5.9/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 5.9/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. Fenhongse de meng remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you like period dramas where people spend half the time staring longingly at cigarettes and the other half making terrible life choices, you'll probably dig this. It’s got that specific, dusty charm of old Shanghai cinema. But if you need your protagonists to be even remotely likable? You’re gonna have a rough time. The writer-husband is the kind of guy who makes you want to reach through the screen and shake him.
The film starts off sweet enough. We see this guy and his wife in their tiny apartment, and you think, 'Okay, this is going to be a story about art and sacrifice.' Then the socialite shows up, and the movie basically just turns into a long, slow-motion car crash of a mid-life crisis.
Those dance hall scenes are something else. The way the camera moves through the crowded, hazy rooms feels almost dizzying, which I’m sure was the point. It’s all jazz and fake smiles and cheap booze. There’s a moment where the novelist is just sitting there, looking at his reflection in a glass, and it lasts for maybe forty seconds too long. I almost checked my phone, but then I realized the awkwardness was kind of the point.
The wife, on the other hand, is just… a saint. Maybe too much of a saint? She’s working these grueling hours to pay for his writing desk and his fancy notebooks, and he’s out drinking champagne with people he doesn’t even like. It’s infuriating.
It’s not as polished as This Is the Night, and it definitely lacks the strange, experimental energy of Rhythmus 21, but there’s a pulse here. It feels like a real, flawed human story. The ending doesn't give you a neat bow either. It just sort of stops, which I appreciated. Not every mistake needs a moral lesson attached to it, right?
Sometimes the film feels like it’s trying to be a bit too sophisticated for its own good. There are these long, silent pauses that feel like they're trying to hide the fact that the dialogue isn't doing all the heavy lifting. But the atmosphere? It sticks to your ribs. 🍸
