2046 Wong Kar-Wai Hong Kong/China 2004
'Everyone who goes to 2046 has the same intention
To recapture their lost memories
Because in 2046, nothing ever changes
Nobody can be sure that this is true
Because nobody who goes there...
...has ever come back
Except for me
Because I do need to change.'
Rarely do you see a subtitled film that opens with such hypnotic optics that you forget to read the translation. Such was my stunned reaction to the world of 2046 at the start of Kar-Wai’s latest, a simple bittersweet retelling of the 1960s bachelor lifestyle and the science fiction fantasy he develops to cope with his loneliness. This semi-translucent future world looks deliberately ethereal, moving away from neon interpretations of tomorrow in the ‘80s or the dark reality questioning obsessions of the ‘90s, appearing more like the projection of data and skyscrapers upon parallel layered screens; a holographic could-be that revels in its sense of intangibility. Trains span this global metaphor linking the world and ultimately departing for 2046 - a nirvana, heaven or ultimate goal. The aspiration and destination of all where none desire to return except one man, the protagonist and narrator of the evolving tale.
Counter-pointing the humdrum with the hallucinatory is nothing revelatory, yet Kar-Wai and his three cinematographers tear beauty from the life of a bed-sitting journalist and his delusions to spectacular effect. Shot upon shot half reveal characters partially blocked by doorframes, by walls, by the confines of this lifestyle. Characters decked in the finest clothes, yet residing in a shabby hotel; Characters with constant company, yet nobody to spend Christmas Eve with. Bringing out the colour of the seemingly immense wardrobes the female characters own, the film almost embraces pointillism, saturating these images with a colour leaching feel that simply can’t be digital. The boundless future world of 2046, a digital fantasy seen in panorama turns this all on its head exploiting the unreal feel of today’s digital dreams by deliberately making it all hazy, just out of focus - patently unreal and the usual trick of fast vast pans. Comparisons abound with the subject matter from The Stalker to Ian Bank’s novel The Bridge and of course the visionary dystopias of Blade Runner and The Matrix. Less influentially, Star Trek: Generations shrewdly bridges the years with a similar plot mechanism, rejecting such remembrance as the new cast take over from the original one. At heart though this is really self-conscious make believe enmeshing the world in the chains of train track whilst simultaneously vying to put the protagonist outside of it in his forlorn journey. It all only approaches a semblance of reality within the casing of the train. Within this visual coup d’etat pristine set-ups abound of female androids posing in the high fashion togs we will surely wear in the future. Outside the world is a blur. The future inverts the dowdy period setting, in murals on the walls: A richly hued ripple of reality siphoning off influences from the 1960s, the present and more.
Problems seep into this plainly insanely good-looking film with the narration and the plot structure. It ultimately goes nowhere. The protagonist can’t settle down and neither can his fantasy or Wong Kar-Wai’s: the film we watch 2046. Narration, that poor brother to actually showing a story is present, as are the loose parallels with Blade Runner, a film with similar obsessions. Wong Kar-Wai’s narration is intended but previous versions such as the Cannes 2004 screening were reportedly less coherent. This verbal straitjacket of plot is the first warning sign that 2046 has escaped the creator’s grasp. A cinema going joy is the complexity and abundance of films that give you space to think and imagine and dream, adopting a film for your own. A less comprehensible version of 2046 might well improve it by simply letting an audience bathe in the luxurious luminosity conjured.
Regardless, watch this near masterpiece.
For more information check out the website at www.wkw2046.com