Zhang Yimou’s BLOOD SIMPLE remake looks beautiful but comes up too limp
A WOMAN, A GUN AND A NOODLE SHOP (Zhang Yimou, 2010)
Landmark Sunshine
143 East Houston St.
Opens Friday, September 3
212-330-8182
www.sonyclassics.com
www.landmarktheatres.com
Chinese film director Zhang Yimou nearly always hits the mark, having scored major successes with such outstanding early work as RED SORGHUM, JU DOU, RAISE THE RED LANTERN, THE STORY OF QIU JU, and TO LOVE as well as such more recent fare as HERO, HOUSE OF FLYING DAGGERS, RIDING ALONE FOR THOUSANDS OF MILES, and CURSE OF THE GOLDEN FLOWER. But the award-winning director, who turns sixty this year, has taken a silly turn with his latest, A WOMAN, A GUN AND A NOODLE SHOP, a farcical remake of the Coen brothers’ modern noir classic, BLOOD SIMPLE. Thought not nearly as intolerable as the Coens’ own remake flop, 2004’s THE LADYKILLERS, Yimou’s version of greed, infidelity, and double and triple crosses has a tense, thrilling ending, but much of what leads up to it is just too over the top. In a noodle shop in a nearly deserted region of China, a young woman (Yan Ni) is cheating on her much older, disgusting husband, Wang (Ni Dahong), with the hapless, weak-willed Li (Xiao Shenyang). Wang hires a dedicated soldier, Zhang (Sun Hunglei), as a private detective to catch the lovers in action and kill them. Meanwhile, Zhao (Cheng Ye) and Chen (Mao Mao), who also work in the noodle shop for Wang and his wife, primarily stay in the background as the crazy shenanigans unfold, the comic relief in a movie already overburdened with comic relief. Interspersing elements of Peking Opera and slapstick comedy, Yimou loses sight of the heart of the crooked tale, getting lost in vaudevillian set pieces that often feel out of place, although it is fun watching Li, Zhao, and Mao Mao stretch, throw, and spin around dough like they’re making a pizza. The film also features gorgeous cinematography courtesy of Zhao Xiaoding, who beautifully captures the mountainous region and the colorful costumes. But if Yan Ni screams one more time. . . .