Like the rugged Japanese seacoast he lives on, Gou-ichi Takata, now in his
seventies, is a cold and remote figure. He only decides to leave his
Spartan quarters after receiving a distraught phone call from his
daughter-in-law Rie informing him that his son Ken-ichi, who he has been
estranged from for decades, is dying of liver cancer in a Tokyo hospital.
After arriving at the hospital, he discovers that his son will not see him.
He cannot forgive him for a decades-old offense that is never explained in
a narrative that gathers strength from words unspoken. As impassive as
ever, Takata shrugs his shoulders and exits the hospital. As he reaches the
parking lot, Rie catches up with him to fill him in on his sons greatest
passion, videotaping folk opera on location in China. Together they then
watch a tape made by him a year earlier in Yunnan province of a celebrated
local troupe. If Ken-ichi returns the following year, the lead singer will
perform Riding Alone for Thousands of Miles, a song that he brags is his
specialty.
In an attempt to reconcile with his dying son, Takata decides to go to
Yunnan province, track down the lead singer Li Jiamin, and tape him
performing this song. Thus begins Riding Alone for Thousands of Miles, a
masterpiece of a film by Zhang Yimou, Chinas greatest director. Its theme
resonates with one found in some of the worlds greatest literature, namely
psychological and moral transformation in the face of deatheither on the
part of the person fated to die, or those close to him or her.
full:
http://louisproyect.wordpress.com/2006/08/25/riding-alone-for-thousands-of-miles/
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