QUITTING (2001), dir. Zhang Yang

There has been no shortage of drug movies in recent years, but this one is noteworthy, mainly because of how the material is presented. Despite a plot that sounds like standard movie-of-the-week fare – the real-life story of actor Jia Hongsheng’s struggle with heroin addiction – the end result is engrossing. Part of that immediacy comes from director Yang’s decision to take the phrase “art imitating life” at its most literal, casting Hongsheng and his family as themselves in what amounts to a re-enactment of their personal Hell.

“Quitting” chronicles the four years during which Hongsheng’s parents and sister moved in with him, provided for his needs, and tried to help him break free of drug addiction and depression, twin demons that left him disassociated from the outside world. Once a moderately-successful film actor, he had not taken a role in years, instead secluding himself in his apartment to watch television and listen to music. Starting at the protagonists’ lows before crawling toward redemption, “Quitting” shows the family contending with Hongsheng’s unpredictable mood swings, their own stability as a unit exceedingly threatened by his anti-social behavior, which includes verbal and physical violence.

But as unsettling as the movie can get at times, director Yang, who is known for his humane attitude, is less interested in the visceral aspects of conflict, concentrating more on the insides of his characters’ heads. In the case of Hongsheng, he cuts in voice-overs and interviews with his present self, ultimately humanizing the monster into a beast we can partially understand: his urge for higher levels of experience, enthusiastic embrace of western culture, and rage against his parents’ more traditional, bucolic ways turning out to be derived from something as ordinary as a yearning to be special, itself a response to personal insecurities.

Meanwhile, as Hongsheng’s parents do everything we expect of nosy parents, we are made privy to their secret conversations and de-stabilizing of their relationship, how their strictness and nagging turns out to be counterbalanced by the unthinkable: growing fear of their own blood. Given that all these actors are really playing themselves, the performances take on an eerie life of their own; the scene in which Hongsheng, drunk, starts slapping around his father feels especially traumatic. Fortunately, the director chose to frame “Quitting” as a movie about a play, which in turn, is about real-life-events, and whenever things get too intense, Yang pulls back the camera to reveal how this is all theater, which provides the necessary emotional distance.

Some may complain about using such a device at all, but stage drama does take its power from unfolding real life before the audience’s eyes, which is the same effect Yang achieves through his casting. Admittedly, it can be awkward getting used to it at first, as is attempting to empathize with Hongsheng’s self-absorbed, ungrateful young man, but one comes away respecting his willingness not to be likeable. As Hongsheng himself learns about going cold turkey, sticking with “Quitting” long-term is a good decision.

Overall rating: ***1/2 (out of ****)

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