| If, for some strange reason, our commander-in-chief
ever needs to assemble a coalition of the willing to ensure
that Americans are not the only ones making tender coming-of-age
films with a treacly family-values patina, it appears he may
be able to count on the Chinese. Together, the latest
from director Chen Kaige (Farewell, My Concubine)
proves that as long as parents and children love each other,
we Americans should have nothing to fear from our communist
brethren.
Thirteen-year-old Xiaochun (Tang) possesses a prodigious
talent as a violinist. His father Cheng (Liu) is determined
to see him achieve great success, despite their modest means
and unconventional single-father family. The pair leave behind
their provincial town and head for the bustle and challenges
of Beijing. In the capital, father and son have one or two
wacky adventures that underscore their bumpkinesque lack of
big-city ways, but the film is not about their adjustment
to the new life. Instead, it focuses on Xiaochun himself,
who, at a very young age, is faced with choices that will
largely determine the kind of life he will have as an adult.
Perhaps the most significant choice is how he wishes to express
himself through music. Cheng persuades a renowned violinist
to teach his son, and Xiaochun begins his studies with Professor
Jhiang (Wang). With his Einsteinian hair and obsession
with his kittens, the teacher resembles the brooding, melancholy
intellectual stereotype (Sean Connery in Finding
Forrester) more than the wild-eyed professor one (Christopher
Lloyd in Back To The Future), but he is somewhat
of a stock character nonetheless. Insisting that Xiaochun
only play the violin when it makes him happy, Jhiang seems
more interested in teaching Xiaochun about the place of music
within a complete life than teaching technical virtuosity.
But his Karate Kid training regimen consists of getting
his teacher’s socks out from under the bed rather than actually
playing the violin, and soon Xiaochun’s attention starts to
wander. Specifically, he befriends an attractive older neighbor,
Lili (Chen). Lili’s life revolves around her suitors,
their money, and the clothes it can buy. Nonetheless, she
has a heart of gold (sigh) and really cares for Xiaochun,
who becomes rather enamored of her and her lifestyle. Meanwhile,
the boy’s father is impatient with the training regimen of
Professor and the lack of immediate success, and moves Xiaochun
to another teacher. Professor Yu (played by director Chen)
is cold, self-absorbed, and manipulative, but believes that
he can make Xiaochun a star. When the student moves in with
Professor Yu, at the latter’s request, the boy realizes he
is at a major crossroads in his life. His relationships to
family, music, and his home are all coming into conflict while
simultaneously his infatuation with Lili adds newly emerging
feelings of love and sexuality into an already confusing mix.
Though Chen has claimed that Together exemplifies
and dramatizes the shift in Chinese attitudes about art as
that nation increasingly moves toward a market economy, the
film never really transcends “feel-good movie” status. Neither
the plot nor its resolution offer any surprises, and few of
the characters make any lasting impression. At a solid two
hours, the movie tends to drag near the end, and could have
been tightened up significantly. But the film is not without
merit: It is thoroughly charming, the performances are uniformly
good, and the music is a joy to hear. (The kid actually plays
the violin, though it is not his playing that you hear in
the movie.) Furthermore, the visuals of Beijing are fascinating
to those who, like me, might be relatively untraveled Americans.
Together is as difficult to pan as it is to recommend.
While a pleasant enough experience, it leaves the feeling
that it wanted to offer something more than the banal paeans
to family, home, and loving-what-you-do that its title suggests.
—Mike O’Connor
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