It is hard to put into words to describe Bi Gan’s Resurrection. This is the first film from Bi Gan that I have watched so I didn’t know what to expect from him as a filmmaker. All I knew going into the film was its reception from Cannes. Now having watched the film and sitting on it for over a week, Bi Gan’s Resurrection isn’t your conventional film. Instead of having a clear, cohesive narrative, Gan chooses to go into the direction of our dreams as he delivers an ambitious, maximalist and dazzling, cinematic odyssey through dreams, life and cinema itself.
In a world where humanity has lost the ability to dream, one creature, called a Fantasmer (Jackson Yee) remains entranced by the fading illusions of the dreamworld. This monster, adrift in reverie, clings to visions no one else can see, until a woman appears, Miss Shu (Shu Qi). A gifted Big Other, with the rare power to perceive these illusions for what they are, she chooses to enter the monster’s dreams, determined to uncover the truth that lies hidden within them.
Resurrection isn’t your conventional film. Hell, it’s not even a conventional arthouse film. The narrative unfolds over six distinct arcs, with each having their own language, genres, visuals and themes. The first five represent the five senses; sight, sound, taste, smell, and touch. While the short epilogue represents the mind and the culminations of the five previous arcs. Can I tell you the meaning of each one of these plots? I don’t think so, but this is Bi Gan we are talking about so interpretation is beside the point. It’s about the vibe, the drift, the feeling of it all.
The first arc, the strongest of the six, follows Lady Shu in her search for the Fantasmer. Blending the shadowed intensity of German Expressionism with the vibrant colors of Powell and Pressburger, the opening arc is a love letter to the early, silent days of cinema. A score that swells and shimmers, beautifully intricate dollhouse like-sets, and a creature design that is a matchup between Nosferatu and Quasimodo, this opening arc is pure cinematic enchantment, as you are whisked away to a bygone cinematic era.
The second arc shifts its gaze to sound, immersing us in a wartime spy-noir thriller set during the Second World War China, with fedoras, trains and cigarette smoke included. We hear bombs dropping in the distance, glass shattering overhead, we are audibly immersed into this neo-noir landscape where a briefcase allegedly causes men to go mad and to make themselves deaf to save themselves from their thoughts.
The third arc turns to taste, as the Fantasmer is confined to an abandoned Buddhist temple, high in the wintery mountains as he is being haunted by the Spirit of Bitterness (Chen Yongzhong), who has been hiding in his rotten tooth. It unfolds like a twisted Chinese folktale, filled with deceivers and sprites, toying with doomed mortals. The fourth arc shifts to smell and turns into a fable of its own. The Fantasmer trains a young girl (Guo Mucheng), pretending to be her daughter, to identify the scent of a single chosen playing card in the efforts to dupe a billionaire looking for someone with supernatural abilities. Both of these chapters, though imaginative in concept, end up being the weakest of the six.
While the fifth act, devoted to touch, is drenched in the romantic aesthetics of Wong Kar-wai. Set on New Years Eve,1999, we follow the Fantasmer as a hoodlum who has fallen for a girl (Li Gengxi), only to discover she isn’t an ordinary girl, but a vampire working for her bloodthirsty masters. What follows is a 40-minute, un-broken long take that is filled with fistfights, shootouts, time-lapses and a karaoke jam session. It’s kinetic, sensual, and deliriously alive. It’s a visual symphony that ranks as some of the most breathtaking feats of filmmaking in recent memory.
While the strengths of the arcs may fluctuate, together they create a cinematic tapestry of life that is both cosmic and intimate. A reminder as to why cinema exists in the first place. Resurrection is less of a story, but more of a sensory, cinematic experience, that weaves the textures of life into every frame. Bi Gan doesn’t just craft beautiful images; he resurrects the idea that film is supposed to be an emotional and spiritual experience. For all of its abstraction and vibes, the film pulses with humanity and the celebration of the cinematic art.
My Rating: A-
Coming soon to theaters
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