Time can be a funny thing. Looking back into the past, seeing who were were, remembering who we loved, what we were doing at a particular state of mind. These things that we held so critically dear to our heart may not have the same meaning when you look at it from a new perspective years later. The same can be said in regards to familial relationships and romantic partners, as hard as that is sometimes to fathom. How can one possible fall out of touch with a loved one? What are the consequences of actions twenty years prior, and how does that shape who we are, and who we become in the future? These are all some of the many themes that Chinese filmmaker Zhangke Jia touches on in a beautiful touching manner in his ambitious new epic, Mountains May Depart.
Starting in 1999 we see the complicated love triangle set between three friends: Tao (Tao Zhao), who is the love interest of both Liangzi (Jing Dong Liang), a lower class coal miner who is kind and sweet, and Zhang (Yi Zhang), a cocky big shot due to his rising success is the coal business. We witness their friendship dissolve as the two battle it out for Tao’s affection. Tao slowly falls for Zhang, even though there’s also an unresolved degree of romantic tension between her and Liangzi as well. Zhang becomes colder to Liangzi realizing the rivalry, and as always when it comes to love triangles, it doesn’t end well.
We jump to 2014 and learn that the budding romance between Tao and Zhang wasn’t meant to be, but she did get to keep custody of her child, who they uniquely named Dollar. She comes to visit Liangzi who disappeared after he lost her to his former friend, only to find out that he is in poor deteriorating health because of his work in the coalmines. She’s forced to confront the past in her present and realize that she probably chose the wrong man, even if she was blessed with the gift of a child. We’ve all made mistakes in life, and it’s hard not to watch the film unfold and be hit with a wave of emotions from our own previous romantic encounters and decisions, and see a bit of ourselves in reflection. There’s universality on hand that is captured with telling emotional force by Jia that is hard to shake.
The third and final act is the decisive one that will undoubtedly make or break the film for you. We jump to 2025, and now the focus is on Tao’s son Dollar, all grown up at a prestigious school in Australia, where English is his first language, and his Chinese is almost all gone. This doesn’t go over well with his father whom he lives with, and language serves as the barrier that prevents them from having a good relationship, among many other reasons over the years. The themes hit especially hard in this act, even if it is a bit disjointing to be pushed that far ahead in the timeline with a brand new character.
There’s a distinct and powerful naturalism that Jia uses here to connect with the audiences emotions, letting it all play out in a human fashion that hit me particularly hard. As a child of divorce, and of a mother of Chinese heritage, I saw a lot of my own life in this film, especially through the eyes of Dollar in the final act. No matter the reason, the themes of Mountains May Depart resonated in a way that I didn’t expect. Leaving me feeling a wide range of emotions that are so hard to come by when watching film these days. For that, I thank Mr. Zhangke Jia for providing me with such a rich and rewarding experience.
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