‘Cu Li Never Cries’ REVIEW: Gripping Personal Histories
‘Cu Li Never Cries’ REVIEW: Gripping Personal Histories
Mrs. Nguyen (Minh-Châu) sharing a dance with a waiter in a club she frequents (Hoàng-Hà) | Still taken from IMDb
Pham Ngoc Lan opens Cu Li Never Cries with a shot of progress: under construction train lines and the cold, reflective voiceover of an old lady later revealed as the main character Mrs. Nguyen. The film will tell her history in spurts, and only in brief passages that reveal so much about her life. Cu Li Never Cries unveils itself as history being a tapestry of experiences, a style of cinema that can be cumbersome yet delivers in sentimentality and emotion.
Aunt Nguyen, the film’s main character, returns from her husband’s funeral, with a semi-broken urn and a pygmy slow loris in tow. These are her last vestiges of history with her past life, and much of the film is her way of clinging to this previous life. The film does shake things up a bit, as Ms. Nguyen also happens to be the caretaker to her niece, Van. Where the aunt is dealing with her new life as a widow, Van prepares to live her life as a bride-to-be.
Much of the film is carved in slow and cautious scenes. There’s a clear passage of time that is appended by the gorgeous assembly of black-and-white. Such is the way in which Pham Ngoc Lan wants the film to grapple with history on a technical scale: in monochromatic visuals and a distaste for brief shots. Aunt Nguyen confronts her own past in this regard, and the film becomes hauntingly beautiful for it.
The style itself is quite familiar for certain people. Think Jia Zhangke’s works or Lou Ye’s Suzhou River for the Vietnamese crowd. A lot of the film tends to bring up artifacts, media, or stories that harken to parts of Vietnam’s history, especially as a country shaped by the aftermath of the Vietnam War. Specific to Ms. Nguyen is the fact that her history is confined to a pygmy, a living and breathing animal that does not emote, feel sadness, and never cries.
Groom Quang (Ngô Xuân An) and Bride Van (Ha-Phuong) share a picture together | Still taken from Square Eyes
Cu Li Never Cries breathes life through its environment. Despite being black-and-white in style, a lot of the film still manages to feel lush and soft to the eyes. There’s an incredible portion in the film that draws attention to the form and function of the Hòa Bình Dam, and the way water flows and moves visually. It borders on an experience so incredibly touching and tender to the soul.
There is a brief tendency for the film’s shortcomings to emerge. The film adds a uniquely comedic and silly touch, supported by how it develops the concurrent story about Aunt Nguyen’s niece and her husband-to-be. The problem is that it sometimes runs in conflict with the tone of Nguyen’s loneliness. It somewhat develops into a subplot that disrupts the contemplative aspect of the film.
Something to consider here is that the film is sometimes concerned with framing the story as two opposed, but similarly pointed stories between Van and Nguyen. It’s a welcome attempt that sees Cu Li Never Cries as a multi-faceted examination of a woman as they enter and exit a familial bond. However, it often hampers on that front instead of complementing Nguyen’s loneliness.
That being said, Cu Li Never Cries is still considerably sorrowful. Its elegance cannot be disregarded, with how the ghosts of history loom by and large around its characters. The film is almost like a faded memory, a transformed picture difficult to fully remember.
Cu Li Never Cries is part of QCinema 2024’s lineup as part of the New Horizons competition.
