it, I can see it in some of his Asian work) ... though I'm also wondering if it's also partly Jones' own manner of speech ... this is her first film role, so if she acts again, I'll be interested to see if there's a difference.