If the effect of Edward Yang’s final feature was to be summarised by one moment in it, this quote is a pretty apt one:
“Movies are so lifelike – that’s why we love them. My Uncle says that we live three times as long since man invented movies; it means movies give us twice what we get from daily life.”
Yi Yi (2000) has long been heralded as the magnum opus of the acclaimed Taiwanese director’s career, and with its recent addition to the Criterion Collection, its legacy continues to cement itself. A film that is both epic and intimate, about both family and isolation, and that tells the story of young and old simultaneously, it’s easy to see how it has enraptured so many around the world over the years.
The film follows the Jian family over the course of one year, beginning at a wedding and ending at a funeral. Early on, the family’s matriarch (Tang Ru-Yun) suffers a stroke and falls into a coma. You may think that the film will centre around this, and the invitation to the family members to sit by her bedside and talk to her about their lives. However, this isn’t the focal point. As you soon realise with Yi Yi, every time you believe that a plot will become the main one, it never does. Every time you think you know what the film is about, it surprises you. In this way, it is one of the purest depictions of daily life to be put to film. Life happens to the family and around them.
That is not to say that nothing happens in this film, by any means. Whether it’s the story of NJ (Wu Nien-Jen), the father of the family, reconnecting with his college girlfriend Sherry (Su-Yun Ko) while trying to find purpose and meaning in his company’s trade deals, or daughter Ting-Ting (Kelly Lee) experiencing her first taste of romance. However, one of the most prescient arcs is that of the youngest member of the troop, Yang-Yang (Jonathan Chang), who at eight years old, is just trying to get answers to the big questions in life. (“You can’t see what I see and I can’t see what you see. So how can I know what you see? Daddy, can we only know half the truth?”)
As with many ensemble films, it’s hard to get the balance right between each player, and at times Yi Yi spends more time dwelling on one character than we might appreciate. However, this in itself continues to play into the honesty of the depiction of daily life, with unexpected circumstances often taking up more of our time than we care for. The longer runtime, verging on three hours, can pull slowly at times, but Edward Yang uses this to give delicate care to each of these characters’ inner lives, inviting us to feel deep compassion and tenderness for each of them.
The cinematic sense of space is not just established by the pacing, but through Yang Wei-Han’s extraordinary cinematography, which places the family as small fragments in the sprawling cityscapes of Taipei and Tokyo. There is a curiosity about the world present in every shot, and much like Yang Yang taking photos of the backs of people’s heads, Yi Yi is shot in a way that asks viewers to see life through alternative perspectives.
Its contemplative tone will not be everybody’s cup of tea, as it definitely is a slow burn. However, it remains a film that everyone should see at least once, as a lesson in observational filmmaking, radical empathy, and introspection.
4K Ultra HD Blu-Ray Special Features
- Audio Commentary featuring writer-director Edward Yang and Asian Cinema critic Tony Rayns
- Interview with Rayns about Yang and the New Taiwan Cinema movement
- U.S. theatrical trailer
- Original English subtitle translation by Yang and Rayns
- Plus: An essay by critic Kent Jones and notes from the director
Yi Yi is out on 4K + Blu-ray as part of the Criterion Collection from 19 January.
