TV Review: Blossoms Shanghai
Wong Kar-Wai’s eagerly awaited television series, Blossoms Shanghai, was ten years after his last movie and three years in production throughout the pandemic, but finally hit the small screen at the end of last year. The very small screen. Tencent Video, the online streaming service of messaging app WeChat, won the bidding rights. The story follows protagonist Ah-Bao and his journey from socialist equality to riches and then back to the burgeoning middle class in the 1990s opening up and reform of China. In interest of disclosure, I’ve only seen two episodes of the television series, but I think there is already enough for me to talk about. Though it has many of Wong Kar-wai’s stunning signature visuals, it is ultimately the Chinese drama cultural machine under a veneer of beauty and Shanghainese dialect.
Blossoms Shanghai takes place in 1990s Shanghai, after Deng’s opening up and reform. It was a period of growth and crony capitalism that is best likened to the Roaring Twenties in America for our capitalist friends. Everything was rapidly industrializing and state assets were up for grabs; the only catch was that half the companies were lemons, and the rights to purchase shares were hard to come by. It is with this backdrop that Wong Kar-wai weaves his story. Ah-Bao is an everyman who seizes this opportunity to enter business with a former businessman, Uncle Ye, who is fresh out of prison. After proving his wealth and intent to Uncle Ye by borrowing droves of money, Ah-Bao becomes the face of the partnership whose story the show covers. The show begins in medias res as Ah-Bao, now referred to as Director Bao, is struck by a car in a seemingly random hit-and-run. As his various friends and partners try to ascertain what exactly occurred, the audience is taken through an abbreviated version of his rise to riches.
Director Wong Kar-wai needs no introduction to those who are acquainted with film. The other day, one of my friends sent me a picture of a girl with the cryptic message “WKW MPDG”, standing for Wong Kar-wai Manic Pixie Dream Girl, and I was simultaneously happy that I understood what he was talking about, and sort of upset that I had descended so far into the film rabbit hole. Wong Kar-wai is one of the most famous auteurs of cinema, certainly most revered by the pretentious film buffs and the sensitive sadbois of the west. He is known for love stories with haunting overtones of missed connections, ones who got away, as well as violence and spectacle. Using techniques inspired by Nouvelle Vague, Wong Kar-wai has brought films to life for the last 35 years, and has become a cultural mainstay: his very name separating the neophytes from the initiated, the humble from the highbrow.
Wong Kar-wai’s visual trademarks are stamped throughout the show. The fractured mirror shots which show the characters from different angles and represent all the different faucets of the person. The close-ups on faces minus the nuance of Tony Leung. The vivid colours still somehow super saturated amidst the cold neon glow of Shanghai. But ultimately, that’s all they were, a sensual wrapper of a Chinese telenovela. The music weren’t the story-driving melodies that I had expected, instead melodramatic tunes that sounded tacky. Wong Kar-wai’s classic abuse of slow motion seemed to be the intersection of his style and the comically exaggerated cinematography of Asian dramas, the first sign that the aesthetics were simply a paint job to support the Chinese culture industry.
Though critics say that Wong Kar-wai has always been style without substance, Blossoms Shanghai shows that his previous work was very much style-driven substance, substance despite style, or style above substance. Blossoms Shanghai rings hollow because the narrative was conceived separately from the style. The television series is an adaptation from a novel, and Wong Kar-wai wasn’t credited as a writer, twice removing him from the creation of the narrative. Wong Kar-wai films have never been dialogue driven, despite their focus on character and immense quotability. Instead, the story lies in the pregnant pauses in conversation and the poignant looks the characters give one another. Like mirrors, shots from behind furniture and walls underscore a feeling of entrapment or voyeurism, but it feels like they’re present in Blossoms Shanghai for the sake of it. Voiceovers are used extensively in Wong Kar-wai films almost as monologues, generally with a montage of the characters passing through a period in their lives, depressive or idyllic. In Blossoms Shanghai , they were used for hasty plot exposition as opposed to character development, existing merely to explain historical context, bridge the holes in misunderstanding, and provide some clarification in Mandarin, since most of the dialogue was shot in Shanghainese.
As a native speaker of Shanghainese, I thought the choice to film the movie entirely in the dialect was impressive and another testament to Wong Kar-wai’s creative direction and clout. There is something surreal about seeing Shanghainese onscreen. The number of Shanghainese speakers is shrinking as a result of changing cultures in China, primarily mass immigration to Shanghai from rural areas and educational focus on Mandarin. Consequently, most young people in Shanghai can’t speak Shanghainese anymore. Wong Kar-wai emigrated from Shanghai when he was five years old, and likely spoke Shanghainese growing up, since he allegedly didn’t become fluent in Cantonese or English until he was a teenager. Then, the choice to film Blossoms Shanghai in Shanghainese is not only commitment to the bit like In the Mood for Love, but also a bit of a vanity project for Wong Kar-wai.
Though I was pretty disappointed with how Blossoms Shanghai looked at first glance, I will finish the series, likely idly while eating. If nothing else, it served as an excellent study of what makes Wong Kar-wai’s original creations unique. There is also still potential for the series to get better, as I’m only two episodes in. Although I doubt it slips past the guardrails of broadcast television, I do hope it does. It wouldn’t take much to appeal to this fanboy: a meaningful look here, a sad glace away there, and a dramatic bop. Alas, not much escapes the culture industry, even Wong Kar-wai. He started his career writing scripts for TVB after all. Ashes to ashes.
