Yanji, a wintry city in northeastern China, is close to the North Korean border. Tourism is popular here amongst the Chinese looking to experience Korean culture and take in the nearby mountains. It is also the place where Anthony Chen’s gentle new drama The Breaking Ice takes place. Yanji is not a town that’s often depicted in Chinese cinema, making Chen’s film a valuable snapshot of a place and people rarely represented on film. Of course, since the Chinese government officially sanctions films before they are screened, some details and flourishes of The Breaking Ice suggest heavy-handed political influence.
The film follows Haofeng (Liu Haoran), a twenty-something living in Shanghai, who travels to Yanji for a friend’s wedding. Melancholic and without companions, Haofeng sleepwalks through the wedding, eventually distracting himself by booking a local bus tour. However, the tour turns out to be cheesy, perhaps deliberately so, which only deepens his feelings of alienation. After losing his phone, the tour guide, Nana (Zhou Dongyu), takes pity on Haofeng, and their relationship evokes a kindredness, with ennui as the common bond. After the tour ends, Nana gives Haofeng a dose of local hospitality, which involves partying all night with her other friend Xiao (Qu Chuxiao), a restaurant worker. The next morning’s hangover causes Haofeng to miss his flight, and so he has no alternative but to spend the weekend hanging with his new friends.
The Breaking Ice’s set-up is somewhat like Richard Linklater’s Before Sunrise: it offers an opportunity for young people to quickly form an intense bond over a short period of time. Of course, Chen’s story involves three people, not two—though a romantic relationship does form between Haofeng and Nana eventually. Chen declines to turn his film into a love triangle, though, even with Xiao expressing jealousy over Nana’s new lover. This is a shrewd choice—that plot would be a distraction from Chen’s true purpose of examining how friendship and camaraderie can help these three overcome their respective hardships. Haofeng suggests he is thinking of suicide, Nana is still dealing with the emotional fallout brought on after a foot injury resulted in an abrupt end to her promising figure skating career. As for Xiao, he is a longtime Yanji townie, who is only now starting to realize there might be life beyond the remote town where he lives.
The Breaking Ice is an excellent travelogue, with Chen showcasing the town’s imposing mountains and neon-soaked clubs where seemingly people go to blow off steam. But this is not a wholly wistful film, and Chen finds room to show what is depressing or mundane about life in Yanji. The locals have meager apartments, and despite the striking scenery, familiarity has a way of dampening appeal. Haofeng’s introduction is crucial to Nana’s and Xiao’s relationship, highlighting how shared boredom can transition into something more meaningful. Sure, an affinity for booze is not the best foundation for lifelong friendships, but then again, many great ones have been built on less.
Aside from gentle comic moments, the film includes some heartbreaking scenes of vulnerability, like when Haofeng admits to Xiao he is afraid of being alone, or when Nana and Haofeng have sex. In these moments and others, Chen evokes an unforced sense of authenticity. The trio is eminently relatable, making you wistful for the past or reminding you of your current drinking buddies. The final scenes give each member of the trio a moment of clarity, as if Chen must assure us that even though they have all gone their separate ways, they all ultimately find themselves in better places.
Chen’s film is sensitive and well-observed, so it can be jarring when it veers into undeveloped subplots. The most egregious example of this is when the drama grinds to a halt, pivoting instead to depict the story of an escaped North Korean criminal—a thief who dominates local news broadcasts and seemingly must be brought to justice. Perhaps this is the same thief who stole Haofeng’s phone, perhaps not, but the man never has an encounter with the film’s three leads. This story is resolved in an afterthought, where the authorities eventually catch the man on railroad tracks. Other scenes can also be maudlin, borne out of a desire to be more poignant than honest. But these issues are ultimately minor, never really getting in the way of the film’s modest and ultimately spellbinding qualities.
Photo courtesy of Strand Releasing
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