PlatformAndrew Howe
At a time when Chinese cinema is finally achieving a certain level of international recognition, Platform is exactly what the industry doesn't need. It's a featureless, tedious exercise in impenetrability, and for anyone who's in the mood for another Raise the Red Lantern or Ju Dou it's 155 minutes of shattered expectations. Critics occasionally cut foreign films a little slack, believing that they should be judged by a different set of standards to those applied to products issuing from the Hollywood production line, especially if they are not obviously aimed at an international market. Those who subscribe to this notion might therefore applaud Platform's depiction of the colourless existence endured by Chinese citizens in the 1980's, for it leaves little doubt as to what it meant to be young and restless in a society where tradition was colliding with the fallout from the Cultural Revolution. However, if I wanted a narrow study in cultural anthropology I'd pick up a textbook, which would provide a similar level of enjoyment and considerably more insight. Platform concerns a troupe of amateur theatre performers on the road to nowhere. Tiring of plays which spout the Party line, they embrace pop music and hit the highway to take their message to the world. Eventually they realise that (a) their enthusiasm far exceeds their talents; and (b) their target audience is too busy eking out an existence to give a damn about the empty promises of rock 'n' roll, so they find themselves back where they started, somewhat the worse for wear and tear. This sounds like the makings of an affecting, insightful film, but writer/director Zhang Ke Jia lacks either the skill or the motivation to make it so. Despite the film's ridiculously extended 155 running-time (apparently a 195 minute cut exists, which would try the patience of Job), it is impossible to gain any kind of investment in the characters, since they spend most of their time indulging in banal, meaningless conversations. Ke Jia wants us to feel their boredom, and in this he succeeds admirably: the film features absolutely nothing in the way of pathos, poignancy, involving characters or relationships, humour, thought-provoking philosophy or dramatic tension. Even the commentary on the clash of youth culture and the authoritarian regime is surprisingly muted - the protagonists appear to be the Chinese equivalent of the Beat generation, finding their place in society rather than fighting against oppression, which ensures that there is precious little action or injustice to spice up the mix. To make matters worse, Ke Jia seems intent on filming his characters from the wrong side of a corner, in the dark, from the nearest mountaintop - anywhere, in fact, that will ensure you can't see the expressions on their faces (you can count the number of close-up's in the entire film on one hand). This further enhances their status as ciphers and, combined with the static scenes and listless dialogue, makes it virtually impossible for the actors to make any kind of impact on the viewer (in any event, it appears that most of the actors have been lifted from the production crew of Ke Jia's previous film, which raises some doubt as to their credibility in the field). Ke Jia also continues to shoot many scenes long after a normal editor would have snipped the film - why he felt the need to treat us to such unforgettable cinematic moments as sixty seconds of a girl standing by a wall is a question only he can answer (or answer for, depending on how you look at it). I normally try to end negative reviews by mentioning something positive, but in this instance the kindest thing I can say is that Ke Jia perfectly captures the drab, meaningless existence of his creations. I saw this film with a hardcore festival crowd, and it prompted the largest number of walk-out's and the most desultory applause I have witnessed in some thirty festival screenings. That might be a little hard on Ke Jia, since it's obvious he thought he had something important to say, and for all I know the film might speak volumes to a home-country crowd. However, for the rest of us he would have done well to remember the fate of the acting troupe in question: if you ignore your audience, your audience will ignore you.
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