The World and A Touch of Sin

Jia Zhangke's The World and A Touch of Sin approach the notion of global capitalism through two distinct ways: lack of isolation and violence. Though they briefly overlap, the two films seem distinct enough to warrant individual analyses, if only for the way the camera moves and acts in The World and the use of violence in A Touch of Sin.

What is striking about The World is not that it attempts to address the relationship to the global in a park featuring miniaturized landmarks from around the globe, but instead that it does so in a way that investigates the meaning of being alone within such an environment. The opening scene sets the tone for the rest of film: vibrant colors, chaos, and people as performers everywhere. The exception here being the camera movement which, after following Tao through the halls throughout the scene, becomes much calmer and steadier in the rest of the film. Because the length of shots remains almost unnervingly long—specifically in a number of dialog scenes—the film casts the camera as another body within the scene. It seems to linger far longer than it should, and stays in rooms while other characters come and go (particularly with the scenes involving Wei and Niu). In a related way, this addresses the notion of individuality because of how seldom characters actually get to be alone. Performers are constantly entering rooms, leaving because someone has to change, or just loitering in the halls backstage. Even in the rare cases where Tao or others are actually alone—like when she is riding the tram around the park—we hear the voice over the loudspeaker. By combining this penetrating sight of the camera with the constant inability to be alone, the film seems to be hinting at the constant stimulation and encounters that are associated with the spread of technology and capitalism. Like the blurring of the divide between work and leisure time, The World showcases this same decreasing divide between the individual and their connection to others.

This can also be seen in the illustrated sections of the film, which always occur when a character is responding to another through text message. While some hint at being fantasy, like Tao's dream of flying and “being free,” they all assume the perspective of those looking at the phone in an attempt to display their reaction to the other person. Particularly with the final case—when Tao intercepts the message from Qun—the feel of the illustration becomes dark and swamp-like, mirroring how the message has affected Tao. In this way, Jia and the film call attention specifically to this divide: where the individual is pulled into the multiple. Just as we see the modern sense of capitalism depicted in Yella, here we see the modern notion of societal interaction in the age of globalization and widespread technology.

Where The World and A Touch of Sin intersect (and then part again) is their commentary on capitalism, which revolves around death. The most telling scene in The World follows Little Sister's death, which we learn is caused because the pay of working at night is better than in the day. Not only does the long shot outside the hospital room create anxiety for what the note actually says, but it also draws so much attention to his brother's sobbing that it boarders on being excessive. Jia and the camera force us to stay there and observe him crying much longer than we want to, which doesn't appear in A Touch of Sin. While there is certainly death as a result of capitalism, the camera functions much differently because it's no longer another witness; it instead becomes more stylized. Particularly for the Dahai story, the camera is constantly trying to show us more violence and more blood. While we could just as easily see Dahai enter the accountant's house, hear the gunshot and watch him come out, we are meant to watch his face being shot off. And we have to see the gun shots during the robbery, and the knife wounds, and the suicide. In this way, I would suggest A Touch of Sin is not just highlighting the resulting violence of capitalism, but is entirely dependent on it.

I wonder if Dr. Abel could comment on some point about the use of violence in the film (and, by extension, judgment) in relation to his book Violent Affect. I am interested in the Dahai storyline because it seems to cinematically align with Patrick Bateman in terms of the pleasure they derive from their killings: the image of Dahai's bloody grin in the back of the car seems to correlate nicely with Bateman's blood-smeared face as he wields a chainsaw. While the satire and metaphor of the novel is nonexistent in A Touch of Sin, both characters are still related to “capitalism's cannibalistic cruelty” (42) in their own way. And while Dahai may not be seen as a “ludicrous monster” like Bateman (43) because we can understand his motives and his mannerisms aren't over the top, he seems to arrive at a similar place in terms of violence. My question would be if our suspension of judgment—the act of taking no stance—is augmented at all because of the difference in characters. In other words, whether the process of masocritism is changed if, instead of looking at an event like 9/11, an event is represented where we may understand the motives behind the violence that might issue an answer to “why?”--as in the case of Dehai and the belief that his village is being cheated out of money.