by Finnlay Dall
Worth: $11.80
FilmInk rates movies out of $20 — the score indicates the amount we believe a ticket to the movie to be worth
Cast:
Yu An, Xiaoyi Chen, Cuishan Liang, Ruguang Wei
Intro:
… an exercise in balance … no matter which way you go with the film, you may end up wondering what could have been.
We all have a tendency to watch people. It’s part of our nature to be curious about the other lives who pass us by. On particularly quiet days, the act becomes a form of entertainment, noticing the quirks, chatter and general behaviour of your fellow man. Yet, there exists a far less empathetic side to the practice; a voyeurism that views the people around us, not as fellow humans, but as wild creatures to be studied.
Jiajun Oscar Zhang uses his debut feature, All, or Nothing at All to explore this inherent dichotomy, presenting the film in two halves, hence the “All” or “Nothing at All” of the title.
“All” follows Yoyo (Xiaoyi Chen), a dispassionate young woman, who spends her time in Global Harbour Shopping Mall, bumping shoulders with strangers, sketching heart-shaped latté art from her barista, or staring vacantly into pet shop enclosures. Despite her many detours, the one place tgat she never fails to stop by is the dance studio. This is where Lan Tian (Yu An) works. It’s clear that there’s history here that we, as the audience, are not privy to. Yet.
Yoyo is harassed by employees of a skincare kiosk when she doesn’t accept a sample. She speaks candidly with single mother Perry (Cuishan Liang) as if they were long time frenemies. When the café replaces Yoyo’s usual heart-shaped foam art, offering a snowflake instead, she confronts the staff to find the person responsible.
But it’s Lan Tian’s obliviousness toward her that upsets Yoyo most of all. In all of their time together, he never quite looks in her direction, and when she asks him about the day it snowed in Shanghai, he has no recollection of it. Determined to get his attention, she plans to surprise him on the day of the dance studio’s recital, hoping that he might look her way.
“Nothing at All” follows Lan Tian, a meek and socially awkward filmmaker trying to document the urban ecosystem of Global Harbour Shopping Mall. Hoping to capture the “love” of the people residing within, he uses his phone to record food delivery workers, baristas serving beautifully crafted foam art, and other everyday people roaming the polished halls. One particular girl captures his eye, Yoyo, who works as a saleswoman for a skincare clinic, under the shrewd watchful eye of her manager Perry.
Smitten, Lan Tian makes an effort to visit Yoyo every day, pretending to be interested in the product, while she pretends to sell him on the company’s “VIP” WhatsApp group. Through their intimate chats, the pair soon develop feelings for one another. However, as Yoyo finds Lan Tian’s filming more and more invasive, to the point where it affects her work, she has no choice but to break off the relationship.
All, or Nothing at All’s main conceit is the order in which you watch the two halves. Depending on your screening, you may see a version that begins with the other half. For some audiences, the film will flash forward to Yoyo’s story, while others will flashback to Lan Tian’s film project. This experimental approach attempts to create a different perspective for each viewing, allowing audience members to come away with contrasting ideas about the art of observation.
Despite Zhang’s intention to create a more nebulous experience, “Nothing at All” will resonate with audiences far more.
“All” features picturesque cinematography but future Yoyo, regardless of her backstory coming first or last, is given little to do. Her re-try at love with Lan Tian feels much weaker than Lan Tian’s obsessive and calculated voyeurism in “Nothing at All”. But maybe that’s by design.
“Nothing at All” is prescient in its oppressiveness. Security cameras take up shadowed frames as hulking monoliths. Meanwhile, Perry scolds Yoyo in a long dark hallway, but has to stop saying too much when a janitor enters. It’s Perry who gets the most depth in this half – she may be a brutal manager to Yoyo, but her anger stems from a fear that the young girl may be swept up in something far worse. As she says, upper management is “always listening”.
Lan Tian’s motives as a documentarian also allows this half to question the ethics of filming strangers. When the gig worker is being interviewed by Lan Tian outside the mall, he looks perplexed, asking “So, I’m your material?” His face, boxed in by the smartphone perspective, soon cuts to Yoyo in the same framing. Defeated, her pout implies the same question. Is that all our love is? Material for your film?
“Nothing at All” speaks to the modern problems of consent, filming and social media’s role in both processes. Furthermore, it touches on the more specific issue of government observation. “All”, by comparison, aspires to say something about observation being a practice in empathy, but fails to produce a romance that is fulfilling enough to provide an antidote to the other section’s unwavering cynicism.
All, or Nothing at All is an exercise in balance. Empathy and judgement are two sides of the same coin, but it’s clear that Zhang weighted the film to favour one side over the other. And despite the great camerawork is in both halves, any experience leaves audiences feeling bitter – either by a cynical ending, or a too-neat wrap-up. A bit like life, no matter which way you go with the film, you may end up wondering what could have been.
