LEARNING EXPERIENCE
by Howard Schumann

In Together, the latest film by Chen Kaige (Yellow Earth, Farewell My Concubine), a shabbily-dressed cook named Lui Cheng (Lui Peiqi) arrives in Beijing with his talented 13-year old son Xiaochun (Tang Yun), a violin prodigy, to look for a proper teacher to nurture his son's career. The beleaguered father soon discovers, after his son places fifth in a competition to enter a prestigious music school, that the top prizes only go to the wealthiest students. After much bargaining, Cheng finally secures the services of a music teacher, Professor Jiang (Wang Ziwen). Jiang, however, is a reclusive eccentric who lives by himself with only his stray cats for companionship, and is unconcerned with preparing his students for international competition.

Xiaochun becomes infatuated with Lili (Chen Hong), a good-natured prostitute he met at the train station. She pays him to play the violin for her, but the relationship only leads to a family crisis that further complicates things for Xiaochun and his dad. At a Beijing concert hall, Cheng watches a young violin student trained by Professor Yu (Chen Kaige) gain the approval of the audience, prompting him to think he has finally found a teacher who can make his son a star. The two music teachers represent perhaps the growing dichotomy in China between classical Chinese tradition and Western values and, if this is the case, it is obvious which side the film is on. Ultimately, Xiaochun must choose between being true to his best instincts or disappointing his father.

While it is true that parents in China are increasingly coming to the cities to seek a way out of rural poverty, the premise is not translated in a way that is very persuasive. Together flounders in a sea of sentimentality, without any historical context or authenticity of time and place. The boy plays the violin with deep emotion, but otherwise walks through the film with the same blank expression, and the father can charitably be described as a Chinese version of Roberto Begnini. Although the film is about playing the violin, there is no trial and error, or any hint of the long hours of practice needed, or insight into the ups and downs of learning to play an instrument. Xiaochun's talents are fully formed, and he performs each bravura solo as if he were ready for Carnegie Hall.

Beyond that, the director seems to be saying that for an artist to succeed in modern China, he must relinquish his integrity. Mr. Chen should look in the mirror. For a film that emphasizes the choice one has to make between art and commerce, he has made the wrong one, producing a slick, glossy product that may have wide audience appeal, but lacks the ring of truth.

Beijing Bicycle, by Sixth Generation director Wang Xiaoshuai, is an unsettling look at modern China in transition that depicts the relationship between two young men of different social status, both yearning for acceptance and stubbornly determined to succeed. Guei (Cui Lin) is an inexpressive working class 17-year old who has come to Beijing to find work, while Jian (Li Bin), is a sophisticated middle-class student, desperate to belong, seeking approval from his biker friends and his beautiful girlfriend Gin (Zhao Yiwel). The film explores the consequences when Guei's bicycle is stolen and ends up in Jian's hands.

The bicycle represents an escape for both from the competitive pressures of their lives. For Guei, it is a means of access to a job, an income, and survival. For Jian, it is the pathway to being "cool" and being in the in-group, much like what the flashy sports car represents to young men in Western countries. As the film opens, a group of boys are being interviewed for a job as a courier. Enticed by the prospect of owning a silver mountain bicycle, Guei takes the job and begins to save money to buy the bike, given to him as a loan (it will be his once he has earned 700 yuan, which is about $85). Out of his element in the bewildering city, Guei runs into an awkward situation almost immediately, when he makes a delivery in a luxury hotel and is directed to the gym where he is forced to strip for a shower before he can deliver his package. He is then asked to pay for the shower when he leaves but does not have enough money. When his bike is stolen just one day before he can become the owner, Guei's job is threatened. His manager is compassionate, although abrasive in manner, and offers to take Guei back if he can find his bike. In a city where bicycles are still the most common means of transportation, Guei sets out, against all odds, to find it.

The film is about the bicycle, but is also about the city of Beijing. Guei's search for the bicycle takes him into all corners of the city. With an original score by Felix Wang and magnificent cinematography by Jie Liu, the city comes alive, with streets littered with traffic juxtaposed with mysterious alleys where old men play board games or do Tai Chi. Wang adds little touches, l such as two friends sharing a toothbrush and a single spigot of water in an alley serving an entire neighborhood. Like De Sica's The Bicycle Thief, the stolen bicycle is central to the story, but here it is not about the hunt but about the consequences that follow from its recovery. When the student Jian is found with the bike, both he and Guei assert ownership and the bike is stolen and reclaimed by both boys several times, each time ending in a scuffle with Jian's friends. The two boys are pitted against each other but mutual need brings them together.

Beijing Bicycle is a deeply human odyssey that, while somewhat repetitive, never loses its rhythm. Though there is little dialogue and the characters communicate mostly with body language, long silences, and facial expressions, the actors perform their roles with authenticity. Parts of the film are emotionally upsetting, but there is also a sweet innocence at play. Jian acts like a typical adolescent -- surly, angry with his parents, shy with girls, audacious and impetuous one minute, and then needy and contrite the next. In one scene, as a group of punks chase two boys through a an older section of Beijing; one says to the other, "What are you doing? This doesn't concern you." The other replies, "I don't know my way out." In today's new China, caught between the traditions of an ancient culture and the new urban reality, young people are having trouble finding their way out.

In Bertrand Tavernier's It All Starts Today (1999) Philippe Torreton plays Daniel Lefebvre, a tough but compassionate teacher and principal in the école maternelle, a pre-school program open to children ages 2 to 6. He teaches in northern France in a town that has been hit hard by the closure of the coal mine, and where unemployment is over 30 percent.

The children are the stars of the picture. Their faces and loving smiles shine through their grim circumstances. Based on the notebooks of Tavernier's son-in-law Dominique Sampiero, a provincial teacher, the film is about the problems of children, but is also a tribute to the courage and generosity of teachers. When Daniel uncovers alcoholism, neglectful parents, and filthy housing conditions in the district, he comes up against government regulations that seem to work against the assistance of nurses, doctors, social workers, and even the Mayor. Violations of regulations go uncorrected because of a shortage of personnel and inadequate funding. The film shows the teacher's struggle to shake the political bureaucracy into providing adequate programs to tackle the problems. He wants to concentrate on teaching, but is forced to fight against budget cuts, insensitive bureaucrats, and irresponsible parents. He does so with strength and commitment but never neglects his duties to the school or the children.

Lefebvre is full of anger and expresses this fully, especially in the scene where he slams the door in the face of a visiting social worker, but he is hardest on himself when things turn out badly. He blames himself for the tragedy that befalls an alcoholic mother and her family, and the troubles of his girlfriend's son, who joins with a group of neighborhood rowdies to trash the school. His relationship with his sculptor girlfriend Valeria (Maria Pitarresi) brings him comfort and gives him the strength to carry on. He also expresses his emotions in his poetry, and this adds a touch of lyricism to the film. Lefebvre writes in his journal, "We'll tell our children it was hard. Piles of stones placed one by one. We'll tell the children it was hard, but their fathers were lords and this is their legacy. A pile of stones and the courage to lift them."

Tavernier shows us the conditions as they exist, without idealizing the poor or romanticizing their circumstances. This is a message film and we do get the message repeatedly, but it doesn't seem preachy because it comes from a passion that springs naturally from the characters. The problems of the school are severe, but not exaggerated. Being the husband of a pre-school teacher, I know the kinds of difficulties faced by parents and teachers first-hand. Although there is no malnutrition in my wife's pre-school, there is nonetheless abuse, along with developmental and behavioral problems that are similar to those in the film. There are no simple solutions, but there is room for hope and the upbeat ending does not feel tacked-on just to alleviate the pain. By all considerations, It All Starts Today should be depressing but, at the conclusion, I felt lightness and joy. Being around children and adults with courage will do that.

©2003 Howard Schumann
CineScene