The pains of being an actress prompted Xu Jinglei to get behind the camera, and lately, has inspired the plot of her latest film Dreams May Come.

Xu first appeared in the cinematic circle as an actress in 1999 and quickly became a consumer product of pop culture.

Forced to portray an image of a pretty and innocent woman to cater to the public, she soon realized she wanted to have more of a voice, so she turned to directing.

Her most recent film is set in a closed room in Beijing on a sleepless night.

The whole movie, with an exception of several very brief scenes, is actually a long conversation between a director and an actress, who engage in an endless quarrel over a soap opera, also titled Dreams May Come.

The actress character, played by Xu herself, comes to the director's residence to resign from her part. The soap opera, she painfully finds out, is a shoddy production that contradicts her life philosophy of forthrightness. She is fully aware that quitting will cause major problems for both herself and the crew, but if continuing in the role, she knows she will break down.

At the beginning, the director tries very hard to persuade the actress to stay, conceding to rewrite the script.

But as their conversation gets deeper, his hidden self is exposed.

Completely discouraged, he is now the one who finds it impossible to continue shooting. When the next day comes, the two, torn between dreams and reality, sit on the floor quietly and powerlessly, ignoring urgings to set off to work.

Experimental work

Xu's previous directorial works include My Father and I in 2003 and A Letter from an Unknown Woman in 2004.

Dreams May Come is her third picture as a director.

Her previous plan was to shoot a big-budgeted costume epic Days at the Palace, which takes place in the Tang Dynasty (AD 618-907). But it did not get the 50 million yuan (US$6.2 million) investment and was suspended.

Dreams May Come best exemplifies how different Xu is from all the other Chinese filmmakers.

To use her own words, Xu's ambitions here are on an "experimental scale," in terms of both the movie's extremely simple story and the spiritual depth contained in its lines. It is difficult to categorize the film, because never before a similar picture has been made in China.

With only one scene and two characters, the movie is more like a theater drama.

In this setting, Xu shows her talent. She is fully in charge of the movie, and successfully offsets its unavoidable dullness with small elements. Properties such as the mirror in the bathroom, the dishes ordered on the telephone and the lamp which reveals the director character's "low taste" all help the movie develop more smoothly.

Still, it is not an easily viewed movie that can be watched with popcorn and a soda. Once the novelty disappears within the first 10 minutes, it requires full concentration to fight off drowsiness caused by the movie's dreariness during the remaining 90 minutes. Watching the movie is not entertaining, but takes a little effort, which might scare off many theatergoers.

Xu herself is well aware of the movie's possible failure at the box-office but she is calm about it.

She says she has no "unrealistic expectation," and a revenue of two to three million yuan (US$ 250,000-375,000) would satisfy her.

For the first round of screening, the movie is being shown in only six selected cities. Besides Beijing, it can be seen in Shenyang, Dalian, Chengdu, Shenzhen and Shanghai.

Knowing that her movie deserves an audience that really understands it, Xu even discouraged people from buying tickets at promotion press conferences.

"It has no intriguing story, no dazzling scenes. If you are not interested in it, please don't go to the cinema. It is made only for a small bunch of people who enjoy thinking for themselves. It is a powerful movie but it needs to be carefully tasted," she said.

Xu helped retrieve most of the movie's 6 million yuan (US$750,000) cost through a hidden advertisement of a dating website in the movie.

For those who can survive the suffocating dialogues, the movie delivers thought-provoking messages in a dry and forceful way, with every line offering up profound meaning.

However, the biggest credit goes to Wang Shuo, the movie's playwright. Back in the 1990s, Wang was one of the most popular novelists on the Chinese mainland. His novels use playful, brisk but satirical languages, which were unprecedented and revolutionary in the tradition of Chinese literature.

The lines of Dreams May Come are very typical of Wang's style, which includes many expressions from Beijing dialect that are difficult to be understood for people outside Beijing.

The lines cause laughter now and then, but the hidden tone of the movie is pessimistic.

The movie adopts a lofty satirical distance from the characters' plights, which easily resonates with the audience.

(China Daily July 7, 2006)