Fresh off massive international acclaim for The Day The Sun Turned Cold (Best Director Award at the Tokyo International Film Festival) and The Sun Has Ears (shared directing prize at the Berlin International Film Festival), Yim Ho tackled Banana Yoshimoto's hugely popular 1988 novel Kitchen. Reportedly veering away quite substantially from the structure of the novel, it doesn't seem like Yim Ho ultimately got much of a critical backlash. From a section of devotees of Banana Yoshimoto's perhaps but as someone lazy enough not to compare the written and the filmed, I go with the sensibility of written vs. film will always come with controversy. You can never please everyone and adaptations require work to translate to film. But familiarizing yourself with the beats of Banana Yoshimoto's novel should set you up enough to spot differences in Yim Ho's vision. Differences of the better, alluring kind? I know it's alluring anyway.

So the setting is moved to Hong Kong, names and character occupations have been replaced while the first person perspective from the novel now comes more from Jordan Chan's Louie BUT... a 100 page novel that was hailed for its brief but affecting nature is logically translated into a movie with affecting emotions told very sparsely. And that is why you get Yim Ho to direct the adaptation. Also made into an 1989 Japanese TV movie, we look at Kitchen and notice how much Yim Ho is having stylistic playtime with cinematographer Poon Hang-Sang. Almost to the point where we're scared he's going to venture of into abstract arthouse territory. Rest assured, aside from a select few puzzling and odd, almost dreamlike scenes, Yim Ho instead comes off as the filmmaker wanting a soothing, professional looking atmosphere to surround the human relationships on display. Comes off as a filmmaker wanting to grow also.

With the notion of the kitchen being a key and awakening for Aggie, it's in reality part of many focal points, with the central being the notion of how much we rely on our fellow man during times when the unpredictable life rattles you in a big, bad way. Going from apathy and within showing signs of mental instability, the point of the story of awakening is that you wake up and latch onto things that may not seem logical or sane. Aggie's jump to infatuation with the kitchen just happens but who's to say how you map out the human mind? And who's to say any step towards bettering yourself is a wrong step? Through life's ups and downs, you do bad, you do good but hopefully end up at a point of a positive nature where no step before it equals that of regret. Aggie being part of a playful mother/son relationship of course becomes the one her fellow duo looks to for support so it's characters going through the same cycles in quite a fascinating, low-key way.

Coupled with the beautiful, soothing score by Uchihashi Kazuhisa and Otomo Yoshihide (Summer Snow), Yim Ho provides very clear journeys where little by little Louie and Aggie begin to appreciate what they mean for each other. Some trouble along the way has to do with their actual, very fast transition to being very close and right for each other and it also leads to some puzzling scenes that do flirt with abstract notions not belonging in a Yim Ho frame. It doesn't come off as complex in a valid way but overall from the point where we realize the relationship dynamics in the long run, Kitchen has quite an amazing, simple-minded flow. The less complex, the more beautiful human emotions you can achieve and Yim Ho does that. Best complexity though is that of how open, conscious or not, you are to deciding how you want to lay out every step in life. Aggie in this case is quite firm in stating that sex won't bring any emotional solution but there's an argument against that decided step which makes the train of thoughts very involving.

Without friends, family or all out support, humans become unreasonable and that's not saying we need company all the time but we can't abandon or risk the chance of losing them consciously. But Kitchen preaches unpredictability early obviously since the first starting point is that of tragedy and it never lets go off that stance. Well-conveyed and easy to pick up on, a trio of different performers add to this in their own little way. Jordan Chan impresses the most, being a young performer so well immersed into this universe AND bringing tons of heart to it by himself. Law Kar-Ying in drag can take some getting used to (seeing as he's often called upon to be a comedic performer in film normally) but part of the broken, scarred trio of characters he is. So while not the primary focus, Tomita Yasuko performs a challenging character superbly because we go back to that mentally unstable, lacking logic way of clinging on to life again and the character naturally has to come off as off-beat at times. So it's quite life affirming work by Yim Ho, a movie destined to be small and had it not been for said oddities sprinkled sporadically throughout as well as the unwillingness to finish the last 15 minutes more efficiently, it would've been perhaps THE Yim Ho work. As it stands now, strong amidst a body of work being stronger is certainly nothing to be ashamed of. Doesn't that feel uplifting?

After her grandmother dies, young orpan Aggie stumbles away from the funeral service traumatised by her tremendous loss. Coming to her aid is unusual looking stranger Louis (Chan) who was also a friend of the deceased and works as a hairdresser in Hong Kong. Taking the distraught Aggie back to the flat he shares with his mother, Louis' softer side is gradually revealed even though the new lodger still cannot speak. In the course of the next few days Aggie finally breaks her silence and thanks her friends for the patience they've shown with her. However, the relationship she shares with Louis is one neither understands, though his peculiar girlfriend doesn't see it like that. Only after he suffers a bereavement do the pair feel comfortable with each other, but still they cannot express what they mean to one another.

Based on a cult novel, 'Kitchen' introduces an interesting premise that touches on popular Hong Kong themes i.e. unrequited love and the relationship between two of life's shattered souls. With such a well-trod, yet effective path, it was reasonable to expect another powerful drama to challenge the heart and mind. Unfortunately, as good as some of the parts are, the whole fails to deliver its promise and once again falls foul of the 'style over substance' problem. Director Yim Ho has no difficulty in utilising the effective cinematography or creating an atmosphere apt for the drama. However, he stumbles in giving the film a real heart; even though the characters, especially Jordan Chan's, the feeling that is defined early on does not last the duration. Instead of fleshing out the main players and giving them the three-dimensional qualities they need, Yim Ho relies on their idiosyncracies and supposes that this makes them more human; Aggie, in particular, is introduced as an understandably traumatised woman, but then slips into 'quirky' mode soon after. In a film so reliant on two differing characters having sharing a love that is realistic, this is a major disappointment. There's also ending after ending to contend with and the fact that a few chances to finish on a great closing moment are lost.

'Kitchen' is watchable, of course for Jordan Chan's first-rate display, though it tends to languish in pretentiousness when a firmer hand would have been far more effective.

PICTURE: An early disc from Mei Ah with no menu features. Packaging claims the print is 4:3, but it is in fact widescreen. Although it isn't a flawless print, this is better than expected considering this is one of the early disc. There is signs of pixellation and a very pale look to some scenes, alongside a few scratches. However, for the most part this is fairly good with a reasonable level of colour depth.

SOUND: Cantonese or Mandarin soundtracks with English and Chinese subtitles (burnt in, but easy to read for the most part).

Louis is a hairdresser who lives with his mother, Emma (played by male actor Law Kar-Ying). When one of his clients dies, her granddaughter Aggie moves in with them. When she first moves in, she doesn't speak, overwhelmed with grief. Eventually, she comes out of her shell and becomes a part of their family. At the same time, a romance begins to develop between her and Louis. She is hesitant to get involved, because she perceives him as somewhat of a playboy, and she has suffered enough already.

Kitchen is a magical film. The script holds a deeply romantic view of life, and this is reflected in other aspects of the film as well. The set design is quite beautiful, particularly the house in which Louis, Aggie, and Emma live. Often different scenes seem to have a color which defines it, dominating the visual field. The direction is fairly simple, though Yim Ho uses some lovely directorial and editorial tricks in a wonderful dream sequence.

Jordan Chan is, unsurprisingly, excellent. While he is often called upon to be little more than a weird funny guy, in Kitchen he brings a lot of depth beneath the surface weirdness. Law Kar-Ying is surprisingly un-campy as a Emma. I generally think of him as the strange older guy in a Stephen Chow comedy, but he is truly convincing as Louis' mother, and the fact that he is a man is not distracting. I'm not sure how I feel about Yasuko Tomita's performance. She seems to be exaggerating her expressions, often looking like a child. On the other hand, this does make for an interesting character. It is difficult to tell if she was doing this intentionally or not. I suspect that this will grow on me in repeated viewings. Sadly, Karen Mok has only a small role in the film (I'm still waiting for the day when she gets a role sizeable enough for her talent).

Kitchen sometimes seems to be trying a bit too hard to be quirky, though it avoids going overboard and becoming a collection of strange mannerisms and character traits. One of my favorite quirks is Aggie's fixation on smells and her enjoyment of the kitchen (thus the title). I would have liked to see this more developed, as there is not hint of why she feels this way, but it was interesting without feeling pointless. There are also several repeated symbols used throughout the film, including knives and the moon. Fortunately, Yim Ho goes to the trouble to bring some meaning to these symbols, rather than throwing them in merely for sake of being arty.

I can't finish the review without mentioning the music. There is only one piece of music in the entire film, repeated with numerous variations. Fortunately, it is a good piece of music and fits the mood of the film perfectly.

I am a sucker for this type of film. Sure, it is sentimental and sappy, but it well done sentiment and sap. If you like this sort of thing, then Kitchen is a fine example of how these things can be done well.

It comes as an initial surprise that Hong Kong's Yim Ho would choose to undertake a film project based on Banana Yoshimoto's international bestseller, KITCHEN, which was a sparse narrative based on the intricate interaction between a few individuals set I n a modern cityscape. Yim, who has managed to maintain his auteur status amidst the highly commercialized Hong Kong film industry, has been known for a historical and epic visual style with films which were made mainly in mainland China such as RED DUST ( 1990) and THE KING OF CHESS (1991). In recent years, Yim has made films which questioned giant themes such as morality, justice and human nature in dramas set in rural China: THE DAY THE SUN TURNED COLD (1994) and THE SUN HAS EARS (1996). On the other hand, author Yoshimoto has been accused by countless detractors as a fashionable literary lightweight, in full contrast to Yim's penchant for Dostoevskian material. (There are even web pages dedicated to "Banana Bashing".)

But KITCHEN reveals that the director has not strayed away from his exploration of the complexities of the human condition. Rather, he has merely shrunk from his usual scale of production and zoomed right into the dynamism of human interaction. Unlike man y films based on literary works, Yim, who wrote the screenplay, succeeded not only in transposing the work into the film medium but also in strengthening the narrative with much creative input. More importantly, he instilled a personal reading of the source material to an extent which enables the film to stand on its own rather then being a recycled rendition of its source.

Yim's KITCHEN opens with a beautiful sequence of rainfall and the subsequent emergence of a woman's face from the water surface. It is written on the screen in handwritten script: "to my aggie: planet earth has only one woman." This sequence alludes to the Greek myth of the birth of Aphrodite and adds a profound sense of classicism to the film. As Louie's voice is heard over the sequence, we have already been led quite unknowingly into his mindscreen to sneak a peek at his perception of Aggie as his sole object of love.

The film contains a rich collection of imageries and sub-textual elements. The moon is a recurring metaphor signifying a sense of loss. Deeply depressed by her grandmother's death, Aggie climbs on top of a shelter in a park and tries to hold the moon in her hands. After that night, she sleeps for three whole days before awakening. With a close-up shot of her shining eyes, Yim hints that Aggie has finally managed to recover her loss. With the moon in her eyes she finally breaks her silence after her grandmother's death and gradually comes to understand that she would have to carry on with her own life. It is also interesting to note that it is Teresa Teng's "The Moon Represents My Heart" which was playing on the car stereo during Emma and Mr. Chiu's date. This serves not only as a foreshadowing of Louie's lost of Emma (or vice versa) but also tells of her longing for a lost object of love.

One of the most memorable scene of the film is the one where Mr. Chiu stabs Emma in the club after learning that she is a transsexual. Yim uses repeating and overlayered motion to have him stab her over and over again through one single wound thus heightening the tragedy of the murder, leaving the audience to struggle with the seemingly absurd poignancy of it all. But later when we hear Emma's letter which she wrote to Louie before her death, we see that her death at the hands of Mr. Chiu was really meant to be. In the letter, Emma tells Louie about her intuition of her death at the hands of Mr. Chiu. But she seems to be unanxious about it and would rather leave things to fate. She is one who brims with optimism for life setting her opposite Mr. Chiu's frustration with life. The former sees life as one big lesson which she has to learn. Everything, right down to being a woman is a worthy learning experience for her. Mr. Chiu, on the other hand, complains that everything is just a stressful problem. The narrative is skillfully balanced as they both even themselves out in their deaths leaving behind the living, Aggie and Louie, to form a new union of love from the debris of loss and despair.

The element of food serves as a form of healing in the film. But unlike the contrived Mexican film LIKE WATER FOR CHOCOLATE a few years ago, the theme is incorporated with great sensitivity into the narrative here to prevent it from falling into pretentiousness. Aggie, who has an acute sense of smell, starts to take on the role of the healer after her experience of the loss of a loved one. Her excellent culinary skills have always been able to cheer people up in the midst of despair. At a restaurant, Aggie introduces herbs to Chika, who has been grieving about Emma's death, helping her regain her appetite. Knowing of Louie's depression, she orders take-away and flies immediately to China to deliver her prescription. Yim's portrayal of this reveals a touch of tender romanticism and humour which is rare in his past films.

Anyone who has read Banana Yoshimoto's novel would have suspected the possibility of transporting its idiosyncratic characters to the screen without them appearing contrived. But with a highly controlled narrative and a restraint of direction of the cast, Yim is able to convince us that these characters can be living amongst us. One could not possibly imagine how comedian Law Kar Ying's casting as the transsexual mother would work. It is true that Law appears out of place as a woman initially but before you take any notice he has won us over with his subtle and appealing portrayal. When you feel a tremendous sense of loss at her tragic death, you come to realize that Yim was right in his choice all along.

The rest of the players also gave very commendable performances. Yim has chosen all his cast members so well that they fit into their roles with little effort, resulting in an understated overall performance that compliments the mood of the film. He has also demonstrated his proficiency in the language of film in his being able to control and manipulate the stylistics to great advantage. A shining achievement is his use of mainly tight shots throughout the film. This creates an intimacy which forces the viewer closer to the idiosyncrasies of his characters and ignites one's desire to know them.

With the common themes of loneliness and the existential crisis experience, comparison with the more prolific Wong Kar-Wai, would no doubt be drawn by many. It seems that Yim is proving that he is also able to appeal to the young and hip crowd with a film closer to their experiences. But unlike Wong whose films are crammed with jarring stylistic techniques, Yim makes new meaning through the most clichéd of tools in film language. In terms of perspectives, Yim tries to provide answers (which in this film, he does) rather then indulge in the dark pit of self-imposed depression. He has presented to us a sincere and poetic film which is small in scale but large in thematic content, dealing with the heavy theme of life and death with light-heartedness and a quirky humour. Truly, it is an ode to the power of human love in healing the soul in the midst of utmost loss and despair.