Zhantai, 2000
[Platform]
Platform
opens to an appropriately temporally indeterminate sight of a bustling,
crowded backstage of a provincial theater as a group of itinerant
performers await the commencement of their traveling cultural education
program that equally extols the country's technological and social
progress made possible by the Communist Revolution and celebrates
its principal architect, Chairman Mao Zedong. However, a cut to a shot
of the company tour bus as the manager provides constructive criticism
on the performance of the peasant troupe (apparently caused by inaccurate
mimicking of train sounds by some members who have never seen a
train in real life) begins to reveal the disparity between their state-commissioned,
official message of national modernization and the reality of life
in the rural provinces. The theme of mimicry and imitation of the foreign
and unfamiliar continues in a subsequent, lighthearted scene, this
time to the family home of one of the junior performers in the troupe,
Cui Ming-liang (Wang Hong-wei) in the city of Fenyang in the northern
Chinese province of Shanxi, then reveals the timeframe to be the late
1970s as his mother obliges the idle, cocksure young man by altering
a seemingly impractical pair of bell-bottom jeans in which the cuffs
are so wide that, as she bemusedly comments, they can be used to sweep
the streets. The film then proceeds in a series of slice-of-life vignettes
that obliquely chronicle the lives of Ming-liang and his fellow "art
performers" - the demure object of his affection, Ruijuan (Zhao Tao),
Ruijian's more progressive-minded friend, Zhong-ping (Tian Yi-yang), and
Zhong-Ping's ambitious and self-motivated lover, Zhang-Jun (Liang Jing-dong)
- through pop culture influences that indirectly reflect the social
reformation of latter-day contemporary China from an insular, state-run
economy towards privatization.
Filmed in distancing medium shots that visually reflect the nation's
increasing regional polarization and cultural heterogeneity as a result
of shifting economic reforms away from isolationism and state-controlled
industries towards globalization, modernization, and integrated free enterprise,
Platform is a humorous, quietly observed,
serenely realized, and incisive cultural document of China towards the end
of the twentieth century. Jia Zhang-ke further creates a sense of pervasive
discontinuity through modular narrative ellipses that establish a chronological
linearity and progression that, nevertheless, blurs the relativity between each
subsequent, self-contained episode. In essence, the film serves as a deliberately
fragmented, unsentimental, and emotionally dissociative first-hand account of
contemporary history: an estranged and depersonalized chronicle that illustrates
the marginalization of humanity under the turmoil of profound national change.
Similar to the plight of the perennially dislocated acting troupe in Theo
Angelopoulos' epic film, The Travelling
Players, the evolution of the itinerant performers - from disseminators
of peasant propaganda, to champions of an eroding, indigenous culture, and
eventually, to gauche (and unintentionally comical) assimilators of commercial
pop culture - is a poignant articulation of a generation foundering in their
own seeming irrelevance and figurative exile from within their homeland,
desperately struggling for inclusion and a sense of place in their country's
future. It is this sentiment of cultural displacement that is illustrated in
the repeated encounters between Ming-liang and Ruijuan among the ruins of a
disused ancient fortress: an elegiac image of unrequited love lost in the
expansive and formidable landscape of a silent, unarticulated, and disconnected
human history.
© Acquarello 2004. All rights reserved.
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