White Lies and Red Dresses
By Adam Lancaster, April 25, 2002
Director Zhang Yibai's special effects of the heart in the big spring movie release
A few weeks into the production of his début film, director Zhang Yibai was asked how the story ends. "I really don't know," the lightly bearded director said flippantly, slouching back in his chair, headphones slung around his neck.
The answer wasn't as frivolous as it first appeared, however: "The ending we have now wasn't in the script," explained Zhang. "We pretty much created it in the editing room. It's fairly ambiguous, and you can't really be sure if it's real or just imagined."
White Lies and Red Dresses
In fact, the director and his crew had three different endings in mind when they started work on feature film Spring Subway (Kaiwan chuntian de ditie 开往春天的地铁). A veteran TV and music video director, 38-year old Zhang teamed up with screenwriter and producer Liu Fendou (one of the scribes behind Shower and Spicy Love Soup) to bring the story of a rocky seven-year marriage as it teeters on the verge of either ending or being transformed to China's movie screens.
At the center of Spring Subway is a white lie: Jian Bin, played by Geng Le (In The Heat of the Sun) has been unemployed for three months but cannot bring himself to tell his wife, portrayed by teen idol Xu Jinglei (Spicy Love Soup). He is quickly reaching the end of a dwindling savings account, but continues to hide the truth from his college sweetheart and wife of seven years by pretending to trudge off to work each day, clad in suit and tie, dutifully toting a briefcase.
The immediately likable Jian marks time by literally traveling in circles around the subway. "Geng Le is nothing like the parts he's played in previous films," says Zhang. "He usually plays a really cool, handsome, outgoing figure." Unlike his characters in works like Restless and Beijing Rocks, in Spring Subway, says Zhang, "he's very introverted and sensitive, a guy not easily able to express himself."
Zhang's directions to Geng included asking him to play a character closer to the 31-year-old actor's own personality. "I wanted him to bring out the introverted, shy side of himself that I find very charming and modern qualities in a man," he explains.
The movie, says Zhang, is about the difficulty of truly expressing oneself. The central couple can only communicate by discussing mundane, everyday matters such as the rent, a broken faucet, and what's on TV. A second couple communicates through an intense barrage of language. And a third couple, at the most passionate phase of their relationship, never shares a single word. "Emotionally, these characters' worlds are turned upside down," says Zhang. "The couple who should be talking to each other can't bring themselves to speak. The two who don't have much to say to each other are inundated with things to say. And the couple that is in fact most perfect for each other really can't talk."
A former drama student and graduate in playwriting from the Central Academy of Drama, Zhang Yibai placed considerable weight on the duration and quality of rehearsal time. Using a solid three-week period prior to shooting, he asked his actors to partake in rehearsals that went far beyond the usual script readings and discussions.
"For an entire week, I had Geng Le spend every day in the subway," recalls Zhang. "I wouldn't let him out. I sent an assistant director along with a DV camera, and told Geng Le he had to stay down there until he couldn't stand it anymore. I felt that this was the only way he'd be able to really succeed in creating this role."
As well as serving as a metaphor for Jiang's life, the subway is also where the subplots of Spring Subway intersect and amplify the main story: the tragedy of a woman in a red floral dress plants the seeds of redemption for several other characters, including Jian Bin; a date is made and broken, for a reason that is surprisingly romantic; and a game of soccer is played with an empty soft-drink can.
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