The Road Home
Written by Bao Shi
Directed by Zhang Yimou
Starring : Zhang Ziyi, Sun Honglei, Zhang Hao, Zhao Yuelin, Li Bin, Chang Guifa, Sung Wencheng.
(opens this spring @ ritz theaters, exclusively)
*  1/2    (One and One Half Stars)


        Further proof that no filmmaker remains untainted by the corrupt American machine. Just when did Zhang Yimou decide to dispense with the drudgeries of being a genius? The maker of masterpieces like 'Ju Dou' and 'To Live' paints 'The Road Home' using very manipulative American-looking close-ups. And he uses enough that they become mighty suspect (that is, it would be easier to count the shots in the film that ARE NOT close-ups). Though he's used music to splendid results before (both 'Red Sorghum' and especially 'To Live' have scores permeating images in an eerie, almost too-complementary way), in 'The Road Home', a Chinese James Horner score almost washes the images over with a syrupy sweet exterior, leaving a truly pretentious residue that is tough to shake.
        Certainly no fault of the lovely Zhang Ziyi (who you know from 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden something or other'), who looks about two or three years younger than she is, but manages to sidestep the obvious preoccupation (or, let's say, obsession) Yimou has with pimping her into an emotional gold mine. Her co-star, Sun Honglei, is unattractive and enthusiastic (do they mix?), lending something of a coincidental distraction to 'The Road Home's deafening false ring.
    Concerning a man confronted with his mother's stubborn wishes for his recently deceased father's funeral procession (and the flashback to his parents' courtship which helps him to deal with it), 'The Road Home' is so uninvolving that it almost appears to have the scent of an American film: that "bland story as motive to accentuate display of visual tinkering" attitude is present all over. Not really a trait of the great Yimou, 'The Road Home's most painful effect is how disappointed I was to see the quality of this masterful Chinese cinema poet plummet.
    The black mark on a career. 'Spose they all have them. 'The Road Home' leads only away from anything remotely associated with the definition in its title. It's a long road, though. Often, it seems unending. In Zhang Yimou's previous outings, that was a good thing. Not here.

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