In contemporary London, a Cambodian Chinese mother mourns the untimely death of her son. Her world is further unsettled by the presence of his ‘friend’, her boyfriend and a translator. Trying to connect with one another without a common language, will they be able to piece together memories of a man they both loved? imdb

The British Film Festival is still going strong at Palace Electric Cinemas but don’t delay, it finishes up this coming Sunday with The Imitation Game, including a special event preceding the screenings at 7.00 and 7.15pm. But don’t despair, some films have proved so popular they will return again soon – What We Did on Our Holiday, The Love Punch, and A Long Way Down will be back next week and Testament of Youth will return from Friday 28 November.

This film is a part of that festival and represents the very reason why we should appreciate the film festivals that make their way to Canberra. Even though it has been shown at the Sundance Film Festival, where it won an award, there is little chance it would ever show at a suburban multiplex. Ever.

That is a great shame.

I felt privileged to see this small, beautifully nuanced gem. A cast of just four main characters and one elegant support role (Andrew Leung as the departed Kai) means that the audience is allowed a laser focus on their journey. Not an easy journey and not one with a destination tied up with a bow but one those closest to Kai must make because they are still alive. What a gift to all the actors involved.

It is about being away from everything familiar and therefore clinging to your customs or beliefs as a lifeline and it is about being an outsider fitting in. The writer/director, Hong Khaou, understands the issues around conflicting cultures and being uprooted from all that is familiar, having escaped Cambodia as a child with his family during the Pol Pot regime and then growing up in London. There is a good interview on Dazed, if you want to learn more about him but I’ll give a tiny example of his sensitivity to all cultures. Actors’ names are set out in the credits as they would be in their own country (Chinese write their family name first) and to indicate which is which to either culture, he has the given (first) name vanish and the family name remain for a moment longer. Not in-your-face, not overwhelmingly PC, but beautifully done.

Kai’s mother (Junn) is played by martial arts legend Cheng Pei-Pei, probably best known as the enigmatic teacher Jade Fox in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, a film that did hint at the depths of her acting talents. She makes stoicism into an artform, letting every movement of her near still lips have meaning and bearing her lot with dignity – parked in a nursing home by a son who cannot work up the courage to reveal his sexuality to her, she has nowhere else to go when he dies.

Kai’s lover (Richard) is played by the luminous Ben Whishaw who can speak volumes with his eyes – and don’t get me started on his mobile lips! Every role he plays is given such depth and humanity I can barely look at the screen, but I cannot look away either. Just two words: Bright Star. Here, his anguish at losing the person who has been his whole life is so tangible, as is his sense of guilt over Junn’s lot.

The other characters are a translator (Naomi Christie) employed by Richard to help Junn talk to her elderly boyfriend (Peter Bowles), another resident at her nursing home. Moments of gentle humour are created as these two learn more about each other, and discover that mystery may be the best thing they have, but centre stage, without question, belongs to Junn and Richard and their memories of, and love for, Kai.

The way memory is used as a device, a reminder and a punctuation point in the story is interesting and poetic. Junn’s husband was a compulsive gambler so almost her first question to her new boyfriend is about that. The whole nursing home is kitted out with wallpaper and furnishings from the 1960s, in the hope that it will make the residents feel young again. Music from that era is central to the few moments of joy that Junn has but also becomes a way for her to position people correctly in her memory at the end.

A sublime, tear-filled (for me) yet incredibly uplifting end.

Loved it.

The author saw this film as a guest of the Emirates British Film Festival.

In contemporary London, a Cambodian Chinese mother mourns the untimely death of her son. Her world is further unsettled by the presence of his ‘friend’, her boyfriend and a translator. Trying to connect with one another without a common language, will they be able to piece together memories of a man they both loved? imdb

The British Film Festival is still going strong at Palace Electric Cinemas but don’t delay, it finishes up this coming Sunday with The Imitation Game, including a special event preceding the screenings at 7.00 and 7.15pm. But don’t despair, some films have proved so popular they will return again soon – What We Did on Our Holiday, The Love Punch, and A Long Way Down will be back next week and Testament of Youth will return from Friday 28 November.

This film is a part of that festival and represents the very reason why we should appreciate the film festivals that make their way to Canberra. Even though it has been shown at the Sundance Film Festival, where it won an award, there is little chance it would ever show at a suburban multiplex. Ever.

That is a great shame.

I felt privileged to see this small, beautifully nuanced gem. A cast of just four main characters and one elegant support role (Andrew Leung as the departed Kai) means that the audience is allowed a laser focus on their journey. Not an easy journey and not one with a destination tied up with a bow but one those closest to Kai must make because they are still alive. What a gift to all the actors involved.

It is about being away from everything familiar and therefore clinging to your customs or beliefs as a lifeline and it is about being an outsider fitting in. The writer/director, Hong Khaou, understands the issues around conflicting cultures and being uprooted from all that is familiar, having escaped Cambodia as a child with his family during the Pol Pot regime and then growing up in London. There is a good interview on Dazed, if you want to learn more about him but I’ll give a tiny example of his sensitivity to all cultures. Actors’ names are set out in the credits as they would be in their own country (Chinese write their family name first) and to indicate which is which to either culture, he has the given (first) name vanish and the family name remain for a moment longer. Not in-your-face, not overwhelmingly PC, but beautifully done.

Kai’s mother (Junn) is played by martial arts legend Cheng Pei-Pei, probably best known as the enigmatic teacher Jade Fox in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, a film that did hint at the depths of her acting talents. She makes stoicism into an artform, letting every movement of her near still lips have meaning and bearing her lot with dignity – parked in a nursing home by a son who cannot work up the courage to reveal his sexuality to her, she has nowhere else to go when he dies.

Kai’s lover (Richard) is played by the luminous Ben Whishaw who can speak volumes with his eyes – and don’t get me started on his mobile lips! Every role he plays is given such depth and humanity I can barely look at the screen, but I cannot look away either. Just two words: Bright Star. Here, his anguish at losing the person who has been his whole life is so tangible, as is his sense of guilt over Junn’s lot.

The other characters are a translator (Naomi Christie) employed by Richard to help Junn talk to her elderly boyfriend (Peter Bowles), another resident at her nursing home. Moments of gentle humour are created as these two learn more about each other, and discover that mystery may be the best thing they have, but centre stage, without question, belongs to Junn and Richard and their memories of, and love for, Kai.

The way memory is used as a device, a reminder and a punctuation point in the story is interesting and poetic. Junn’s husband was a compulsive gambler so almost her first question to her new boyfriend is about that. The whole nursing home is kitted out with wallpaper and furnishings from the 1960s, in the hope that it will make the residents feel young again. Music from that era is central to the few moments of joy that Junn has but also becomes a way for her to position people correctly in her memory at the end.

A sublime, tear-filled (for me) yet incredibly uplifting end.

Loved it.

The author saw this film as a guest of the Emirates British Film Festival.