"The Scent of Green Papaya" (1994)

Notice the houses in The Scent of Green Papaya: huge, sprawling, and yet, deeply, almost uncomfortably, empty. There are people in the two houses where the majority of the film’s narrative occurs, but director Tran Anh Hung frames his actors so the space seems to overwhelm them. It’s constantly confining them. There isn’t a whole lot of plot to the film; it’s sustained more by tone and atmosphere, and it’s partially as compelling as it is due to how Hung shoots the film. But his stylistic choice makes sense: the film is about loss, isolation and muted passions. Set in 1950’s and 60’s Vietnam, the film is really two very different stories, a family drama and a love affair, connected by protagonist Mui, who becomes a servant in a fractured household at the age of ten. The first story dominates the narrative: Mui is not only a servant, and an observer of some tragic and overwhelming drama, but she’s a reminder of the family’s own loss of their daughter. She’s the age that their daughter would have been if she were still alive. This is one of many voids that need filling: the grandmother’s husband has long been dead (and she has an unrequited suitor who she refuses to let into her life), the eldest son is hardly ever around, and the father’s crippling gambling habits make him a flighty presence at best. The film flashes ahead ten years later: the family is still broken, perhaps irreparably, but they’re managing. Mui is hired by a bachelor, a friend of her former employer's eldest son, who’s nearly engaged to a woman, but he appears disinterested and disconnected. The second story turns Mui from an observer and to an agent of her own destiny. She and her employer slowly fall for one another. But this isn’t sordid; it’s flush with real emotion, and it’s the culmination of a lifetime of standing idly by watching the world crush spirits and dreams. 

Grade: B+