sensorialfloodingof the secondhalf. The green book that
Luoinheritedfromhismother(whomayormaynotbe
thesamewomanashishalf-rememberedlover)is saidto
containwordsthat,if spokenaloud,canmakea house
spin.It is a spellbook,and,aswitha spell,thememory-
basedfirst half ofLongDay’sJourneyis presentedtousin
an exacting,enigmaticway becausethe minutelycalibra-
tedincantationneedstohappenprecisely,in orderforthe
magic– the film’s swoopingsecondhalf – to occur.
Readthisway,withspell-castingmemorycueingmagi-
cal dream,the questionthen becomes:whichis the more
real, the more significant?It’s here that time and chrono-
logy play a major role: while logic dictatesthat memory
(whichis,asLuosays,atleast‘partlytruth’)shouldbe
closertotherealthana dreamcaneverbe,theformof
the film countermandsthat assumption.Not only does the
useof3Dsuggestthedepth,spatialrelativityandhard
edgesofthetangible,butthetrackingshotalsoensures
thatthewholesecond half occurs in what we tellingly
term ‘real time’.
Withinthisone,unbrokensequence,althoughthereare
literal flightsof fancy and encounterswith skull-masked
ghost-boys,therearealsosegmentsgovernedbythe
unpredictablechaosofreal,spontaneouslife.There’sa
ping-pongmatch,a zip-linejourney,a gameofpooland
anunfakeablemomentin whicha recalcitrantdonkey
bucksbeneathits load, sendingapples– again,apples–
rollingmesmericallyacrosstheground.Andthereis alsoa
woman– a real one, this time, playedby the same actress
who performsas the cipher-womanin the film’s first half.
Thisoneis stubbornandsurly,whereasQiwenwaswispily,
fragrantlymysterious:she may be in a dream,but she
is no dream girl. The spellbound past has been wonkilyrebornin a present-tensedream,butit’sbeentransformed,
shorn of nostalgiaand strippedof memory’sgreat lie: that
whatweoncehadwas more wonderful than what we
have right now.
This surprising,elusiveoptimism– comingdown cau-
tiouslyonthesideoftheskittishnowagainsttheseductive
then, oftherealagainsttherememberedandromanticised- is also what givesWinter’sNight, forallitsmelancholic
snowboundsquabbling,itsobscureuplift.In similarlylong,
steadytakes (thesefilms all seem like playfulinterrogations
ofAndréBazin’stheoryofthelongtake,^8 applyingthe ex-
tendedshot’spowerofverisimilitudetoscenesthatare
inherentlyun-orsurreal), Eun-joo(a terrificSeo Young-hwa)
and her husband,Heung-joo(Yang Heung-joo),get stran-
dedata templethey’revisitingforthesecondtime.They
find a room to stay in, but both end up sneakingout into
thesnowynight.Heung-joogetsstaggeringlydrunkwith
a possiblyimaginaryold flame,while Eun-jooencountersa
youngcouplehesitantlycourting.Thewoman(LeeSang-
hee)ofthispairis implicitlysuggestedtobeEun-jooherself
at a youngerage,abouttoembarkon the very relationship
that she now finds so unfulfilling.
ThesurpriseofJang’sgracefulyetpiercingscreen-
playis that,whenthegirlasksEun-jooforadviceabout
hersoldier-boyfriend,thereplyis tacitlyencouraging.In
thisscene,it feelsasif Eun-joois admittingthat,forall
hercurrentnegativitytowardsHeung-joo(‘Honestly,I’m
boredout of my mind,’she tells him. ‘You’rejust not fun’),
theirlifetogetherwouldbeworthrepeatingalloveragain.
Here,in thissurreallysuspendedmomentmarked,much
likeLongDay’sJourney, by lonesomerecurringmotifs– a
forgottenglove,a stoneprayerpile,a car’shazardlights
flashing rhythmically – Eun-joo has the option of changing
xxxxLiketheeternallyburningfireworkofLongDay’sJourney, orthetick-tock
ofthetaxi’sblinkersinWinter’sNight, theendingofCitiesofLastThings
makesa defiantlyhopeful, ongoing, dangling present tense out of a
long-gone past.Above, L–R:Winter’s Night;Cities of Last Things
56 • Metro Magazine 201 | © ATOM