DUMPLINGS (2004)

Although a big fan of Asian cinema, I've often felt that in the horror stakes China has lagged a little behind the likes of South Korean and Japan in recent years. Looking a little further back, movies like Hell Has No Gates (aka We Are Going To Eat You - 1980) or Untold Story (1993) certainly put China at the very top of the gore class, but more recently, from what I've seen at least, the country has significant ground to recover in the genre in comparison to its near neighbours. However, although obviously not contrived in a style to compete with the likes of the J-Horror productions, 'Dumplings' presents a quirky, satirical and often downright disgusting package that is certainly a step in the right direction for the Chinese horror industry.

An edited version of the film was included in the Three...Extremes production, and it was notable that the piece and its director, Fruit Chan, comfortably stood out from the offerings of prolific Japanese filmmaker Takashi Miike, and perhaps even more impressively, the almost flawless South Korean vengeance obsessed virtuoso, Park Chan Wook. As stated previously in my review of Three Extremes on TFA, I felt the film's format, which necessitated constraining each director to a limited amount of screen time to tell their respective stories, was its undoing; therefore, it was with much delight that I received the full length copy of Dumplings, and sat down to eat at the proverbial table with a large appetite.
At the end of the visual feast, I was certainly fulfilled by the experience; this is a film that serves up a superb helping of horror, which at times is visceral to the point of nausea. This isn’t to say that it’s a movie with blood and guts flying all over the place, but rather the claret is sparsely yet dynamically employed along with sickening sound effects and a generally nasty storyline. Additionally, the narrative is accompanied by a subtle commentary on the disparities between the haves and the have nots in Chinese society. As the location flits between the sumptuous material lifestyle of Qing (Miriam Yeung) to the almost destitute residence of Aunt Mei (Ling Bai), there's a genuine feeling of insight into the contrasting lives of upper and lower classes in what for some is still a relatively translucent culture. Chan also presents a wry insight into male chauvinism and its perception of feminine beauty, which, as many advertisements, pop stars and mainstream media outlets continuously confirm in both East and West, is blind to all but shapely, attractive young women.

Written by director Chan along with Lilian Lee, the piece is based upon two central femme fatales; Qing, a former television star who is clinging to the precipice of youth in an attempt to stave off the descent into middle age by any means necessary, and Aunt Mei, a mysterious and remarkably youthful woman who delves into the forbidden arts to concoct beauty preserving dumplings made from the foetuses of aborted babies. The rich Qing swiftly becomes her best customer, visiting Mei's small residence in a decrepit apartment block on an ever increasing basis like an addict houding a drug dealer. Her driving motivations to maintain her looks are founded in vanity, as well as insecurities that her husband, a successful businessman, is losing interest in her. Unfortunately, it’s too late, as the husband in question has already began an affair with a much younger woman, and his extra-marital curriculum soon expands to include a steamy romp with Aunt Mei herself. Strangely enough though, these betrayals don't really cast Qing in a sympathetic light. Rather, her growing obsession to stay young and beautiful propels her headlong onto a vain and dangerous path, highlighted when her over-consumption of the rejuvenating dumplings damage her skin and cause her to emit a rotten smell at a dinner party.
Indeed, Maggie Cheung’s character has the feel of a Countess Dracula-type protagonist, which is highlighted by her ruthless, single minded approach; after one gut wrenching scene in which a young woman aborts her eight month old child after being raped by her father, Qing greedily devours the dumplings made from the child's remains. Obviously, this permits the viewer no doubts whatsoever that she will go to any length to stay young. At the very last, this is confirmed when, with Aunt Mei on the run from police, Qing aborts her own child in the bathtub in order to cook up a new batch of special Dim Sum.

Whilst watching Dumplings it will become apparent to some viewers, whether horror fans or otherwise, that the film will simply be too much for them to stomach. There’s something about it all, from the necro-cannibalism to the impact of patriarchal male chauvinism, that is truly sickening, which, in my eyes, makes it utterly unmissable. In an age of desensitization, it says something when a movie can evoke this sort of reaction, especially as the feelbad factor is primarily derived from the subject matter of the story rather than the employment of buckets of gore and tons of latex. The direction is simple yet involving, and the storylines and subplots intertwine smoothly without ever becoming needlessly over-elaborate. In fact, it’s probably as close to a modern age cinematic fable as I‘ve seen in a long time, with the emphasis being squarely upon the perils of vanity, obsession, betrayal and a myriad of other arguably destructive emotions. It’s simply an excellent movie, and one that will leave an impact on anyone who has the stomach to stick with it. In fact, I’ve taken to Dim Sums myself since watching this one, so it must have had some effect.