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UNIFORM
5/10
Zhifu
: China (Hong Kong) 2003 : DIAO Yinan : 94 mins
The idea of
a sad-sack loser acquiring a new confidence by impersonating a cop isn't
a new one - the most notable recent cinematic example is David Wellington's
Canadian feature I Love A Man in Uniform which garnered widespread
theatrical distribution in 1993. Now young Chinese writer-director Diao
takes the material down somewhat different avenues with his first feature,
shot (by Dong Jinsong) on cheap-looking DigiBeta video.
Wang Xiaojian
(Liang Hongli) is an unremarkable single man in his early twenties, a
resident of Shaanxi province's major city (and former Chinese capital)
Xi'an. Having recently been laid off following the closure of the local
enamel factory, he helps out his mother with her small laundry business
- dad is a bed-ridden, near-catatonic oldster. Wang's fortunes start to
take an unexpected turn for the better when a cop drops off his uniform
shirt for ironing. When the cop fails to pick it up the next day, Wang
takes it to his apartment only to be told by a neighbour that the policeman
has been injured in a traffic accident. Walking home, Wang's clothes are
drenched in a sudden rainstorm. He impulsively changes into the police
shirt - and soon finds that his new guise has its advantages, not least
in his wooing of shop-assistant Zheng Shasha (Zeng Shuoquing). But Wang
isn't the only one harbouring a secret identity...
The English-language
subtitling for Uniform was done by Tony Rayns, the Anglophone world's
leading authority on far-eastern cinema. His work is as solid as his reputation
would suggest - but there's one amusing Freudian slip when Wang extorts
some cash out of a trucker transporting a consignment of melons. Having
pocketed an on-the-spot fine, Wang asks the driver to "give me a
lift." Except what appears on-screen is "give me a life,"
and 'getting a life' is of course exactly what happens to our inexpressive
'hero' when he accidentally stumbles into his new identity as stern authority-figure.
Chinese cops,
we soon learn, inspire rather more in the way of fear and awe than their
Canadian counterparts in I Love a Man in Uniform: it's the norm
for officers to get those they've apprehended to "kneel" before
them (though the action itself is in fact closer to squatting). And of
course, as China is a famously repressive police-state, the whole cop-impersonating
idea takes on levels of political resonance which Wellington's film eschewed
in favour of psychological explorations (Diao is closer to Argentinian
entry El Bonaerense,
which took the concept further by in effect having a cop impersonating
a cop).
The idea of
an illicit, underground production (and this is clearly not the kind of
opulent, patriotic picture to find favour with the current administration)
being made under the noses of the very cops it depicts is clearly an appealing
one, and Diao's use of his hometown Xi'an settings are emphatically Uniform's
strongest suit. Dong's visuals are suitably rough-and-ready, but it's
the sound design - credited to Zhang Yang - which really stands out, making
evocative use of a wide range of "found" background noise such
as machinery, traffic and trains, including one especially striking sequence
set to the accompaniment of a level crossing's steady warning-beep. This
all provides a convincingly raw, you-are-there backdrop to what is, unfortunately,
a decidedly underpowered and somewhat soporific "plot," which
builds to a predictably ironic - if nicely handled - climax as justice
finally catches up with the opportunistic Wang (who identifies himself
to real officers as a member of the "Beilin Squad" - perhaps
"Blazin'
Squad" might have been a better option).
By this stage
many viewers may have tired of the feckless Wang, who reveals increasingly
unpleasant sides to his character as he settles into his "cop"
role - he ends up wearing a full police uniform, though the circumstances
by which he obtains this get-up are frustratingly opaque. This ellipsis
is one of numerous instances where Diao strains for 'arty' effects - the
score is sparing but haphazardly interjected (incongruous single drum-cracks
abound) and the director certainly isn't afraid of slowing down the 'action'
to the point where low-key lo-fi ends up being no-key no-fi, as if torpor
itself were some guarantee of film-making seriousness: it's notable that
the most effective scene, in which Zheng is roughly handled by a pair
of thugs, is both the most kinetic in the picture and also one of the
few where Wang isn't around. The presence of eminent Chinese movie names
Jia Zhang-Ke and Yu Lik-Wai - credited as "artistic advisors"
is another example of the way Diao cloaks himself in garb befitting a
'proper' arthouse director - but as Uniform itself reminds us,
this doesn't mean we necessarily have to squat down in meek submission.
1st November,
2004
[seen 28th October 2004 : ICA London : public show - London
Film Festival]
by Neil
Young
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