An Elephant Sitting Still is the debut, and unfortunately, the final feature film of Chinese novelist turned director, the late Hu Bo. In October of last year, Hu ended his life at age 29, and Elephant’s posthumous release is a resounding achievement, which I am so grateful has played at the Sydney Film Festival this year. At over four hours, Elephant is by no means light, or easy viewing, but it is an incredible experience; driven by superb performances, haunting cinematography, and a detailed, winding story, it is most certainly one of the most exciting films to have come out of China in recent years, and the product of an intimate, passionate artistic vision.
Set over the course of a single day, Elephant primarily follows the lives of Cheng, Bu, Ling, and Jin, who within this day find themselves tested emotionally, physically, and psychologically, as the emotional weight of presumably years of emotional discomfort come to a head. Their stories become psychologically and eventually narratively interwoven, as a sort of masochistic Rube Goldberg machine that demonstrates the importance of understanding the consequences of one’s actions, and the difficulty in escaping one’s past in search of an almost fantastical future. I cannot give more praise to the performances in this film, Elephant is more than anything else a powerhouse of meditative, sustained acting that is delivered exceptionally well by all the film’s leads, as well as supporting characters such as Li Kai and Ling’s mother. It is clear while watching Elephant that these actors spent days rehearsing together, as they deliver a strong sense of emotional devastation and complexity to their performances, without resorting to unrealistic or unnecessary bouts of crying or screaming; all these characters feel – more than anything else – exhausted at their situation, and the seemingly impossible task of trying to escape it.
The titular elephant, famed for sitting solitarily and placidly in the far northern town of Manzhouli, is a source of hope for these characters; while it remains unexplained as to why, perhaps it embodies that which each of them desire, a dream of solitude and peace, a place of quiet meditation away from the coarseness of everyday life. Generational conflict is a key issue of the film, as Cheng, Bu, and Ling find themselves in constant disagreement with their parents, who have failed to establish for them a safe household; while Jin is turfed out by his son and daughter-in-law, who fail to acknowledge the bond he has with his granddaughter. Indeed, in contemporary China, the rat race of economic stability – particularly in the deprived northern region in which the film is set – often places work and money over family. The dialogue between characters is sparing, and the clever camerawork establishes emotional distance by keeping the characters almost entirely obscured by shadows during tense conversations. Long tracking shots follow our leads as they develop emotionally over the course of the film, snaking along with their narratives as the four become more entwined over the course of the film.
Elephant is not perfect, as to be expected from the tumult of its production – Hu’s parents had to fight for the film to remain as their son intended – its choice of soundtrack is oddly video game-esque; while the lamentable subtitling and some questionable editing elicited some unintended laughter from the audience out of confusion. However, it presents an engaging tapestry of quietly building anger, as we are presented with a world that seems unescapably rotten, and the film levels its critique not at its characters, but at the disconnected way in which the powers that be in China seem to act against the needs of its people. In its epic scale, powerhouse performances, and tightly orchestrated camerawork, An Elephant Sitting Still roars – or perhaps trumpets – with a demand for conscientious social change.
Dylan (18)
An Elephant Sitting Still
Melbourne International Film Festival
Sydney Film Festival