Scenes of gun shootouts have been an essential fixture in cinema since “The Great Train Robbery” (1903). Serving as a staple of cinematic spectacles, filmmakers have continuously competed to present their unique interpretations, whether through virtuosic camera work or unconventional set-up. Just think back to the final assault in Branded to Kill (1967, Seijun Suzuki), John Woo ‘s personal rendition of the Mexican standoff in the iconic restaurant scene from A Better Tomorrow (1986) or more recently the climax shootout of Drug War (2012, Johnnie To). The list could go on forever.
Diao Yinan introduced a very peculiar variation of it in his noir film “Black Coal” set in far northern China. Fragments of a recently identified body have been discovered scattered across various coal mining sites, leaving Inspector Zhang with just one lead: a coal truck driver who has just resigned, and whose brother happens to be the proprietor of a hair salon. The scene unfolds as Zhang, accompanied by two colleagues, enters to capture these two individuals there.
What immediately grabs your attention is the brutal contrast between the dark, nightly, wintry exteriors that dominates until there and the rosy, kitschy interior of the salon, almost like crossing a threshold into a magical realm. The blue and white checkered tiles, the pink neon lights (signalling a place for prostitution), and an inexpressive mamasan doing a hair styling overseeing everything, create a pure Lynchian vibe.
Yet, this enchanting ambiance sharply contrasts with the raw realism of the arrest. The tense interaction between the jittery police officers and the defiant and awkward behaviour of the suspects muddies all the more the waters between fantasy and reality. The non-cinematic, almost documentary-like action is abruptly interrupted by an improbable yet entirely plausible event: one of the officers accidentally drops his gun on the floor next to the handcuffed prisoners.
What follows is a singular shootout, an improbable struggle at point-blank range where firearms unleash an outrageous violence among these all-too-human characters, their eyes and actions betraying only fear, improvisation, total loss of control.
The virtuoso staging, illustrated by the subtle play with the hairdressing mirrors or the take featuring no fewer than nine characters in the frame generates the incredible feeling that you are there, among them, without any cinematic distance. A unique mastery !
