Ann Hui had previously done well working from an Eileen Chang novel when she directed Love In A Fallen City for Shaw Brother's in 1984 and she attempts once more here with Eighteen Springs, despite the general consensus being that these adaptations of Eileen Chang's work remains hard to transfer to screen. Set in Chang's native Shanghai, starting somewhere in the 1930s, it's an expected tale of sublime evil and tragedy coming from her, once again dealing with the complex and strict nature of relations within Chinese society. It seems very fitting to have Hui directing as she's woven harsh commentary into her efforts prior and she strikes once again with engrossing, if not terribly life affirming or fast paced results.

Just in case you've been steered completely wrong, you should know that Ann Hui rarely provides visual jazz, flair and noise. It's for an audience accustomed to stare at much of nothing going on but that much of nothing of course serves a purpose and is an appreciated choice here. Shot in synch sound Mandarin, Eighteen Springs feels more like a Mainland Chinese drama and definitely takes cues from the low-key directorial style of various directors of Chinese cinema. Even if that's not the inspiration, it's a fitting choice on Ann Hui's behalf but your patience may vary throughout as she's in no hurry.

The romance up until an evil turning points does have the classic angle to it. Two introverted souls, the youngest in their respective families and an innocent, pure love between them. Well, this is Chinese society and Hui kicks into gear her main story when she clearly spells out the main meaning of the film close to an hour into it. Behind closed doors, an accepted behaviour goes on where innocence and romance should be crushed in favour of economical prospering and social status. Certain key lines linger long after the film and while extremely quiet and low-key, the inhumanity on display makes for a subtle, haunting ride. Some may tune out due to that but the comments made by Hui, working off Eileen Chang's story and Joe Chan's script, makes for an involving but highly downbeat story.

Not knowing how the source material plays out, one of the few, or rather only, niggle of the film is due to a plethora of characters introduced but it's obvious much running time was needed to flesh out them all. For instance Annie Wu's Cuizhi is an integral part on paper but Hui chooses to put focus on characters more closely connected to the main core of the production. To do justice to the written work, Cuizhi obviously needs to be featured but a compromise clearly was made. Talking production, we're treated to a very impressive one but Hui never lets it get the best of her and it comes off as suitably sparse. Those sparse aspects such as cinematography, production and costume design are expertly put together and aids the story supremely well though.

Performances are genuinely excellent to boot and helps Eighteen Springs rise to great levels. Leon Lai may be a plank still but I'd be damned if he isn't perfectly cast despite! Shen is a shy, introverted character who finds an equal in Wu Chien-Lien's Manjing. The two plays terrifically off each other, being well in tune with the subtle direction by Hui. Wu Chien-Lien is the movie's true standout and once again shows how much she can project in terms of emotions of extremely varying degree, just by adjusting her facial and body mannerisms ever so slightly. Few actresses could've nailed the real warmth and humanity of Manjing but Wu proves once again how sorely missed her immense talent is. Sadly no longer with us is Anita Mui, whose supporting role is equally good and it's an intriguing character that corresponds very well to the themes of the film. Manlu has made her choices but glimpses of the past reveals a common bond between the sister's that showed she once tried to overcome social rules and regulations. It's a layered performance that rightly was awarded. Where was Wu Chien-Lien's award though? Mainland talent was also brought on board in the form of Ge You (To Live), Wang Zhiwen (Love Battlefield, The Emperor and the Assassin) and Huang Lei (Life On A String).

Eighteen Springs is an expertly told drama by the ever so critical Ann Hui. The Chinese society doesn't get a flattering portrayal here but it probably doesn't deserve it and fact of the matter is, the strict control over relationships resides in multiple cultures around the world. Hui's portrayal is sad and basically no glimpses of light remains to be found. Never let it be said that it doesn't make for compelling cinema though. Eighteen Springs is, for the audience that wants it.

Shujun is the son of a wealthy family in Nanjing. Manjing's father died when she was young, and her sister (Anita Mui) had to take a shameful job as a "ballroom hostess" to provide for the family. Because the sister's work reflects poorly on Manjing's entire family, she is an unsuitable bride for Shujun--according to his family.

Today, Shujun might ignore his family's wishes, but he and Manjing live in Shanghai in the 1930s, where marriages were decided by decorum as much as by desire, so he does not have that liberty. They live in a world not unlike Jane Austen's, where social codes and manners govern all behaviour, and the way people act within such strict guidelines can be at times humorous, at times heartbreaking.

Heartbreaking, mostly, for the difference in social status is merely the beginning of the lovers' problems. Shujun's choice of family over self has tragic consequences, especially for Manjing. The problems become perhaps too extreme--Chinese movies never seem to err on the side of caution when it comes to providing hardships for their characters. The latter half of the film struck me as being a bit too much, because the first half is so gentle, so graceful and delicate in its exploration of young love. Nevertheless, the idyllic beginning makes the lovers' later separation, their loss and longing, terribly poignant.

EIGHTEEN SPRINGS is refreshing in the way it devotes time to the courtship, unlike most movies, which treat romance in a perfunctory manner. Here, we see love developing, rather than being informed about it after the fact.

Shujun and Manjing are introduced by a mutual friend (Huang Lei) when Shujun comes to work in a factory in Shanghai. The budding romantic tension is subtle but unmistakable. Soon Shujun and Manjing are finding moments alone together, but there is no overt romance, no profession of love. They grow close, and, without even a kiss, are soon discussing marriage. It is typical of their hesitant courtship that marriage is not so much proposed as suggested: "Wouldn't it be nice if we were married?" But we can believe that it would be nice. They are both quiet, mild-mannered, conscientious; they are comfortable together.

Their love manifests itself in small, understated gestures. Shujun learns that Manjing lost one of her gloves, so he takes a flashlight and searches through the woods at night to find it. When he gives it to her the next day, he doesn't tell her about the trouble he went through--clearly, the act of giving, of pleasing her, is all the gratification he needs. He walks her home from work every night, and when they part, they simply say, "See you tomorrow," but the way they glance at each other as they do, awkward, guarded, wanting to say more but afraid to do so, perfectly captures the fragile emotions of young lovers. Credit for this belongs to Lai and Wu, who are both wonderful: they imbue mundane exchanges and brief gestures with complex, profound, restrained feelings.

This is one of the great pleasures of the film, that it pays attention to the nuances of feeling that attend even the smallest gestures. In this sense, it is a domestic movie, a movie about everyday lives, everyday things. Such films can be drab, but in the right hands they can be fascinating--as this one is--because they remind us that there are hidden worlds of emotion that we tend to forget about, that we take for granted as we go about our lives. Unfortunately, Shujun and Manjing never get the chance to take those emotions for granted.