March 21, 2013
Return Ticket - China/Taiwan, 2011
Years from now
when people look back at the sixth generation of Chinese filmmakers, I hope
they look beyond multimillion dollar productions like Confucius and The Founding of
a Republic and focus their attention on the smaller independent films that
were often ignored at the box office. It is these films, films that do not try
to dazzle people with special effects or martial arts action, that truly
capture what it is like to live in these times, which means that the stories
they weave are not always ones people want to see after a long week on the job.
Return Ticket is one of these films.
It is not a plot-driven film, nor does it contain explosions, large armies
engaging in sensational armed conflicts, or Wushu experts doing battle in
midair. Instead, it depicts the daily lives of four individuals who are far
from home and for whom life has not been without hardship. Much of the most
dramatic events in these characters’ lives have already taken place, and most
of what we see involves everyday actions of quiet survival – working a dead-end
job, traveling on bicycle to find a day’s work, bringing something to a loved
one so that we know she is taken care of. As the film progresses, we see
examples of inequality and resilience, of greed and generosity, and of
forgiveness and the often unintentional permanence of spoken words. The film is
a passionate, yet quiet plea for compassion and understanding at a time when
too many people are desperately in need of both.
Return Ticket is the true story of four migrant workers from
Fuyuan, China, who are struggling to make ends meet in Shanghai, a city that
represents opportunity and prestige to many people in the countryside. The film
first introduces us to Cao Li (Hailu Qin), who is returning to Shanghai after a
tumultuous experience running a small business. Upon arriving, she is reunited
with Xie Qing (Qun Tang), an older woman from Fuyuan, from whom Cao rented a room in the past and from
whom she will rent the same room again. It is easy to understand why.
Completing the foursome are Gou (Bin Bin Li) and Jiuzi (Yiquan Shen). Gou would
be a natural leader if he were able to offer anything more than a cleaning job
at a KTV parlor that may or may not be a front for prostitution. In one scene,
we see what one of these rooms looks like after a long session of singing and
drinking, and it’s not the kind of place you would wish on even the rudest of
cleaning ladies. Jiuzi is perhaps the most sympathetic of the group. Mute, he
gets by by passing out fliers and taking odd jobs, and he doesn’t seem to have
much to show for his efforts. However, watching the way he pursues an idea is truly
inspiring.
What little plot
there is in the film involves Cao Li, Gou, and Jiuzi’s attempt to fix up an
old, rundown bus and use it to shuttle Chinese New Year travelers to Fuyuan and
back. In one of the film’s best moments, Cao Li reminds Gou that he doesn’t
have a driver’s license. Let’s see if the trip is a success first, he replies.
Other interactions are equally memorable, and they tell the audience a lot
about the characters and the bond that exists between them. I was particularly
moved by a conversation between Cao Li and her roommate concerning Cao Li’s
father and parents in general. Their words make it clear just how much
miscommunication there is between parents and children, especially when one
expresses their feelings in ways the other is unable to interpret correctly. I
also enjoyed the caustic banter between Gou and Jiuzi. It reminded me that sometimes
sarcasm and the ability to laugh in the face of difficulty are what sustain us.
The film is
directed by Yung-Shing Teng, who, according to IMDB, made a name for himself as
a director of television commercials in China, Taiwan, and Hong Kong. This is
his second film, following his oddly titled 2003 film, Love at 7-11, a film that I have not seen but imagine takes place
in Taiwan. It’s not always easy to get a read on a director from just one film,
yet it seems to me that Teng’s work on commercials has been an asset to him. He
displays a impressive knack for timing, ending some scenes before they have a
chance to become awkward and allowing others to continue a bit after the dialogue
has ended. He seems to understand that his actors can express a great deal by
just looking at the camera. With the exception of Hailu Qin, the cast is made
up of non-professionals making their acting debut, yet they handle themselves
as if they had been appearing in front of the camera all their lives, another
sign of a skilled director.
Like many of the
films I respond to best, Return Ticket
is only a portion of a much longer story, one we will never see. The events in
the film represent a turning point for one of the characters and a new
beginning for a character that actually never appears on screen. However, the
others will return to the lives they had when the film began, albeit a little
wiser for the journey. Life is sometimes like that. The film ends with brief
explanation of what happened on the trip back to Fuyuan. Viewers should not
fret, though; there wasn’t an accident or a devastating tragedy. There was,
however, a humorous incident that I wish had been filmed. And maybe that is
what’s best about Return Ticket: it’s
a compact film that tells a simple and moving story, and when it’s over, it
leaves you longing for more. A nice job, indeed. (on DVD in Region 3)
3 and a half stars
*Return Ticket is in Chinese with occasionally
inaccurate English subtitles.
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