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Riding Alone for Thousands of Miles review
:. Director: Yimou Zhang
:. Starring: Ken Takakura, Jiang Wen
:. Running Time: 1:47
:. Year: 2006
:. Country: China, Japan, Hong Kong
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To American audiences, Yimou Zhang is best known as the director of Hero and House of Flying Daggers, two depictions of feudal China that combined stunning cinematography and surreal choreography. But Zhang's career has included profound social dramas that, unfortunately, continue to elude Western filmgoers, including Raise High the Red Lanterns and Happy Times. Now, with the limited release of Riding Alone for Thousands of Miles, we are offered yet another opportunity to see the softer side of one of cinema's leading contemporary filmmakers.
Gou-ichi Takata (Ken Takakura) is a quiet Japanese fisherman living on the remote coast of China; his only child, a son named Ken-ichi (Kiichi Nakai), lives in Tokyo; the two haven't spoken in ten years. But as the cold season approaches, Gou-ichi is summoned to Ken-ichi's hospital bedside by his wife Rei (Shinobu Terajima), where the son has taken ill with liver cancer. Though Ken-ichi refuses to see his estranged father, Rei gives Gou-ichi a videotape of her husband's latest project—filming a Chinese folk opera. Gou-ichi, hoping to repair relations with his son, decides to complete the project himself with the help of Jasmine (Jiang Wen) and Lingo (Lin Qiu), two translators. What he doesn't know is that the opera singer, Li Jiamin (Jiamin Li), has been sent to prison for three years, leaving behind an illegitimate son.
Relying heavily on contrasts—the vibrant, untouched Chinese landscape against Japan's gray concrete; the intimacy of dialogue against the coldness of technology—Riding Alone for Thousands of Miles creates a story built around Gou-ichi's search for reconnection. His son, now isolated in a dreary hospital, has been isolated for years; physically and emotionally distant from his father, he also basked in the inaccessibility of China, where he happily didn't understand the language. Now Gou-ichi walks the same path as his son, visiting quiet lands and meeting people whose friendly nature conflict with his detached personality.
The character of Gou-ichi, who says very little throughout much of the film, is strengthened by Takakura's inflexible use of nuance. Portraying a character who speaks through empty stares, sullen strides, and gentle motions of the hand is a difficult task, one which Takakura—a famed Yakuza actor—undertakes with apparent ease. Distinct from other sentimental road movies like Harry and Tonto and The Straight Story, in which the characters are developed through long, ruminative monologues, Riding Alone for Thousands of Miles uses steady, lingering shots of its characters. By the end of the film, we know Gou-ichi, even though he's told us absolutely nothing.
While the film moves slowly, sometimes arduously, Zhang finds fortune in the relationship between Gou-ichi and Yang Yang (Zhenbo Yang), Li Jiamin's adolescent son. Having planned on introducing Yang Yang to his incarcerated father, he and Gou-ichi become lost in the canyons of China, where the two form a bond that helps them heal. Yang Yang is still too young to understand the importance of parents—his mother is dead, and he's never met his father—and Gou-ichi is too old to make amends. Yet as they rest in the chasms' depths, awaiting rescue, the scene is overcome by a sense of harmony. Finally, Gou-ichi is redeemed.
With awing cinematography by Xiaoding Zhao, who lent his cinematic eye to Zhang's two previous films, Riding Alone for Thousands of Miles is a thoughtful, heartbreaking examination of how we're each large beings in a broad, open world. Though we may seem like small, insignificant shadows destined to be lost amongst the mountains and valleys, everything we do is important to someone.
Adam Balz
 Movie Reviews: Asian Films
Reviews 2012 - present
Reviews 1998 - 2012
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