Reviewed by Marc Savlov
Dir. Tran Anh Hung
Bizarre, arresting, and wholly original, Cyclo (1995) is like nothing you’ve ever seen before, except perhaps in uneasy slumbers. Set in modern-day Ho Chi Minh City, writer-director Tran Anh Hung (The Scent of Green Papaya) plunges the audience head first into the seamy, restless underbelly of Vietnam’s most famous city.
Our guide is 18-year-old Cyclo (Le Van Loc), one of the thousands of young men who make their meager living shuttling nameless passengers throughout the city via “cyclos,” large, three-wheeled bicycles with seats attached to their fronts. Cyclo’s father, also a cyclo driver, was killed in a recent traffic accident and memories of his father’s admonitions to “try to find a better life” weigh heavily upon the young man’s soul. Cyclo lives in a tiny tenement with his older sister (Tran Nu Yên-Khê), who makes water deliveries to the nearby market; his younger sister, who shines shoes in the market; and his aged grandfather, who repairs cyclo tires.
Hung is a master of the visual, filling every frame with a riot of color, texture, and sound. His lengthy shots of water running down smooth skin as someone bathes are positively surreal at times, while his nightmarishly gorgeous images of Ho Chi Minh City are like something out of a Hieronymous Bosch painting.
Loc, as Cyclo, turns in a brilliant, sedate performance; his expression is forever neutral, but the chaos before him is clearly reflected in his quiet eyes. Hong Kong action star Tony Leung is also on hand as the lover of Cyclo’s older sister; once again, Leung proves he’s one of the Crown Colony’s finest actors.
Cyclo is a rich, gritty, and ultimately distressing feast for the eyes. It’s a dark and dirty dream that stays with you long after you leave the theatre.
Review courtesy of the Austin Chronicle
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