A Touch of Sin

Overview

Recently blacklisted in its director’s native China, the new film from Jia Zhangke is a grim, unflinching ode to the disenfranchised masses. An anthology driven by fleeting acts of violence, A Touch of Sin marks something of a stylistic departure for the filmmaker, whose previous films, including Still Life and The World, were more naturalistic. Yet Zhangke’s concern for the exploitation of his country’s working class remains very much front and centre. It’s this compassion for those without options that ensures this film strikes a chord.

An unsettling prologue sets the movie's tone: three men with hatchets ambush a motorcyclist (Wang Baoqiang) on a deserted road, only to be mercilessly gunned down by their would-be victim. Afterwards, we’re introduced to Dahai (Jiang Wu), a righteously indignant coal miner in the impoverished province of Shanxi, who becomes increasingly obsessed with bringing corrupt local officials to justice. Dressed in his long green overcoat, Dahai sees himself as a hero for the common man. For a time, so do we. But with every bureaucratic setback, his crusade becomes more frenzied, before finally erupting into bloody vigilantism.

From there, Zhangke abruptly shifts direction, leaving Shanxi behind and picking up with the motorcyclist — a worldweary criminal whose name we learn is Zhou San. After a bittersweet evening with his family followed by a daring and violent robbery, the film switches protagonists again, peering in on the life of Xiaoyu (Zhao Tao, the director's wife), a lowly sauna receptionist who’s forced to defend herself against an overly aggressive customer. Finally, the film settles on Xiaohui, a kind young man whose job as a concierge at a high-end brothel sends him gradually into despair.

This fractured narrative proves somewhat problematic. While each of the characters are inherently sympathetic, that we don’t spend more than half an hour with any of them makes it hard to become fully invested. Dahai’s vignette — part absurd black comedy, part Death Wish-style revenge fantasy — is easily the most engaging, whereas the subsequent chapters grow increasingly slow-moving and introspective.

Truthfully, A Touch of Sin is less about its four leads, and more about the millions of others, both in China and around the globe, whose desperation has driven them to criminal activity and violence. Simple, lingering shots capture many scenes of privilege against a backdrop of poverty, none of which are more pointed than the sequence in which Xiaoyu’s wealthy attacker whips her with a thick wad of cash after she refuses to accept it for sex. What a perfect allegory for the relationship between the rich and poor: either concede to be screwed, or be beaten without mercy. While Zhangke’s structural approach can at times be emotionally distancing, his themes thankfully keep the movie feeling personal.