Chen
Shiang-chyi’s Ling suffers from a
similar condition to David Zellner’s protagonist in the recent
American-Japanese film Kumiko, the
Treasure Hunter. Yet, where the latter escapes from her mundane life into a
magical-realist world of stashed booty and sympathetic policemen, Ling is left
isolated and alone, with little to cling to in terms of fanciful escapism.
Exit opens in an impoverished, faded part of urbanised
Taiwan. Unpopulated and unstimulating, the film’s landscape goes a long way to
reflecting Ling’s inner psyche. After being laid off, her problems really begin
to mount, with a combination of nascent menopausal symptoms and existential
angst enveloping her as she searches desperately for any sense of meaning.
Initially, it
looks as though some sort of release might come from the exaggerated body
movements of tango dancing. Though after her attempts to dress up, don beauty
masks and join a friend’s tango class leave her deflated, it is clear no hope
lies in such an endeavour.
As Ling
continues to push on through her monotonous experience – caring for her
bed-ridden mother, making numerous unanswered calls to her daughter and husband
– Chen Shiang-chyi’s performance moves from strength to strength. Unapologetically naturalistic, Hsiang’s
direction shuns melodrama in favour of raw, understated moments. The most openly
emotion scene of all comes from Ling’s anguish at not being able to break out
of her broken front door. The more painful sadness lies in the fact she can’t
break out of her hermetic existence. The routine continues; the loneliness sets
in. In Chen Shiang-chyi’s capable hands, it becomes a feeling of futility to
which we can all relate.
The one
activity that interests Ling is caring for the patient across from her
mother-in-law’s bed. Eyes bandaged, groaning and abandoned, this man gives the
otherwise purposeless Ling a chance to seize her identity. The simple act of
massaging a stranger’s torso becomes its own sort of therapy, a reclamation of
her middle-aged femininity.
For those with
a penchant for slow burners, subtle moments of beauty and brutal honesty, look
no further than Exit. It’s in those
prolonged pockets of silence that the film really takes hold, the faint rhythm
of tango music echoing somewhere in the background.
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