Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
I showed up to the Music Box Theatre’s late Saturday afternoon screening of A Touch of Sin a few minutes after the previews had started. The theater was nearly full, so I took a seat in the front row to avoid stepping over anyone. Sitting close to the screen proved a benefit—I doubt I would have been so affected by the movie’s violence if it weren’t right in my face. One image that keeps returning to me is that of a fresh murder victim felled by multiple shotgun blasts, the smoke rising up off his bullet wounds and making his corpse resemble a volcanic surface. It shouldn’t be beautiful, yet director Jia Zhang-ke holds the shot till the smoke transcends any narrative function and exists solely as an image. It’s a serene moment—and so unexpected after the shock of seeing someone killed. Jia inspires here uneasy sympathy with the murderer in his moment of catharsis. The immediate result of his crime is that the world around him—which until now had been so oppressive—seems less significant than a few wisps of smoke.
