Perhaps the greatest trick narrative filmmaking ever pulled is convincing viewers that storytelling matters more than style. Both play an important part in telling a tale made for cinematic consumption; however, films that make audiences actively ponder how the latter facilitates and improves the former are far from common. That’s why, when The Grand Budapest Hotel switches between aspect ratios throughout its running time, or Mommy finds a visual way to demonstrate the happiness its characters fleetingly feel, or American Honey boxes in its struggling but searching protagonist, viewers are forced to take notice. It’s also why I Am Not Madame Bovary frames much of its content not just by using less of the screen, but by embracing an unconventional shape that can’t be overlooked.
Moving from the earthquake antics and drought drama of his well-known previous fare Aftershock and Back to 1942 to a satire of gender politics and bureaucratic bungling, director Feng Xiaogang (Personal Tailor) leaves much of its imagery black and blank, making a statement with the absence of visuals from parts of the frame usually alive with vision. With cinematographer Luo Pan (Mr. Six), he peers in, literally, at a world that may as well be seen through a keyhole. After it segues from a silk painting to its round format, it might take a few moments to embrace I Am Not Madame Bovary’s circular picture, but the message it sends is immediate. What stylistic choice could be more appropriate to relate the efforts of a woman fighting against a restrictive system than to similarly, visibly, unmistakably limit the way in which her tale is told?
So it is that the plight of rural cafe owner Li Xuelian (Fan Bingbing, League of Gods) comes to life, as adapted from Liu Zhenyun’s 2012 novel I Did Not Kill My Husband by the screenwriter and author. Intermittent narration provides explanatory and background details imperative to understanding just how trapped Xuelian is — as well as expanding upon the wrongly applied titular label, also known as Pan Jinlian and considered a derogatory judgement reserved for women known to be devious and unfaithful, that she’s rallying against — as she contests her divorce to ex-husband Qin Yule (Li Zonghan, The Stand-In). Theirs was meant to be a separation not in earnest, but with subterfuge afoot: namely securing a sought-after second property. Alas, when Qin takes up with another woman instead of keeping his part of the bargain, Xuelian can’t prove their plan, not that it stops her from trying.
Following Xuelian’s decade-long, revenge-fuelled quest against injustice, apathy, corruption and incompetence — or, to remarry Qin so that she can divorce him out of spite, rather than mutual scheming — I Am Not Madame Bovary traverses administrative farce and gender-based impositions, with cultural specificities evident, but the broader, relatable nature of both beyond the film’s setting always remaining apparent. Indeed, the more Feng forces the watcher to stare intently at gorgeously, precisely composed, purposely painterly images given only a fraction of frontage, but imploring staring eyes to devour telling contrasts in landscape and tone, the more contemplative and thematically complicated his feature becomes. And, when the slightest change intrudes courtesy of an unexpected movement or a different frame, becoming cognisant of the enormous difference it makes is part of the viewing process. Feng proves as meticulous yet slyly playful in his aesthetic decisions as he does in his story; given the topic, and the scathing commentary he’s offering, both are necessary.
Such a focus on how I Am Not Madame Bovary presents its visuals, the probing impact that they have, and how they’re an effective vehicle for the film’s pointed political musings, doesn’t lessen the contribution of those caught by the camera. Ostensibly standing in the spotlight offered by the feature’s frames, Fan wears an expression that can weather all sorrows and setbacks while still conveying ingrained persistence and pain. As Xuelian’s episodic antics continue in measured fits and spurts, stressing how little changes other than the many local and Beijing-based male decision-makers’ growing frustration at her determination, the nuance of her gaze and stance — and how both remain delicately attuned to the movie’s many shifts in mood — can’t be underestimated. Playing her childhood classmate turned potential accomplice (and aspiring paramour), Guo Tao’s (The Dead End) comic-laced turn stands out among the male cast, though the fact that most of his co-stars flail, confer nervously and talk in circles when confronted with a strong-willed woman proves endlessly fitting.
Rating: 4 stars out of 5
I Am Not Madame Bovary
Director: Feng Xiaogang
China, 2016, 136 mins
Rating: M
In general release: 17 November 2016
Brisbane Asia Pacific Film Festival
brisbaneasiapacificfilmfestival.com
23 November – 4 December 2016
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