Dumplings Review (Sunday Business Post)

Dumplings
Review: Jonathan McCrea
Director: Fruit Chan
Cert 18

With the exception of the Scream franchise, the offerings from Hollywood distributors during the 90s were relatively devoid of horror, mostly for financial reasons. The noticeable vacuum of gore was filled eagerly by bold new voices from the East as directors such as Hideo Nakata (The Ring) and Takashi Miike (Audition) enjoyed overseas recognition and significant home video sales. Alas, the net result of such accomplishments has been a recent stream of sadistic piffle being coughed out by ever-hungry studios. Dumplings is a prime example of the emerging dependency of Asian directors on shock-tactics for titillation as Fruit Chan amps up the gristle.
Qing Lee (Miriam Yeung) is a kept woman married to a wayward husband. A once-popular TV actress she has struggled to maintain her spouse’s affections and now seeks any remedy that will restore the status quo. In her search she comes across a mysterious chef Mei (Bai Ling) whose dumplings are said to have the ability to revert the ravages of time. When Qing discovers the active ingredient of the dim sum, she begins a Faustian tryst with the diabolical Mei.
Through luscious colours and nauseating sound effects, Dumplings director Chan Fruit serves up scene after scene of deeds most foul in this ghastly endeavour. At one point a disturbingly realistic and gruelling backstreet abortion is presented with a level of irreverence that begs for the scissors of a censor. Later on, we’re treated to the sight of Yeung’s character Qing chomp down on the limbs of a stillborn foetus. Images that will linger in the mind no doubt, but whether this sort of depravity amounts to entertainment depends on the sanity of the viewer.
Otherwise, the narrative of the film is sparse, betraying the fact that Dumplings is actually a remake of Chan’s eponymous short film. In between the gristle there is precious little to harvest in the way of emotional involvement, though the film may better classified as drama rather than horror. The frequent and lengthy dialogues between Mei and her customers all revolve around the same tired premise: the modern woman’s unquenching thirst for youth.
These dull exchanges are presumably aspirations to platonic philosophy but Chan’s real achievement here was in finding the considerable number of people it takes to make a feature and convincing them to take part. Distasteful in the extreme.

* (1 star)