THE VERTICAL RAY OF THE SUN
directed by Tran Anh Hung with Tran Nu YꮭKhꬠ Nguyen Nhu Quynh, and Le Khanh runs Sept. 28-Oct. 4 at Egyptian
FOR SHEER BEAUTY, you can’t beat the third film by Tran Anh Hung, whose Oscar-nominated 1993 The Scent of Green Papaya made him Vietnam’s preeminent director (even though he’s based in France). Like Papaya and his 1995 Cyclo, The Vertical Ray of the Sun stars his lovely wife, Tran Nu YꮭKhꬠalthough she’s by no means the main attraction in this lush, exquisitely photographed sibling drama. Instead, ࠬa Chekhov, she plays one of three sisters—plus one brother—in a family caught between memory and the present, reverie and reality. The clan gathers first to commemorate the anniversary of their mother’s death, then later to honor the memory of their deceased father.
Bookended by mortality (but not exactly sadness), Vertical brims with life in all its tangled hues and emotions. In this gorgeous tumult, however, it can be hard to tease out the players and plot. Cafe-owning eldest sister Suong (Nguyen Nhu Quynh) is married to photographer Quoc, with one son. Number-two sister Khanh (Le Khanh) is wed to writer Kien, with no kids yet. Unmarried, naive third sister Liꮠ(Tran) lives with her vain actor brother, Hai. (The latter two are amusingly besotted with Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground.)
Are they happy or unhappy? Pace Tolstoy, they’re mixed-up in their own particularly photogenic fashion. Ritually preparing meals, the sisters sing and gossip while turning out the blood-red pulp of orange fruit, then pluck an electric-yellow boiled chicken. Golden carp watch while they wash their ink-black hair, which, when braided, neatly bisects simple blue blouses. Hai and Liꮧs apartment has mustard and aqua-green walls; when the monsoon leaks through their roof, Hai declares, “I only smoke because it’s raining.” Such idle, languorous logic infuses Vertical, which dreamily avoids obvious drama in favor of impeccably framed tableaus. It’s a movie as still-life: enthralling, if opaque, to watch.
Somewhat reminiscent of Hannah and Her Sisters, Vertical gradually reveals flaws in each couple’s home life. Pregnancy, adultery, and bigamy figure in the fray, although voices are hardly ever raised. Throughout, director Tran’s careful compositions and dazzling close-ups echo the paradox voiced by the photographer husband, who now documents nature because it has “a tranquility you can’t find in a face.” In other words, surface beauty is belied by inner turmoil—even if such feelings never quite boil over to make us feel compellingly engaged with the proceedings. Instead, Vertical simmers along hypnotically, as ephemeral as its own steam.
