One Second – first look review | Little White Lies

Festivals

One Sec­ond – first look review

19 Sep 2021

Words by Daniel Schindel

Two people, likely men, sitting on a wooden structure outdoors against a blurred background.
Two people, likely men, sitting on a wooden structure outdoors against a blurred background.
A return to form for China’s Zhang Yimou with this tale of a vil­lage attempt­ing to restore a dam­aged movie reel.

Among the ranks of films described by their mak­ers as love let­ters to cin­e­ma,” few take that approach as lit­er­al­ly as Zhang Yimou’s One Sec­ond. Much of the plot revolves around a vil­lage com­ing togeth­er to repair a film reel that was unwound and trawled through mud while being deliv­ered to them. When towns­folk gath­er around the dirt­ied nest of cel­lu­loid laid out on a can­vas, they look like they’re mourn­ing a dead body. Zhang pays metic­u­lous atten­tion to the process of untan­gling and clean­ing the strip; res­i­dent pro­jec­tion­ist Mr Movie” (Fan Wei) drills the towns­folk in how to prop­er­ly han­dle it.

The movie in ques­tion is 1964’s Hero­ic Sons and Daugh­ters, about an army offi­cer who meets his child whom he gave up 18 years before, who by chance became the adopt­ed sis­ter of his now-fall­en com­rade. Just watch­ing One Sec­ond, you won’t be able to glean the film-within-the-film’s plot, but that con­text lends greater sig­nif­i­cance to its own story.

No one in town is more eager to see the film fixed and screened than an enig­mat­ic unnamed out­sider (Zhang Yi), who is even­tu­al­ly revealed to be a fugi­tive from a near­by prison farm. He’s received word that his own estranged daugh­ter appears some­where in the news­reel that will play before the fea­ture, and he escaped the farm sole­ly to see her again. Also after the film strip is local gamine Orphan Liu” (Liu Hao­cun), who wants to use some of it to make a lamp­shade, and whose pur­suit of it con­tin­u­al­ly puts her at odds with the fugitive.

That the three leads are all anony­mous or pseu­do­ny­mous adds to the story’s fable-like vibe and the inter­pre­ta­tion of each of them as an arche­type. Mr. Movie rep­re­sents pure rev­er­ence for film, tak­ing pride in his skills as a pro­jec­tion­ist. The fugi­tive hungers for the infor­ma­tion the news can offer, even if it is scant and couched in pro­pa­gan­da. Liu has a prac­ti­cal need that celluloid’s phys­i­cal form can ful­fil. Her prag­ma­tism con­trasts with Mr Movie’s roman­ti­cism and the fugitive’s yearn­ing. It’s also the flip side of the mourn­ful anec­dote about Georges Méliès’ films being melt­ed down and turned into boot heels in Mar­tin Scorsese’s Hugo. This movie is sim­i­lar­ly about impov­er­ished char­ac­ters nav­i­gat­ing their rela­tion­ships to art, but is more hard-nosed than sentimental.

Still, it’s clear that Zhang sym­pa­this­es most with Mr Movie’s out­look. When the time comes to screen Hero­ic Sons and Daugh­ters, he finds ways to invig­o­rate the hoary idea of the mag­ic” of the moviego­ing expe­ri­ence.” Before the show starts, the fugi­tive stands behind the screen as patrons play­ful­ly cast shad­ow pup­pets on it – a won­drous evo­ca­tion of both the com­mu­ni­ty in a shared moment of joy and his melan­choly sep­a­rate­ness from them.

One Sec­ond arrives more than two years after it was orig­i­nal­ly sup­posed to pre­mière at the 2019 Berlin Film Fes­ti­val. In the time since it was pulled at the last minute, it’s under­gone reed­its and at least some reshoots, appar­ent­ly to sat­is­fy con­tent demands from the Chi­nese gov­ern­ment. The film now stands only one minute short­er than its list­ed run­ning time in Berlin, and cur­rent­ly, no one out­side its pro­duc­tion and the bureau­cra­cy knows just what had to be changed and why. It’s a tes­ta­ment to Zhang and edi­tor Yuan Du’s skill that, what­ev­er the extent of the cuts/​additions, the result flows smoothly.

The pos­si­bil­i­ties are myr­i­ad, giv­en that the film is set dur­ing the polit­i­cal­ly sen­si­tive (to put it mild­ly) Cul­tur­al Rev­o­lu­tion. One could read still cri­tique amidst the story’s roman­ti­cism – like how the towns­peo­ple sing along to the movie’s pro­pa­gan­da songs, or how a troop of cops placid­ly watch it again after rough­ing up some pris­on­ers. What­ev­er the behind-the-scenes obtuse­ness, the result remains a clear-eyed but lov­ing trib­ute to film, just as Zhang always intended.

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