Written and directed by Song Fang
Starring Qi Xi
Running time: 1 hour and 33 minutes
MPAA rating: unrated

by Jaime Davis, The Fixer

Loss comes in many different forms, wearing many different faces. We all handle loss, specifically break-ups, in very different ways. Me? I keep Pride & Prejudice (2005 film), Pride and Prejudice (1995 BBC TV adaptation), and Sense and Sensibility (1995 film) on repeat while drinking copious amounts of Sleepytime tea with honey and stuffing myself full of home-baked chocolate chip cookies. It’s all about comfort for me when I’m processing. For Lin Tong, who we follow around in The Calming post-break-up from her long-term partner, processing is a little quieter, way less British, with nary a freshly baked treat in sight.

Actor and director Song Fang, most notable for her performance in Flight of the Red Balloon and for her film Memories Look at Me, has returned with a new feature screening at the New York Film Festival that feels highly autobiographical, employing similar elements of documentary. In The Calming, Lin (a melancholy, layered Qi Xi), a documentary filmmaker, preps her latest work for viewing when she reveals to friends that she and her significant other are no longer together. She also visits with her parents, played by Song’s real-life mother and father, caring for them as they start to age. As the movie unfolds, the camera examines Lin closely as she travels between Japan, Beijing, Hong Kong, and other parts of China, listlessly staring out of taxi and train windows as her body moves from place to place. But where is her mind? We don’t always know, which may frustrate some viewers, but completely enraptured me. I was able to fill in the blanks on my own, using my own subjective thinking to imagine what Lin might be thinking and feeling. We’ve all experienced some form of loss and, in this way, Song and The Calming allow us to transpose our own perspectives onto Lin as we watch her move, zombie-like, through her pain. The film is essentially a mood piece on how it can actually feel (for some) after the end of a relationship - a slow, surreal unfolding of grief, a quiet shock as your body and mind adjust to the loss.

As a documentary filmmaker, Lin’s job is to observe, and we watch her watch others throughout much of the 93 minute run time. Always appearing to be outside looking in, she watches people in a shop, fellow diners at a restaurant, and converses with acquaintances at times as if she’s not really present. Throughout the majority of the film, she exists in near-permanent beige and gray as she explores the outdoors, goes to an opera or attends a screening of her work. She’s a muted neutral quietly wandering the world. It takes some time, but eventually we see signs of Lin’s awakening - her hair, typically secured in a low ponytail, comes free at times while the last shot of her feels a little whiter and brighter. While I use a variety of Jane Austen adaptations and snacks to shake the sads out of me, Lin uses nature and art as catharsis.

Nature features prominently throughout the film - Song ushers us from moment to moment, city to city, without any kind of musical score or soundtrack other than ambient noise from nature or the surrounding urban environment. In this way, we are fully present as Lin processes, no distractions. Shots of Japanese mountains, Chinese countryside, and Hong Kong scenery are long and languid, with meticulous compositions that are beautiful to behold. Sure, not much happens in the frame, or in the story; time appears to stand still as the movie slowly floats by. While that may not be exciting or enticing enough for many audiences, The Calming is a timely visual mood board, a near-relaxing vacation without the hassles of travel. Much like the 2020 many of us are living through right now, it’s a chance to slow down, think things through, and just breathe.