‘Resurrection’ Review: Bi Gan’s Extravagant Act of Surrender to the Seductions of a Century of Cinema

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Are you recalling those times when we would immerse ourselves in watching films as deeply as we do in our dreams? That’s exactly what Bi Gan, the Chinese director known for “Long Day’s Journey Into Night” (2018), seems to be reminiscing about. His latest work, titled “Resurrection,” is now here after a seven-year hiatus. This movie is an extravagant masterpiece of grand aspirations that can be seen as five or six films in one. Each film within it is at once whimsical and enigmatic, contributing to a broader melancholic tribute to the dream of 20th-century cinema and the lives we led in its realm.

Making a film that asks the audience to embrace innocence and freedom, traits that the movie itself portrays as vanishing, presents a conundrum. After all, every scene in “Resurrection” balances on the edge of a paradox, stemming from a fundamentally paradoxical premise: a future that’s not far off (perhaps even reflecting our post-pandemic reality) where dreams and cinema are one and the same, yet no one seems to dream anymore.

In a unique blend reminiscent of “Stalker” and “Blade Runner,” filmmaker Bi Gan, along with co-writer Bai Xue, presents an imaginative sci-fi narrative where humanity has found that ceasing to dream extends lifespan – symbolized by an unending candle. However, not everyone agrees; some individuals prefer fleeting, vibrant lives. These rebels who defy this norm are referred to as “Fantasmers,” and they pose a significant threat, causing disarray in history and manipulating time itself. To counteract their destructive influence, there is a select group known as the “Big Others,” endowed with the ability to discern reality from illusion, who track down the Fantasmers living in their self-created cinematic realms, aiming to restore order by rousing them from their dreamlike states.

Initially, we delve into a series of interconnected dream narratives set within various eras of cinema history. Each narrative is tied to one of the five senses and serves as a unique layer in our story. The opening section, reminiscent of silent films, focuses on the character Fantasmer, portrayed by Jackson Yee across all his different manifestations, and his chase of the Big Other, played by Shu Qi, adorned in a deep green silk blouse that we will now refer to as “Bi Gan green,” following Tang Wei’s dress in “Long Day’s Journey.

This portion particularly highlights the intricate artwork of Liu Qiang and Tu Nan in their baroque-styled set design. Here, the Fantasmer is portrayed as a cinematic beast, a blend of Nosferatu and Quasimodo, inhabiting an elaborate miniature Chinese opium den diorama. However, a sudden twist reveals a German expressionist labyrinth with off-kilter angles and dark corners, reminiscent of the dance sequence in “The Red Shoes” by Moira Shearer. Meanwhile, the ‘Vertigo’ love theme, or a captivating piece from M83’s versatile score that mirrors it, intensifies the romantic obsession between the monster and the woman assigned to eliminate him.

She manages to apprehend him, yet she confesses that his unwavering dedication to his aspirations stirs her deeply. Despite being unable to alter his fate, she yearns for a peaceful end for him. Consequently, she splits him open and activates an inner device, leading the Fantasmer to reappear as a dashing man in a wartime spy thriller – complete with fedoras, train stations, and scenes reminiscent of “Lady From Shanghai” mirror shoot-outs. Here, he is on trial for allegedly killing a man (Yan Nan) by stabbing him with an ink pen in the ear. This segment, centered around the trial, might be less self-explanatory, but it remains captivating due to some striking visuals: Music sheets flutter, a bomb destroys the roof of the train station, and bloodied hands play a theremin.

The wax softens, while an enigmatic presence ponders. Thirty years pass before the Mysterious Entity resurfaces as a laborer within a dilapidated Buddhist temple, where he comes face to face with Chen Yongzhong, the Ghost of Resentment, who had taken refuge in a decaying tooth. This narrative unfolds like a traditional Chinese legend about trickster gods tormenting an unlucky subject. Later, 20 years down the line, the Mysterious Entity becomes a roguish mentor to a young girl named Guo Mucheng, teaching her how to deceive by identifying the correct card from a deck based on scent. Eventually, as New Year’s Eve approaches in 1999, the Mysterious Entity transforms into an immature, bleached-blond delinquent who has never shared a kiss, while Li Gengxi, adorned with half-moon spectacles and high-top Converse reminiscent of a ’90s Wong Kar-wai character, appears as a bewitching beauty who may have kissed many, but has yet to bite anyone.

In a 40-minute, continuous shot, this segment features action ranging from fights and gun battles to full karaoke performances. It may not have the same enchanting, floaty quality as the corresponding breathtakingly spiritual 3D scene in “Long Day’s Journey,” but it still leaves a lasting impression in unique ways. For instance, when the visual effects shift from red to blue as a window breaks, or when Dong Jingsong’s ingenious camera pauses momentarily to capture a street celebration where people seem to move at hyper-speed due to time-lapse effects, while a silent film plays normally in the background.

In essence, each story stands on its own, with unique elements, except for occasional shared references like time, subjectivity, and suitcases. They are all framed as some kind of chase or pursuit – be it a murderer, enlightenment, wealth, love, or something else. When viewed within the larger narrative arc of the Fantasmer being pursued by the Big Other, “Resurrection” can be understood as a complex game of cat and mouse that spans from highbrow to lowbrow references, ranging from sophisticated art influences to even a riddle whose answer is humorously simple: a fart.

During the pandemic, Bi Gan started reimagining his film “Resurrection” entirely. A surprising outcome of this sudden isolation was a surge of people experiencing unusually intense dreams. Meanwhile, traditional cinemas, which Bi Gan cherishes, are facing numerous technological advancements and changing viewing habits, making it harder for us to fully immerse ourselves in art as we once could. For Bi Gan, this is a source of sadness because he believes there’s an indescribable beauty in the sensory experience of cinema, and a profound nobility in seeking solace within it, even if that means escaping from reality where things are accomplished rather than just imagined.

Resurrection,” with its complex and ambitious take on the theme, isn’t a typical manifesto and might test those accustomed to simpler narratives. However, for those who yearn for the impactful storytelling of old cinema, it presents an engaging challenge that also serves as a captivating tutorial on the forgotten craft of relinquishing control – a lesson delivered in a cinematically sophisticated manner.

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2025-05-23 02:18