It
is an act of supreme hubris to use an iconic cathedral over a century
in-the-building and as yet unfinished as the model for a proposed mega-mega-housing
complex. The Chinese ersatz Sagrada Família is fictional, but ethos of hyper-development
behind it is very true to life. So is the 2013 Huangpu River Incident. At that
time, more than 16,000 deceased swine were fished out of the river near Shanghai,
after a mysterious epidemic swept through subsistence pork farms. The starkly
demarcated worlds of the real estate developing haves and the pig-farming
have-nots will intersect and overlap in Cathy Yan’s Dead Pigs, which premiered last night at the 2018 Sundance Film Festival.
Old
Wang is one of those pig farmers, whose stock suddenly died. It happened at a
terrible time for him. He thought he had invested in a promising start-up, but
it was really just a scam. Unfortunately, his debt to the loan sharks is still
due in two weeks’ time. Old Wang had hoped his son Wang Zhen could help. He had
led his father to believe he had made good in Shanghai, but he is really just
living hand-to-mouth as a busboy. Nevertheless, he manages to befriend and
subsequently fall in love with Xia Xia, a fuerdai party girl.
The
Wang father and son have their own problems, so they do not notice when Zhen’s hairdresser
aunt, Candy Wang because an internet cult hero for refusing to sell out to the shady
conglomerate, thereby putting a hold on the Sagrada Família project. This is
particularly bad news for the development’s American architect, Sean Landry,
who was hoping the ostentatious complex would restart his stalled career.
The
corporate thugs will harass Aunt Candy, the street toughs will dog Old Wang,
and the entitled brats will bully the hard-working Zhen. Their stories intertwine
with those Xia Xia and Landry, but in organic, unforced ways. In fact, it is pretty
remarkable how much contemporary cultural observation and criticism is jammed
into two hours and ten minutes, including the wide-spread practice of accident
fraud and the government’s blockage of Facebook. Yet, Dead Pigs still managed to pass the Party censors, maybe because they
were distracted by the musical numbers. You read that right, there are two
showstoppers (technically, one might be more of a cheerleading drill) that are
worthy of Bollywood.
Yan
also has the added dazzle of Vivian Wu’s star power. She has appeared in
classics like Beauty Remains, The Pillow
Book, and The Last Emperor, but
Candy Wang might just be the role of her career. She is brassy, but dignified and
vulnerable—and yes, she sings.
Vivien
Li Meng and Mason Lee are also terrific as Xia Xia and Wang Zhen. There is genuine
chemistry between them, but also real tension. This is nothing like your
typical poor boy-rich girl rom-com. In their respective spheres, class
boundaries are not supposed to be traversed. Both Yan’s well-developed script and
David Rysdahl’s humanizing performance prevent the nebbish Landry from becoming
an expat cliché, while Zazie Beetz steals a few scenes as Angie, a western
events planner, who offers him some decidedly odd moonlighting gigs. At times,
Yang Haoyu pitches Old Wang rather broadly, but his scenes with his son are
pretty devastating.
In
many ways, Dead Pigs is like the
novel of today’s China Tom Wolfe has yet to write. It is bitingly satirical,
trenchantly observant, and features a cast of characters that runs the entire social
gamut. It is also deeply rooted in actual, documented events. Very highly
recommended, Dead Pigs screens again
this afternoon (1/20), Thursday (1/25), and Friday (1/26) in Park City and
Monday (1/22) in Salt Lake, as part of this year’s Sundance.
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