A Salaryman and a world-weary Yakuza travel to a remote part of China in search of Jade, only to discover a life so far untouched and so far removed from their own that it effects them each in unexpected ways.
Takashi Miike has become rather a household name in the cult movie circles these days thanks to the increasing popularity of the Asia Extreme cinema, famed for its raw and frenetic violence and disturbed narrative. I myself have come to know Miike through this very strain of film and so you can just imagine my surprise when I happened upon The Bird People In China. With all its promises of “a haunting and poetic masterpiece” and such like it was certainly an intriguing contradiction in terms of director and subject. With such an interesting premise I couldn’t help but wonder if Miike would pull it off.
What followed was nearly two hours of what must be the gentlest film I’ve ever seen, and certainly one of the loveliest as the story takes its own time meandering along just as the tracks do in the heart-stopping mountain scenery. This film is so serene that by the end you feel as if Miike’s sung you a lullaby that’s crept up on you in such a way as you’d hardly even noticed. But this isn’t a pretentious nothingness and neither is it a sickening slice of whimsical pap. It’s actually a very delicate and well-observed view on some very humane issues like national identity, communication and a sense of belonging and heritage. Miike crafts these issues with a calm hand and a sensitive eye which, for all its patient observation, is not so blind in pursuit of charm as to neglect the realism which made similar films such as Herzog’s Aguirre, Wrath of God so well respected.
Bird People is of course full of analogies and metaphors and messages of worldly importance, the theme of finding riches of a far less tangible nature when on the trail of material wealth is certainly nothing new in cinema. In this instance, however, we have it without the ham-handed Hollywood approach of inexcusable preaching. What we do have is a considerate story handled with humour and genuine affection as we are left free to observe the subtle changes of our three protagonists. Like three wretched stooges, Wada (Masahiro Motoki), Ujiie (Renji Ishibashi) and Shen (Mako) manage to stay the right side of bumbling buffoons thanks to skilled direction and acting. ? in particular, with his almost imperceptible descent into well meaning madness is so accurately portrayed as to be utterly convincing in terms of being both tender and darkly frightening at the same instance. It is at these times that we see a glimpse of Miike’s directorial heritage with some surreal and blunt violence, which makes you wonder if he just couldn’t help himself but in the context only adds to the realism in the otherwise utopian feel.
It’s very hard to fault this film. It’s a pleasure from beginning to end and the only real fault really lies in that it had to end at all, just as you realised you’ve lapsed into the dreamy Miike lullaby state. The extremely slow pace won’t be to everybody’s taste, and it’s certainly a departure from the Takashi Miike beaten track, but just when you thought he’d taken off on a peculiar flight of fancy, he goes and makes a perfect landing.
A subtly endearing fairytale-like adventure which soars with ease to the heady heights of a near perfect.
Subscribe: 
