Ash Is Purest White

The film's nearly empty, plodding pace hinges on the performance of Zhao Tao to communicate everything screen time and script does not. Luckily, she is quietly profound, speaking volumes in silence and expression. Without her performance, the film fails; with her, it is compelling - but only just. Credit must also be given to makeup, hair, and costuming, for pulling off a superb transformation-through-decades.

Some incredible visuals help this deeply allegorical tale of shifting cultural balances and other things that went over my head by about eight feet. Great acting, long takes, a love story about as satisfying as Tess of the d'Ubervilles, and almost half an hour of a woman trying to get back into the story after leaving prison. I know why this is good but it doesn't make me like it.

Tao Zhao's young wannabe gangster falls from loyalty to a man and rises again, over years and years, after prison, through ingenuity and persistence. While she does this, China parallels her movements, in all its egotism, decay, and renewal. It's a great, down-hearted performance, even if her travails only amount to something like scenery in the bigger picture. Jia is about the mood of a nation.

Qiao is one of the coolest characters of 2019, but the film around her is just alright.

Zhao Tao is a pleasure to watch, and I'm not sure what would be left of this movie if it wasn't for her performance. Her character is badass and confident, but also vulnerable, lost and in need of affection. That said, I felt like the third act took about 90 minutes, and multiple opportunities to end the movie were ignored in favor of yet another aimless epilogue. All the subtle portrayals of and commentaries on contemporary Chinese society went over my head for sure.