The story is told mostly in flashback, as a man (Sun Honglei) returns to his boyhood home in a small village after his father's death. His mother's grief and request that the body be carried to the gravesite in another village by hand prompts the man to recall the story about how his father and mother got together (played by Zheng Hao and Zhang Ziyi in her debut role).

As I said before, the story is pretty simple. Ther's no big war or racist father or different classes or fatal diseases keeping the two lovers apart -- they simply could not get together right away, and the film focuses on that (along with the feeling of loss and heartbreak) rather than showing a lot of slow-motion shots with cheesy power ballads like most other films in the genre do. This approach helps elevate it out of the "chick flick" realm, and makes The Road Home something most anyone can enjoy.

One only hopes that this encourages people to see out "The Road Home", her first movie. Although this gentle, nostalgic picture is a far cry from the more action-oriented films that brought her fame, it's nonetheless a very delightful and rewarding film in its own right.

When Yusheng's father dies, he returns to his remote home village to oversee the funeral. When he arrives, he learns that his mother, Zhao Di, has made a strange request. In keeping with tradition, she wants her husband's casket to be carried from the city morgue back to the village, so that his spirit will remember the way home. Although the village mayor tries to change her mind, claiming that they don't have enough manpower, she remains stubborn.

At first, Yusheng sides with the mayor. However, something in his mother's insistent causes him to reflect on his parents' courtship and relationship. At this point, the movie flashes back 40 years, and we see the story of how his parents come to meet.

When Changyu arrives one autumn day to be the village's new schoolteacher, Di is immediately smitten with the handsome young scholar. She watches him from afar as he helps build the new schoolhouse, while drawing water from the well, or as he walks schoolchildren home after class. He notices her too, this shy, pretty young girl in the bright red jacket and pigtails, and a simple, innocent attraction begins between the two in the ensuing weeks.

However, when they finally get a chance to meet, Changyu gets called back to the city for political reasons (a veiled reference to China's Cultural Revolution) . Heartbroken, Di waits patiently for him to return like he promised. When he doesn't, she decides to travel to the city, braving a fierce blizzard despite being seriously ill.

Of course, given the film's introduction, we know that Di and Changyu do end up together and have a long, (and by all accounts) loving marriage. However, the film offers us a chance to see how the love started, which allows us to understand Di's strange funeral request. She doesn't do so out of stubbornness or eccentricity, or out of mere tradition, but because it's the only way to honor the man she loved so much, who meant so much to her and her village.

Yimou makes the wise choice of filming the "present day" scenes in black and white, reserving the radiant colors and Yong Hou's gorgeous cinematography for the flashback. Yimou's camera captures the beauty of the Chinese countryside in all of its autumnal splendor. However, the film's most stunning scenery is Zhang Ziyi's face, and Yimou's camera drinks it in for all its worth.

Naturally, most of the film's appeal will come from the fact that it was Ziyi's first movie, and those seeking memorable performance will not be disappointed. If you were in love with Ziyi before, prepare to fall in love all over again. Her earnest, heartfelt performance is almost heartrending in its sincerity. The room seems to lighten up every time her face appears onscreen. Two scenes in particular stick out in my mind.

In one, Di follows Changyu as he walks a group of children home. She sneaks through the trees, her red jacket sticking out amongst the fiery golden leaves. Plucking up her courage, she walks past Changyu and the two exchange shy, furtive glances that say more than words ever could. She then breaks into an awkward, wobbly-legged run, as if her knees are too weak to support the added weight of all those butterflies in her stomach.

In the other, Di is waiting in the door when Changyu comes over for dinner, as per the village custom. When he arrives, he sees her standing in the doorway bathed in light, her face filled with joy. While he eats, she catches glimpses of him in the mirror, as does he. Again, Yimou keeps the dialog to a minimum, trusting that their glances will say all that's needed. And they do.

Lest the film become too nostalgic and romantic, Yimou weaves in the rhythms of rural Chinese life, drawing out the beauty of the mundane. While a potter fixes a broken bowl, Yimou's camera intently stares at the old man's fingers, which deftly brush the pieces and put them back together with a nimbleness that belies their age.

At only 90 minutes or so, "The Road Home" is a short and sweet picture, but a very satisfying one nevertheless. It is nostalgic and sentimental, but never to a fault. Only rarely does it venture into melodrama, but you'll probably be so enchanted Ziyi's unpretentious beauty or the glorious scenery that you just won't care.

Films like "The Road Home" are in short supply these days, with so many movies taking the cheap way of big explosions, flashy special effects, and cheapened sensuality. Which is reason enough to cherish it all the more.

It's refreshing to see a movie where words like "wholesome", "heartfelt", and "sincere" can be used without a trace of irony. Too often, such adjectives are meant with derision in today's postmodern culture. "The Road Home" evokes a yearning in me. A yearning to return to simpler times perhaps, but also for a time and place when qualities like love, community, trust, sincerity, and sacrifice aren't given short shrift.

Rarely has the simple theme of love been given such a spellbinding presentation as Zhang Yimou's 'The Road Home'. Having made his name as a director of politically-challenging Mainland dramas, Zhang now enchants viewers with this exquisite story of an innocent and heart-warming courtship between two appealing leads. Not only does the seering beauty of their love hypnotise the viewer, but the rich vistas of the Chinese countryside also add to the effect; the overall power remains in the memory long after the final frames. Some viewers may argue that the storyline is slight and lacks the substance required of exceptional films. Perhaps this may be true as there is little beyond the central narrative; however, that may be to miss the point of 'The Road Home'. There are few productions that can boast the sheer grace of this splendid ode to love. Zhang Ziyi (forever to be remembered for her role in 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon') is a major reason for the previous commendation that I have afforded the film. Her astounding beauty coupled with a touching fragility means that the love she displays is totally believable. 'The Road Home' is a genuine achievement of Eastern cinema and comes highly recommended.

Yusheng realizes that his mother's wishes for the funeral must be respected, and so he provided money to hire men to carry his father's coffin the many miles from the hospital to its final resting place in the village. On the day of the funeral, though, more than one hundred of Changyu's former pupils turn up to carry the coffin - and none of them will accept payment. Before retuning to the city, Yusheng symbolically honors his father's dearest wish: he spends one day teaching in the village school.