I Love You (2002)

Zhang Yuan

China

97 min, color, Mandarin (English subtitles)

From the first scene we know that we're watching a Wong Kar-Wai style dreamy and illogical (at least not governed by external logic) film. A close-up of two faces. The woman inquires whether the man loves her. Is he sure? Is she the one he's been waiting for since childhood? Will he marry her? It is love. Then, unexpectedly, there is death. The woman is alone. Some time later she meets (again) her dead lover's best friend. A relationship follows. Then a repeat of the initial scene. The dialogue is the same, the woman is the same, only the man is different. An impetuous marriage follows. They move into a cramped dorm apartment. Their love unravels. Shouts. Kisses. More shouts. Fewer kisses. More shouts. Indifference. Fading shouts. We see the two argue vehemently, but they make no sound. Only gestures that convey meaning when the words fail to find it. Indifference. Indifference. An outburst followed by a divorce. A chance encounter that reveals a background history. A separation and a birth. The end.

I Love You is a poetic film and like all good poetry emerges from the gagging dirty and banal world of humdrum everyday survival. The director does not even bother to trace the disintegration of the marriage. Almost from the start the woman's obsessive and controlling character begins to dominate the couple. The man's resistance is pathetic, stupid, and utterly believable. They cannot find the words to settle the seemingly trivial problems between them, fueling an escalatory ladder of anger and resentment. But there is still something underneath. For the anger rarely explodes, and even when violence is near, it never really emerges as a real threat. Strangely, the two do love each other and it is as if they know, at least for a while, that they can afford to bicker, to shout, and to disagree. Their love will keep them together. It will not allow them to drift apart due to minor quarrels. Their love will conquer all.

Alas, this is where fantasy ends and poetry begins. For love is perishable and must be constantly fed and nourished. When indifference sets in, the end is near. Soon, there is no making up after the quarrel. There is even no desire to make up. A cold politeness governs for a while, with almost no strength left to continue. Strangely, the woman refuses to let go although it is obvious even to her that her lover wants to be freed. The final savage outburst leaves him roped and gagged as she goes on a nurse call. Instead of escaping physically, he smashes through the window with his head and, bleeding, escapes the marital bond when she is forced to give him up.

Almost immediately, their relationship improves to the point that they exchange polite words. The parting is sad and tinged with regret at something that could have been and yet neither managed to preserve. Somewhat later, he sees her riding her bicycle against traffic, delirious and suicidal. He cares for her, sleeps with her. There has been love there, and although none of it remains, the sense of caring that it often leaves behind makes his help obligatory.

When it is revealed that she suffers from a genetic psychological disorder, her fate is all the more pitiful and full of pathos. Her screams that tormented her husband now appear to have been escapees from chinks in the brave defenses she put to reign in her hereditary jealousy. Less the shrew, she is now the one who fought courageously but, failing to find the minimal support necessary to help her survive, falls victim to powers beyond her reckoning. Her lover is the weakling, the potential savior who abandons her in the rush to save himself. Such a strange reversal of the entire film in the last minutes of it, is startling. It turns out that the tragedy was not the failure to communicate his concerns, but with his inability to understand her problem.

A well-crafted, well-acted, and thoughtful film, I Love You should be seen. Maybe the real struggle in a relationship is not to make yourself heard but to hear the other.

February 8, 2003