Yi Yi

Modern cinematography is defined by quick cuts and copious close-ups designed to cater to our ever-shrinking attention spans. One of the problems with this approach is that it fails to give us a sense of place, a feel for how the characters interact with their environment.

Fortunately, there are still some filmmakers willing to pull the camera back and give their characters some space. Edward Yang's urban family drama "Yi Yi" perfectly illustrates the rewards of this approach. Yang lets us watch his players from a distance, paradoxically demonstrating both the claustrophobia and vastness of city life. In one scene, we see a young couple arguing while also viewing the street and park below. In another, the camera looks into a room as a woman sobs, while also showing us the reflection of the imposing city skyline off the windowpane. These characters are painfully packed in like sardines, yet their conflicts seem miniscule in the context of a sprawling city.

"Yi Yi" takes us through a turbulent year in the life of a Taiwanese family. At the center of the tale is NJ, an executive struggling to prop up a failing business while also rediscovering his passion for an old flame. His wife, Min-Min, is undergoing a spiritual conversion, while his children, son Yang-Yang and daughter Ting-Ting, struggle through the hormones and hassles of growing up. Min-Min's brother Ah-Di dreams big but can't get keep his finances or his marriage together, while her mother has gone into a coma.

Got all that? These characters obviously have a lot of emotional baggage, which leads to many poignant moments, as when Min-Min weeps to her unconscious mother over the depressingly dull routine of her life. Their various quests-for love, money, God, wisdom-lead them to a deeper understanding of both the joys and shortcomings of life. Like the characters of "Yi Yi," the viewer will need patience, but the results are quite rewarding.