Unknown Pleasures / 任逍遥;

“Art sets the stage, let economy perform on it.”

When “Unknown Pleasures” (2002) was being shown late, late on Turner Classics, I was like, “Sure, why not? Might be interesting.” I was gearing towards the end of October and I knew I would need to try and get as far away from horror as possible for a bit. During the late 90s and early 2000s I was being introduced to film from all over the world and better immersed in classic film, not to mention, well established, critically championed independents. Back when Sundance Channel was actually a station that showed a lot of independent film, even featuring Asian horror every Sunday night, I was eventually devouring whatever Netflix or TCM would provide me.

This film, shot in China independently, has a title that derives from a specific song, used in a dance for a Mongolian King liquor company looking for acting talent. Miss Zhao Qiao Qiao is the female performer responsible for its success, Unknown Pleasures, depicting the product’s appeal. She essentially dances and gyrates a bit with her arms swaying, smiling for the happy crowd boxed into this tiny room, as they cheer her jovially. Some “judges” sit at a table with the Mongolian King to see who might be right candidates for the company’s advertising program. When she goes to Mongolian King’s cheerleading rah-rah promoter for money, he “encourages” her to take snaps for his all-smiles crew. He clearly doesn’t have any intention of paying her and throws her a bone of “couple of days, you’ll be in our troupe”, probably just to get rid of her. In the economy of this area of China, you see a lot of youth (kids, teens, and adults in their 20s) hanging around pool halls, gyms, “entertainment clubs” (one guy is in the middle of a solo operetta as Bin Bin peruses the local hangouts; this particular instance, he finds the singer in an echoing hall which raises his voice considerably). There is the textile mill that seems to service the area’s economy and a highway construction is underway, newsworthy for its contribution as a travel luxury. There is the 2008 Olympics Beijing get for China, as well as, a bombing in a factory producing plentiful victims in Datong (the setting). 

Datong—or where the director shoots the film to give us a real-life illustration of the hardships and seemingly fruitless existence for many who live there—is vivid, with the locations selected specifically detailing the hard-luck environment of the working class trying their best to eke out a decent living. Like Bin Bin’s mother who might seem tough and loveless but I think by the film’s end you realize it is the work and toil, finally getting to retire, with plans to renovate their modest little home. Even those considered “successful”, like Qiao San who would appear to be “in the money” (he can flash some, anyway) but is basically a flashy user (he was a gym teacher when Qiao Qiao was a student and…well, you can fill in the blanks before he was fired by the school), while Xiao Wu haunts the local establishments of the key leads, willing to loan money but also looks to snag a cigarette when he can.

Xiao Ji is smitten with Qiao Qiao, but she’s in no mood to tolerate his intrusion on her walk back to her “agent”, San, sitting at a small table with his “concubine”, as many others around Ji’s age crowd the hall, while just outside, the director’s camera walks in front of her as she passes rubble on both sides of her with lines of gutted structures appearing to be the owners of the debris piled to the right and left of her trail.  Inside the entertainment hall is a stage with various patrons, at other little tables, taking a load off, whistling and catcalling while the pretty performer moves about hoping to receive “tips”. Qiao Qiao is attached to her agent as he removes a bill from his bag for her, sticking it to his sweating forehead as it slides off into her open hand…she is smart in that she blocks his path until he relents.

I don’t think the message is subtle in terms of its view of economic inequality, as the haves and have-nots—although the haves probably would like to have a lot more—stand out. Case in point—Xiao Ji looks on as his desire walks up-close with the agent, realizing that unless he can find himself in a similar position, getting a lady like her would be most difficult. He doesn’t give up, that’s for sure. By the end, he’s eating with her at a diner while the two discuss Pulp Fiction, dancing with her at a club popping bee-bop before he’s bullied by San’s goons in the back, offering motorbike rides throughout Datong, and eventually staying a bit in a dingy hotel room where she has to rig the shower to work while afterward drying his wet hair, with the end result being separation.

The film doesn’t give its characters the romantic Hollywood ending. This is very much true to its place. Bin Bin unwisely follows a plan of Ji’s to attempt a bank robbery with an embarrassing fake bomb, leading to his arrest. Ji flees on his motorbike, which eventually goes kaput, with him having to catch a ride on a bus…better than poor Bin Bin who is left to sing for a police officer. Ji didn’t get to date the one he so longs for but at least he got away before police could nab him, leaving his “best friend” to take the rap. Ji is better off than Qiao Qiao who is dumped by San before he dies in a tragic accident no one mourns over, left to prostitute herself to those “who can afford her”, wearing a blue wig that shines.

Director Jia ZhangKe shot this in digital, and while it gave him greater mobility shooting exteriors were difficult thanks to the intrusive sunlight. I think in doing so he captures a kind of China that the curious outsider might find intriguing…and comparable. Relatable folks struggling to make ends meet is something many of us can identify with. Confines that have cracked walls and paint, narrow halls and walkways that are even thinner when locals line them, TV tubes always on (plopped in all sorts of places for whoever passes by or happens to fall to its allure), disheveled beds cramped in corners, padded areas with slits exposing material, and tables/furniture/chairs positioned wherever there is some room left. This isn’t a Datong isolated problem that many others all over the world can’t consider their own. 

Missing fathers, the “one child only” rule that leaves a lot of kids probably looking for a sibling connection wherever they find it, layoffs and desperation causing folks to take on “jobs” (one young lady performs massages and happy endings in a parlor until her partition is required to be removed) or crime, and ramshackle burgs resulting from structural decay. This is real life whether we want to see it or not.

And a girlfriend of Bin Bin, often meeting him at a hotel to watch television, including a cartoon about a free monkey untethered by where he lives, seems to come and go, with much better university and career prospects in finance, until he borrows money from Wu for a phone for her reminds us that not all are stuck in the trappings of industry district. Bin Bin, even unable to go into the army due to testing positive for hepititus (!), sees no future at all. She takes the phone, he remains at a bus station table while his girlfriend bikes away. She is off to school, he is stuck singing to the police.

The director holds on developments perhaps longer than some will be able to tolerate. Like Qiao Qiao trying to leave a bus with San stopping her with his arm or Ji taking repeated slaps to the face while San’s goons hold him still, or the Ji motorbike ride as a thunderstorm develops behind him. He holds the camera and seems intent on letting real life play out. It is a technique not new if you know Tsai Ming-liang or many of his contemporaries. I did think of Tran Anh Hung while watching this, too. This will no doubt be a problem for some to endure. There are plenty of long takes and scenes that play out. The ADD generation might not be able to handle it. 4/5

Oh, by the way, there's plenty of drags from lipped cigarettes, probably falling in line with what many consider a major point made of the youth and that American pop culture influence. The one dollar bill finds its way into monetary situations several times.