Exit (2014) A subtle showcase for Shiang-chyi Chen (Review)

The appearance of new film distributors in the UK is a significant occasion, especially when they are dealing exclusively with Asian cinema. The birth of Facet Films brings with it new possibilities, one of which is Chienn Hsiang’s directorial début – Exit. With this film, he follows the rich tradition that has given the world the likes of Mario Bava, Nic Roeg and Zhang Zimou, where the award-winning cinematographer is running the show for the first time.

Exit stars Shiang-chyi Chen as Ling; a woman abandoned by her husband to carry out familial duties, ignored by her teenage daughter Mei-Mei and given a redundancy package from work. If that wasn’t enough for a person to deal with, she is diagnosed with sudden onset menopause at 42. The aforementioned instigates crushing loneliness in Ling, exacerbated by a Taiwanese society that deems Women undesirable once they become menopausal. One day when visiting her Mother-in-Law at Hospital a new patient arrives, a man who has both his eyes under bandages, laboured in his breathing who is unfortunate enough to have no visitors. On a whim, Ling gives him a drink of water and in cleaning the subsequent spill from his chest, he calms down dramatically. The hospital-bound, named Chang, gives Ling human contact and someone who grows to rely on her, and in that she re-awakens with renewed purpose.

The title, Exit, works on two premises. The first characterization is the literal, described above via synopsis, in which Ling is trapped by her familial commitments and societal convention. And the second comes in the shape of her home. In the middle of the concrete jungle in which she lives, her front door of which refuses to open, trapping her inside. The finale is a devastating escalation that riffs on this plot element when the rest of the film is small in its movements.

Through the entire gamut of small incidental shots to the mass expanse of Taiwan’s architecture, Hsiang’s previous life as a cinematographer really comes to the fore. His superlative use of depth of field is as much of a visual treat as you’d expect from someone acclaimed for his work. Exit treats this common camera technique as an opportunity to employ visual subtext; Ling is isolated, therefore we see it as a visual motif to support and further compound the core aspects of characterization and narrative.

That continues through every photographic consideration. Calling back to that concrete structure, there is a recurring shot which uses a frame within a frame to accentuate Ling being part of a populous separate from everyone else. Only so much can be communicated by having your lead actor do menial tasks around the home, the rest has to be seen in the world at large. In that achievement, Hsiang and co-cinematographer Howard Hsu show their consideration for a meaningful image seeped deep into the location scouting process, an impressively thoughtful and thought-provoking feat.

As is the case with any beautifully framed art-house feature, without a sympathetic lead to pin the film on all the viewer would be present for is a video art installation – a very different proposition indeed. It’s too soon to talk about Chienn Hsiang the scriptwriter with a script composed heavily of stage directions, any and all dialogue is blink and you’ll miss it. This leaves a great deal to be communicated through a language unspoken by lead Shiang-chyi Chen.

Her face tells many a story, where there should be a proud Woman there is nought but a blank void struggling with each and every day. To truly evoke the endless pit that is depression is more complicated than merely looking sad, Chen finds that perfect balancing point. This facet of her performance makes her chaste reawakening a heart-warming and fulfilling experience, seeing the colour return to her eyes is both invigorating and somewhat awkward. These scenes where Ling cleans the equally isolated Chang is akin to observing something deeply private and personal, borrowing a documentary level of intimacy.

Exit sees oriental art-house cinema at its finest with a film resembling the Singaporean Ilo-Ilo or the Korean Treeless Mountain, comparisons made all the more impressive with this being Chienn Hsiang’s debut. What the future holds for this director no one knows, but the potential housed within this intelligently small film is immense. The same is true for Facet Films. Two films in and they have shown a remarkable level of flexibility: their first film, Salute! Sun Yat-Sen, was a slapstick social satire and the second, Exit, sees the role women play in Taiwanese society put under the microscope. The on-disc presentation continues on point, using the assets from the gorgeous cinematography and complimentary minimalism that shows up companies that have been established for years. Who knows where Facet Films are headed next, all we know is that the possibilities are exhilarating.

Thanks for reading our review of Exit

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