Edward Yang’s Yi Yi Is A Highly Evocative Experience

Art is bound to have subjective responses. Even if what we witness is said to be a representation of 'objective' reality, our reactions would differ based on our individuality. So, discussing art based on what personally affected me, or someone else, has always been a fascinating and fruitful exercise. The exchange gives a peek into the character traits of others. More than invading their personal space, it can be practised as an attempt at getting to know someone on a deeper level. And in no way does this mean judging a person based on their taste and choices but to figure out the reasons for the way we react, to find the differences and commonalities.

So while Edward Yang's Yi Yi is excellent in terms of its script and structure, the focus of this essay is on the film's continuing emotional hold. And through that, the search for a common truth about why it works to evoke such strong emotions. Speaking from my own experience, I resonate strongly with its exploration of urban alienation. I remember being moved by the character of the young kid the first time I had seen it. His efforts towards mapping out the world around him with his camera felt closer to my anxieties. Now a slightly older me finds the pathos of his father to be a reflection of my reality. Yet, no matter what the source is, the film manages to tear me up every single time. And I learn a little more about myself every time I revisit it.

This Taiwanese film was released at the beginning of the new millennium. It marked the end of the illustrious film career of Edward Yang, who is one of the key figures of the New Taiwanese Film Wave. His work has often been said to be reminiscent of Japanese director Yasujiro Ozu. The thread that is considered to connect them is the prominence of long static shots and the choice of subject matter related to familial bonds. Another similarity I find is the sense of transition that the characters feel. With Ozu, it is a shift from the traditional belief system. Since his film Early Spring, his focus is more on the liminal elements of systemic change after the war.

In most of Yang's filmography, but more so in Yi Yi, the sense of transition is present due to a change in the way of living. The key characters are a middle-aged man, his daughter and a younger son, presented through interwoven narratives. The middle-aged father's character tries chasing his past in the hope of rekindling an old relationship — one that he had abandoned with no closure. At the same time, he tries to keep up with his colleagues who parade him around as an 'honest face' for their dishonest business proposals. He is removed from the material growth that excites them. This feeling of being trapped in a cycle that he does not willingly choose causes him internal anguish. Yet, a lack of visible sign on his face — a mix of nonchalance and numbness — makes him resonate with anyone in a similar entrapment. His children imbibe his insouciance. It is a coming-of-age tale of every one of them trying to escape their dreary present. Only to return to the inevitability of their choices and the lives they lead.

Due to the continuing struggle to find their place in a rapidly changing present, these characters appear distant, gloomy, and detached.  The shallowness of the revised culture creates an emotional upheaval in them. Their psychological state is a direct or indirect effect of the capitalistic systems that we all abide by and the resulting loss of human values in the race for necessities. As the protagonist from Satyajit Ray's Mahanagar says, "We have become cowards due to our need to earn daily bread and butter". The same system affects the characters from Yi Yi over four decades later and dictates their relation to the outside world. And two decades after Yi Yi's release, the struggle persists all over the world and becomes the common truth that we can connect with.

The spaces that surround the film's characters give away a feeling of their alienation. Not just the leads, but other characters are also shown in empty, deserted spaces where one could sense their melancholy. Even when the space is just a room, the prolonged silences heighten the scene's emotional impact and highlight the character's gnawing pain. The urban spaces from Yi Yi are a part of everyone's lives despite the geographic differences — which gives the experience of the film, a lived-in universality.

Besides the cinematography, the film's editing creates an interesting juxtaposition of various aspects of life that the script puts across. Cutting from a lively wedding to a mundane silence during a car ride, the abrupt cut makes the transition seem even more urgent and poignant. A window reflecting the lively city life on the streets has a person inside, struggling to cope with the city's changing realities. Can't the same skyline that gives one a sense of freedom and opportunities be a source of deepening someone else's pit of anxiety? Yi Yi aims to find the same emotional gap in our hearts.

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What makes Yi Yi evocative is the sense of shared experience. The characters represent certain stages of our lives. The first time we fall in love like thunderous lightning invading our hearts. The times we hold a hand in our hand to share a soothing connection with another individual. And the times we remember those sweet memories of adolescent innocence. The momentary joys where we share the human warmth that is hard to find in the robotic doggedness of the modern world. The impermanence of every joy and sorrow. The impermanence of 'feeling' itself. Yi Yi captures each of them with unbelievable honesty and makes you give a warm hug to yourself. Although depressing, it manages a sense of warmth through its intelligible interactions.

Yi Yi (2000) is available to watch on the Criterion Channel.