Original title: Ngôi nhà trong hem
Thao (Thanh Van Ngo, now working as Veronica Ngo, apparently) suffers through
a stillbirth. The film never actually thematises this directly, but one can’t
help but think the death of the child might have been avoided if her husband
Thanh (Son Bao Tran) hadn’t needed to call in a mid-wife to tell him that his
wife bleeding out on the bed is reason to call a doctor. But then, Thanh will
turn out to be the least assertive person imaginable, unable to stand up to his
horrible shrew of a mother, unwilling to face the problems of the family
factory, and completely inept when it comes to even trying to help Thao through
a terrible time.
And a terrible the time is. Thao is hit so hard by depression she can’t even
bring herself to let her child be properly buried, so the little coffin keeps a
place of honour right in the couple’s bedroom. Even Thanh’s mother realizes that
this is a horrible idea. It’s an even worse idea because we are in a horror
film, of course, so Thao and Thanh slowly encounter the sort of supernatural
trouble you’d expect. Thao is quickly losing it completely, developing phases of
violent hatred for her husband (and who can blame her?), adding symptoms of
ghostly possession to those of depression. For a long time, Thanh doesn’t
acknowledge the problem, being really focussed on not doing anything about the
strike in the family factory as he is; indeed, neither he nor his mother
apparently attempt to find out why exactly their workers are striking.
Even when a group of child ghosts pushes him down a roof, and Thao really starts
to need professional help (or an exorcist, or the visit to her family she asked
her husband for early on but never got) he’s wavering indecisively. Only the
threat of being axed by his wife can catapult him to action, it seems.
It’s a bit of a shame that so few films from Vietnam make their way to our
shores. That’s not just because the more countries the merrier, but also because
the dearth of films makes it difficult to parse some of the cultural context of
a film like Le-Van Kiet’s House in the Alley. It’s not so much the
ghosts – those are in form and function very much comparable to spooks from
other South-East Asian countries – that trouble me here. Rather, it’s my
complete lack of understanding for the country’s cultural norms. So I don’t know
if Thanh’s extreme wet blanket style (and I’m saying that as a rather
cuddly-soft guy myself) is a particular type mocked or beloved in Vietnamese
art; if it’s common in the country for bourgeois types not to call in the doctor
when their wife is bleeding out on the bed (how are emergency services in the
country?); if the film’s audience reads the characters in a comparable way I do;
or even if most of the characters’ horrible ways to treat a woman who is
obviously suffering is something that’s culturally expected or deplored. Given
my lack of context, it’s rather difficult to parse more than the most basic of
the psychological elements of the film. Clearly, it’s a film about a couple’s
trouble moving on from a stillbirth as expressed through spookery but how the
film actually judges their behaviour, I don’t feel in a proper position to
understand.
What I can understand are the more direct horror elements. These are,
unfortunately, not as interesting or exciting as I would have wished for. Ngo is
certainly able to sell Thao’s depression and the changes brought on her by the
supernatural influence on the couple’s home, but I never really found myself
frightened or creeped out by her suffering for most to the time. Even when she
starts to grab an axe and go after Thanh, the film’s much too polite about it,
Kiet’s direction never really bringing out the tension or the emotional horror
of the situation beyond the most obvious. The ghosts, for their part are not
terribly impactful either. Again, the film seems rather reluctant to actually
make them feel threatening or creepy; it’s just too polite for even a little
jump scare here and there.
Wednesday, October 25, 2017
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment