|
Review
by Kozo: |
Looking
for a good, life-affirming time at the movies? If so, The
Runaway Pistol should be avoided like the plague. This
low-budget indie from frequent Fruit Chan collaborator Lam
Wah-Cheun is part art film, part social critique, and all
emotional downer. Still, this pessismistic argument for gun
control possesses an interesting narrative and a darkly satisfying
sense of humor. As intriguing cinema, this film gets high
marks, but don't expect any warm fuzzies.
The film follows a number of
characters as they each take possession of the eponymous pistol,
an aged revolver which apparently has been through numerous
decades and on various continents. At first it's claimed by
a Nepalese man who takes it from his housekeeper girlfriend.
He then sells it to a low-level triad, who wants it for his
boss. However, those plans are never met. After claiming the
life of a mainland sex worker, the gun falls into the hands
of a Hong Kong masseuse/prostitute (filmmaker Barbara Wong
Chun-Chun). She toys with killing her debt-ridden boyfriend
(director Wilson Yip), leading to the possibility that the
gun may claim his, her or even some innocent bystander's life
by random association.
All this isn't the gun's fault—we're
told this directly via voiceover, which to no one's surprise
is the inner voice of the gun itself! It's quick to tell us
that it's not responsible for the killing. Nope, it gets handed
from person to person, place to place, circumstance to circumstance.
Sometimes it takes a life, sometimes it doesn't. The individual
scenes are vignettes of varying lengths; sometimes the gun's
effect on a life is larger than on others. Sometimes it's
quick, imaginary, or briefly threatening. And not once is
our friend, Mr. Runaway Pistol, ever really responsible. Like
guns in real life, the effect the runaway pistol achieves
depends largely on the person that comes into possession with
it. Were it found by Charlton Heston, he'd probably melt it
for scrap. The guy has better guns anyway.
But NRA members and the happy-go-lucky
are not the recipients of the gun. The runaway pistol carves
its way through a variety of desperate individuals: triads,
prostitutes, cuckolded husbands, jilted lovers and a pair
of mainland thieves. Why each person does what they do with
the gun is not always explained. Sometimes the situations
strain credibility, but the there is an undeniable morbid
fascination to where the gun goes and who it touches. The
results can be tragic, morbid, pathetically fitting or simply
mildly unfortunate. That the vignettes vary in depth and length
gives the film an enthralling cinematic feel. Getting drawn
into The Runaway Pistol is not hard.
However, there's one thing absolutely
the same about each and every one of the gun's stories. In
each vignette, nothing good ever happens. There is no affirmation
of justice, just cruel irony and sometimes a lingering karma.
Society is the target for Lam Wah-Cheung's pen, camera and
other assorted weapons (Lam directed, wrote, shot and probably
distributed the movie personally). This is apparent through
the variety of victims, who vary in social standing and place
of origin (the gun travels from Hong Kong to Shenzen, among
other places), and in Lam's narrative choices. He uses the
television news as sometimes ironic counterpoint, always managing
to remind us that society is full of greed, stupidity, dumb
luck, cruel fate and the power of the lowest common denominator.
Life sucks, and the gun's journey is a potent reminder of
that.
Which is where the film loses
track of itself. Since the film starts downbeat and never
wavers, any sense of surprise gets relegated to minor narrative
choices. And after a while, even those get predictable. Lam's
crossing and shifting of locations and stories may be enthralling,
but it renders the film's punches into a series of same-feeling
jabs. Time and time again, we get reminded that there are
no winners here, and yet everybody and nobody are simulataneously
to blame. Lam doesn't make any of his characters likable—a
fitting decision because average everyday life does not usually
produce charismatic, winning individuals—but that unrelenting
pessimism gives the film no real place to go. Again, life
sucks. The film tells us, we nod our head, and the cycle begins
again.
As a piece of low-budget filmmaking, The Runaway Pistol is exemplary. There is a genuine
feel to Lam's camera, be it in dirty back alleys or spartan
middle-class apartments. The actors are uniformly authentic,
giving naked performances that don't attempt any meddlesome
subtext or artistry. This film is an almost absurd road trip,
and even with the one-note message and predictable narrative
choices, it manages a rare cinematic feat: it affects. Some
may love the film for its storytelling, others for its authentic
street-level feel. And yet others may hate the film for its
pessimism and lack of redeeming value. It's really hard to
predict what each individual will take from the film, but
it's likely some opinion will be formed. And that's worth
something, isn't it? (Kozo 2003) |
|
