Long Day’s Journey Into Night movie review: Gan Bi's film is a cinematic experience unlike any other

Language: Mandarin You emerge from a theatrical screening of Long Day’s Journey Into Night (LDJIN) in a glorious daze, as if crawling out of a cocoon on all fours, almost immediately wearied by the harsh light of a world that momentarily appears new, or different at the very least. In his superlative new film, Gan Bi concocts a world that appears ephemeral, timeless and endless, all at once. A swooning, wearisome aspect hangs languidly above everything and everyone in the movie; even the title isn’t spared. The characters, instead of merely appearing in the narrative, seem to plunge into a pool of time and memory, spending the rest of the film wading through it — and not without effort — slowly to the end. A soft, firefly-like glow throbs through individual frames, the light seemingly travelling thousands of miles before arriving in front of us. So it’s unsurprising that the film wanders more than moves, meandering and spiraling, and once we are encouraged to put on our 3D glasses midway through the film, it pulls us down gently towards the rich, darkening depths of its mysteries. You turn into a butterfly hanging on to the skirt of a dervish as he whirls deeper and deeper into time. [caption id=“attachment_5510931” align=“alignnone” width=“825”] A still from Long Day’s Journey Into Night. Image via Twitter[/caption] In sum, LDJIN is an experience first and foremost, conjured by a director committed to the purity of cinema, the magical confluence of sound and image. Confounding as it may sound, everything else remains secondary. Gan expects surrender from his audience, an empty cup that he gradually and painstakingly fills with poetry, light, music and magic, all sumptuous and breathtaking. Much has been made of the near hour-long single, unbroken shot — a Gan Bi signature — that brings the film to an end. Unfortunately, it seems to have drawn attention away from the wholesome aspect of the film. While it deserves all the plaudits coming its way, it must be taken as part of the magnificent experience that is LDJIN. Narratively, Gan Bi borrows the bare bones of the noir before leading the characters and the audience astray. Think of the film as a gloriously filmed longueur, a significant segment of the film fundamentally a dream that drops in on us during a leisurely afternoon nap. Not unlike his excellent debut film (Kaili Blues), Gan Bi weans his amateur detective character away from the city to his hometown of Kaili. His quest seems as existential as it is ridiculous, romantic and wishful: looking for a woman he once loved. Simply put, a man plunging into his past. But since you can’t cross the same river twice, the dive into the caverns of memory takes him through a parade of associations, wanton characters, things, sights and smells that sculpted him within time. LDJIN can be construed as a love story, or a film that goes looking for one love story and ends up stumbling upon another. The protagonist sleepwalks through the events of the film, trusting everyone he meets, especially the women and children, doing their bidding without registering a complaint. During his journey, Gan Bi offers some of the most stunning images and memorable sound design that you’d encounter this year. The director seems to have submitted to the overweening, confounding power of time and humbly constructs a world that pays obeisance to it. But lodged within its magnificent aspect are tiny chuckles, flights of imagination and prayers so poignant and moving that the film ends up affirming the transient beauty of life with a renewed vigour for the spellbound audience. LDJIN has the apposite visage of art in a world whose reality is crushed and bruised every passing day. Before the film was about to be released at Cannes this year, I discovered a poster for the film during a random online jaunt. It depicted a man holding on to the hand of a woman who seems to be floating towards the sky against a distinctly rural background. It was eerily reminiscent of Marc Chagall’s paintings, all of which are obsessed with untethered flights of the imagination. It is an airy, dreamlike and mischievous quality that is reflected in the film. Quite like lovemaking, a great majority of LDJIN takes place at night. So you feel like you’ve gingerly stepped onto a stranger’s secret, but the airy aspect keeps you distant from any guilt emanating from that act. The director is at pains to communicate that his film doesn’t wish to engage with reality, or if it does, only in the manner of a haiku. He eagerly wishes for you to dissolve into your seat inside the theatre, to be in turn replaced with someone else who picks up from where you left off. LDJIN is an almost unbearably beautiful film that seems like the last snapshot of the horizon you carry down with you as you drown. Dictated by its own dream logic emanating from desire, love and half-filled spaces, it occasionally smoulders, often floats and flies, but never fails to mesmerise. It is the theatrical film viewing experience of the year and the best film I’ve had the privilege of viewing for a long time. Unfortunately, a great majority of you will have to watch it on smaller screens, since a theatrical release seems impossible. The most talked about sequence of the film is in 3D — and for once justifies the format with elan — and only those with 3D televisions will manage to get a glimpse of the barrage of beauty that LDJIN unleashed in the theatre. In case, you are close to a theatre showing this film, drop everything else and sleepwalk into it. You will come out transformed.