As Mandarin-language teacher Ling continues with fruitless IVF treatment while taking care of her ailing father-in-law, she finds herself slowly drawn towards a promising student who seems to have been abandoned by his parents. Outside its monsoon season, but Ling’s inner turmoil looks set to get her into a heap of trouble.
Anthony Chen’s sophomore feature is up for contention at the Academy Awards in Best Foreign Picture. His simplistic style meshes well with the slice-of-life story he’s telling. Between muted performances, rainy weather, and near-immovable camerawork his latest movie, “Wet Season,” feels gentle to its viewers. “Wet Season” doesn’t add more to the rote melodrama we’re used to seeing when it comes to teacher-student relationships, instead, focusing on the characters portrayed within and relying on visual details to allude to their inner life. It’s a very opaque film, but with a studious approach, you can glean much from its sparseness. All of this comes crashing to a halt in a climactic (and uncomfortable) scene taken so easily in stride it may shock viewers. “Wet Season” feels like “Call Me by Your Name” but ultimately lands in darker territory by virtue of its own breezy atmosphere and ruining some of its own magic.
Yeo Yann Yann plays Mrs. Ling, a Chinese teacher for high school students, in Singapore. While she educates horrible teenagers, she’s attempting in vitro fertilization with her absent husband’s sperm and caring for her bed-ridden father-in-law. Her life compounds tragedy on tragedy throughout the film, demonstrating domestic silent suffering. Her life jars abruptly when she starts teaching remedial Chinese to her student Wei Lun, played by Koh Jia Ler (in his second collaboration with the director.) The two help each other cope with life’s cruelties until their relationship, tinged slightly uncomfortable, takes an unforgivable turn and the last third unravels everything they did.
- NOTE: If you don’t want this movie spoiled don’t read further. I can’t write about this movie without discussing an important scene and knowing about the scene will impact how you view the movie.
Chen’s approach to this story feels airy and light, despite the constant downpour. At times, the camera moves a fraction of an inch or not at all, often taking in entire scenes through just one angle. The camera peers through doorways and windows, voyeuristically, adding an element of measured disturbance to the piece as a whole. This level approach helps ground the acting first and foremost while giving the audience time to appreciate the detailed work.
Wei Lun’s very aloof as far as characters go and it’s only through guessing that we gather he’s abandoned by his parents. The role Mrs. Ling plays in his life feels entirely complicated. His arrested development plays in bits and pieces, contrasted by Mrs. Ling’s stark demeanor. He may be the breath of fresh air she craves, but it comes at a cost. This childlike wonder manifests itself as attachment, romantic and sexual, on Wie Lu’s behalf culminating in a very questionable sex scene.
I know what Chen is going for in his portrayal of this moment. Wei Lun forces himself on her at first with novice enthusiasm, and Mrs. Ling eventually breaks down into accepting him. She protests at first, but settles in, even reaffirming him when he asks her if he’s “doing it wrong.” It’s a rough form of intimacy that implies two troubled figures swayed by the other’s energy. The rest of the movie plays out, taking the scene in stride, in its light manner that you’d be forgiven for questioning what you just watched. I, for my money, would argue that might be the most uncomfortable and realistic depiction of rape I have seen in such a domestic film, and the way the film breezes past it demonstrates a concerning attitude toward the dynamics of consent at play.
Obviously, teacher-student relationships are wrong. Teachers are authority figures trusted to educate and raise a generation without abusing their authority. Students are still unformed and those kinds of power dynamics will damage their growth and harm them for years to come. I see how Chen wanted to portray their love and keep the film running. He might not have wanted to stop and address this bit in anything other than a “breakup scene.” Still, for a movie like this… You can’t have your cake and eat it too.
This is why “Wet Season” falls apart for me in the final third. For a movie so invested in domestic drama and minuscule movements, it takes something quietly brutal and skips over it in many ways. By the very end, in fact, it rewards that scene by showing Mrs. Ling, pregnant with Wie Lu’s baby, smiling at the sun for the first time. The rain is over, it shows. New life is promised.
Chen’s direction in this movie feels at once open and subtle. The simplistic camera movements are meant to highlight the more literary aspects of the film. The dense symbolism, implied characterizations, and vague dialogue makes an opaque film more of a thought exercise. All of that beautiful work feels undone when taking into account the sexual nature their relationship takes on. By the final unraveling, we feel less attached to Wie Lu and more pitying of Mrs. Ling than perhaps Chen intended. To tread this line takes skill and while it may not have succeeded here, I’m curious about Chen’s debut feature film “Ilo Ilo.” I’d like to see him at his best, instead of his best applied to something… wrong.
In Select Theaters Friday, April 23rd
