The director Anthony Chen offers with “Wet Season” a sublime film filled with great visual richness. Under the rain of his native Singapore, he paints the portrait of a lost woman rediscovering the joys of life through her contact with one of her students.
“Smile.” This is the prescription given by a sign in Ling’s home. Yet, how difficult it is to smile in her life. A monotonous life where the only escape is the almost illusory dream of having a child after so many fruitless years. Neglected by her husband and responsible for her father-in-law, an old man in a wheelchair unable to say a word.
Her life is also her work as a Mandarin teacher in a Singapore that decisively embraces English, the language of business. This life, marked by failures, has become Ling’s daily reality, just like the torrential rains that pour down on the island during the monsoon season. That is until the providential arrival of one of her students in her life.
The young man, Wei Lun, is neglected by parents who are constantly on business trips. Forced by them to learn Mandarin, he is the only student in his class attending Ling’s lessons. He is particularly interested as he feels an attraction to her. From classroom lessons to private tutoring, a candid relationship develops between the two.
She rediscovers a taste for life through her contact with her student. Until passion takes over. Her reason is shaken by the young man’s fervor. She is also attracted but resists it. This relationship, with its vacillations that weigh on her career, primarily helps this woman regain self-confidence and a zest for life.
An Endless Rain
“Wet Season” is above all a visual work. Character elements are implicit, as is the context in which they operate. The camera is steady and brings life to the screen. The shots linger, extend in duration to better imbibe the story and atmosphere. The film’s pace is slow, mirroring the life of its protagonist.
Ling’s blocked horizon is visually represented by her constant framing within the scene. Indeed, an element of the decor, whether it be a wall, a table, or something else, continuously obstructs the image, leaving her no room to evolve and breathe. This oppressive confinement is complemented by the excessive downpours lashing Singapore. Here, the rain is a character in its own right, at times frightening and at times poetic.
In this increasingly dehumanized city-state of Singapore, the rain acts as a bridge to the character’s melancholy between this real world and the ideal. It exacerbates the tensions between the teacher and the student, leading to an outburst of passion from which no one will emerge unscathed.
Anthony Chen crafts a film whose strength lies in its dazzling modesty. A true ray of sunshine after the rain.
Paul Guianvarc’h
