There is definitely a recipe nowadays, particularly from films from Asia, in order to screen in the western-european film festivals. The intensely art-house approach and the focus on the rights of minorities are among the most prevalent. At the same time, and particularly regarding Vietnamese cinema, the curio that was “Taste” seems to have added some elements in the same path, particularly in terms of composition and the mixture of reality with surrealism and the erotic. Minh Quy Truong includes all the aforementioned in his latest work, “Viet and Nam”, which recently had its premiere in Cannes. At the same time, however, the film is so much more. Let us take a closer look at it.
Viet and Nam is screening in Cannes International Film Festival
Nam and Viet are both young miners working 1,000 meters below ground in the mines of a small town that seems to earn its living from coal. They are also lovers, who frequently indulge in their lovemaking in the same, extreme setting they are working. Nam’s father died in the war, with him and his mother not being sure of how he died, something that has added to the trauma they both feel. His mother, Hoa, collects coal waste from the mines to make briquette, which is how she makes her living. She frequently dreams of her husband, while a former comrade of his, Ba, visits the house frequently sharing his own horrific experiences from the war.
Eventually, the three of them decide to go south to visit the old battlefield to find the remains of Nam’s father. While there, they stumble upon a psychic who acts as if in a performance. Nam also wants to leave the country, and he is about to undergo a journey in a shipping container arranged by a trafficker.
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Although it is difficult to understand what the film is exactly about, with Minh Quy Truong implementing a rather abstract/ultra art-house approach, as it unfolds, it becomes evident that its basis is Vietnam and its history. With the whole thing taking place in 2001, as various references indicate, the director tries to speak about the collective trauma the country experienced due to its past and the financial issues it suffered from (at the time). In that fashion, the victims of the Vietnam war and the way the country was forced into a civil one is highlighted particularly through Hoa and Ba, who cannot seem to move forward, although for different reasons, as the twist close to the finale highlights.
Apart from this main basis, which is explored even more in the second part, the film also deals with the extensive immigration the country faced, with a number of women going overseas to work as domestic helpers for years, frequently leaving their families behind. That youths also did the same in search of a better future is presented through Nam’s arc. The issue with the landmines left from the war all around the country is highlighted too. The relationship Nam has with his mother and the way she treats Viet can also be perceived as a hopeful comment regarding the future of LGBT people in the country, although, Ba, with a couple of words, additionally shows that conservatism and patriarchy are still quite prevalent.
That the couple can only be true to each other deep below the earth, and not in the rather beautiful setting that surrounds the mine, can be perceived as a comment towards the same direction, with the rectal bleeding doing the same, in more impactful fashion. In a more complex remark, the poor villagers make a living by indulging in practices that harm the environment, although the message here eludes this writer. The significance of water for the country is stressed throughout, in some of the most memorable sequences, which also remind of the sea level issue Vietnam is facing.
The compositions, in a style that reminds much of “Taste” are definitely and purposefully quite artificial, with the film frequently exhibiting frames as if from an art gallery. Again as in Le Bao‘s movie though, the result is as beautiful as it is impactful, with the fact that the eroticism this time comes from two men adding to this sense. This approach definitely benefits from Son Doan’s cinematography, who captures the abstraction, the minimalism, the artificiality and the beauty that surrounds them all in perfect fashion. Felix Rehm’s editing expectedly results in a slow pace, although not exhaustingly slow, since the number of scenes here is quite high, in a testament to the amount of work cast and crew must have put in. At the same time, in both narrative and cinematic values, there is a permeating pretentiousness, which is heightened by the occasional narrations, the performance-like acting on occasion, and the overall artificiality just mentioned.
In the end, though, Minh Qyu Truong handles all the different elements of the movie rather well, resulting in an intriguing spectacle, that may be chiefly addressed to arthouse fans and festival goers, but definitely has enough elements to be appreciated by a wider audience.
