Yi Yi (2000)

Yi Yi (Edward Yang, 2000)
I have only had the opportunity to see two of his films, but based on the unique strength and extraordinary power of those two films, I would call Edward Yang a cinematic master.  I hope to have opportunity to see the rest of his work, but if A Brighter Summer Day (1991) ever gets a decent DVD release that I can enjoy alongside Yi Yi, that may be enough.  There is enough in these two films to last a while.

Yi Yi (2000) was Edward Yang's last film and as such it works as his crowning achievement.  It is not an epic, at least, not a conventional one.  It is a small story of a family, but a full story, where every ellipsis will eventually cross back over itself and every detail has repercussions.  Part of his mastery is the ability to take mundane scenes and fuse them with significance that may not be conscious, but is certainly felt somehow.  A child is an outsider within his own family function, an event that seems a little too neat and planned to be real.  The characters are stuck like the helium-filled balloons rising up to the ceiling.

Even mundane events can set up the color scheme for the film, and visually express everything the audience is going to see the rest of the way.

Sometimes I wonder if Yi Yi is the last great film of the 20th century or the first great film of the 21st.  It feels like the fulfillment of traditional narrative filmmaking.  Yang's thematic material is traditional (generational conflict, death, infidelity, distrust, coming-of-age), his technique is not obtrusive or ostentatious and he completely avoids self-reflexivity.  He is the sort of filmmaker who may get overlooked for how accomplished he is because his brushstrokes are so carefully hidden.  But if you look carefully (and you know how to find them), you will see them.  For me, I saw them immediately in the recurring motifs he implemented and in his accomplished use of landscape.

Sometimes a reflection can show the longing heart of a character.

Sometimes reflections can trap the character within his own world.

Yang is a master of characters within spaces and utilizes sound to only deepen this.  In Brighter Summer Day he used the soundtrack cleverly to lay out the geography of the town.  In Yi Yi, sound can create distance by having a character hear what occurs off-screen, add detail that the image cannot reveal, or prophesy an upcoming event.

Every setting paints the context of a character. 

By utilizing long shots, Yang gives the close-ups he sparingly uses more emotional power.  His lighting is natural, often motivated primarily from without rather than within.  It all depends on where the character thinks they find happiness.  When a character is at work, they are usually caught in-between worlds.

Geometric patterns break down the space while obstructions prove to be just as prevalent as reflections.

Daily routine is very much a part of Yang's films, as he utilizes even the same framing for multiple scenes within a given setting so that when the routine is broken, either by obstruction or diversity of image selection, it is immediately felt by the audience.  Sometimes it is the uncommon sight that gives us narrative information often reserved for dialogue.  But why waste a powerful moment to engage the audience by having characters talk about it?

The characters cannot always see clearly what is right in front of them.

The space is finally stripped down so much the only place the characters can look is straight ahead.