'Snakehead' Review: A Stylish, Lurid Crime Story About Illegal Immigration to America [TIFF 21]
After cutting his teeth on music videos, short films and documentaries, filmmaker Evan Jackson Leung makes his feature film debut with ‘Snakehead’.
‘Snakehead’ follows Sister Tse (Shuya Chang), a woman who is smuggled into the United States via a snakehead operation run by the criminal matriarch Dai Mah (Jade Wu). While starting out as a prostitute, Sister Tse furiously stands up for another woman against an abusive customer. Even after she endures a savage punishment at the hands of an enforcer, she continues to fight back. Dai Mah takes notice of Sister Tse’s ferocity and strength of will, and takes the younger woman under her wing, recognizing a kindred spirit. Sister Tse works her way up the ranks of Dai Mah’s organization, much to the chagrin of Dai Mah’s eldest son Rambo (Sung Kang), a trigger-happy hothead who has his own ambitions which clash with that of Sister Tse’s.
Leung’s direction is bold in its scope, telling a story which is rooted in the Asian-American community, particularly in New York City’s Chinatown. In a style somewhat reminiscent of Martin Scorsese, the story about organized crime spends a lot of time in cramped back rooms and basements, guided along with narration by Sister Tse and lush cinematography. Leung is aiming for realism, but he is still able to play with bright colours and high contrasts in urban settings. He also makes use of slow-motion, long tracking shots, and montages to depict his protagonist’s journey, whether it be in China, New York, or even the U.S./Mexican border.
As Sister Che, Chang has the most important job in the film. Through her effective and understated performance, we see Sister Tse endure obstacle after obstacle, paying off her debt to Dai Mah while dealing with the FBI, militiamen, and traitors within Dai Mah’s inner circle. Additionally, she has scenes of quiet misery and guilt, haunted by a child whom she has not seen for over eight years. This guilt, coupled with her own experiences as an illegal immigrant, gives Sister Tse a strong sense of empathy for the people around her, including her friend Zareeb (Yacine Djoumbaye). Thanks to Chang’s performance, we can really sense the struggle within Sister Tse as she balances her actions with her attempts at justification.
Like Chang, Wu’s portrayal of Dai Mah is equal parts ruthless, determined, vulnerable, and plagued with doubts. Dai Mah is both feared and respected, yet she is also rueful over her own inadequacies as a parent, particularly where Rambo is concerned. In what is arguably the film’s most chilling scene, Dai Mah personally deals with a traitor, and her callousness manages to horrify the same man who has spent much of his life imprisoned for a crime he committed to defend her. Her character serves as an excellent foil to Sister Tse, literally presenting her with a possible future. Their association also warns Sister Tse of the inevitable consequences of such a life. They have tense discussions about business, but other times they bond over a shared fear that they have failed as mothers.
Sadly, for all this film’s interesting premise and compelling lead characters, the film falls somewhat short of Leung’s ambitions, particularly where his screenplay is concerned. Despite being a unique story, the film isn’t immune from clichés familiar to the crime genre. And although Sister Tse and Dai Mah are fully fleshed-out characters, it is sometimes in defiance of the script. As played by Kang, Rambo is given a few moments of surprising tenderness, such as the scene where he is forced to witness how cruel his mother can be. But mostly, he must settle for glowering or cursing loudly between acts of violence. And despite being competently acted, characters such Zareeb and Rambo’s girlfriend Sinh (Devon Diep) are given a few hints at development, but too little time is granted to them. In fact, at barely 90 minutes, the film might have benefited overall from at least another half hour of running time.
More time would also have benefited the daunting task which Leung has taken on with Snakehead; portraying the snakehead operations themselves. The film draws back a curtain on a community which is often ignored, exploited, or politicized by the society in which it dwells. The film touches on plenty of ways that these fearful migrants are hunted by the law and exploited by criminals, all while being dehumanized by both sides. We see all this through Sister Tse’s perspective, as she weighs her options on how to survive without losing herself. However, there is only so much which can be shown or explained, and some people might feel a bit underwhelmed by the film’s ending.
That said, Snakehead is overall a worthwhile watch. The film’s highly stylized cinematography, its thoughtful examination of an under-explored subject, and the two female lead characters are all dynamic enough to carry the film through any shortcomings it might have.