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Flight of the Red Balloon Our rating: Rate this movie   MPAA rating: Not Rated (for drug content, language including sexual references, thematic elements and brief violence) Genre: Drama, Foreign Theater release: April 04, 2008 by IFC First Take Directed by: Hou Hsiao-Hsien Runtime: 1 hour 53 minutes Cast: Juliette Binoche (Suzanne), Simon Iteanu (Simon), Song Fang (Song), Hippolyte Girardot (Marc), Louise Margolin (Louise), Anna Sigalevitch (Anna) Related: Talk About It/Family Corner

How is childhood like a red balloon? Hou Hsiao-Hsien's Flight of the Red Balloon gives many possible answers.

We watch seven-year-old Simon—played marvelously by Simon Iteanu—meander along Paris sidewalks, his progress as lazy and jaunty as the path of that red balloon above him. His lackadaisical stride stands in stark contrast to the crisscrossing streets and tracks that bind the city; he's not yet imprisoned by the grid-like adult world of hurry and hustle. Under his mop of tousled red hair, his eyes cartoon-wide, this kid has sails open to catch a whim. He'll even shout up at the balloon to come down and play with him.

We know that the weightlessness of Simon's existence, the whimsy in his wonder, will soon end. We sense it when he refuses to welcome the balloon as it descends. We see it in how he's drawn to flashy, mechanized activity, like his sister's PlayStation.

Flight's bittersweet tone comes from its focus on childhood, and even a quality of childhood that the harsh city life might soon burst like a balloon. You could call it The Unbearable Lightness of Being, but that title's taken.

And speaking of Unbearable Lightness …

Simon Iteanu as Simon and Juliette Binoche as Suzanne

In a visceral, spirited performance that rates among her very best, Juliette Binoche plays Simon's frazzled, single mother, Suzanne. With her energy manifested in an electrified blonde hairdo, Suzanne is too busy to know whether she's coming or going. In an unforgettable and surprising reveal, we learn that Suzanne works as an actress in a puppet theater. Like Hou himself, she's translating timeless Chinese art for present-day Parisians, and the work unleashes a playful expressiveness that makes her irresistible.

But between rehearsals, Suzanne careens like a pinball from one activity to another. She's trying to cope with intrusive downstairs tenants, the loneliness of missing her absent husband and faraway daughter, and the details of welcoming Simon's new nanny. Coming home, she gets updates from Simon about his day. "You play pinball these days?" she quips, and the line is loaded. Yes, his life is going on without her. Yes, he's being drawn into the machine.

We enter into Suzanne's crazy world through the quiet observance of the new nanny, a Chinese film student named Song (Song Fang). Song's peaceful acceptance of Suzanne's crazy world makes her most appealing. Song's Chinese background, her interest in film, and her ever-present digital camera which she uses to film Simon's everyday experiences, make her the calm at the center of this family's storm. She's making a short film about red balloons in tribute to the classic 1956 French short film, The Red Balloon, just as Hou made Flight as an homage to its director, Albert Lamorisse.

Song Fang as Simon's nanny, Song

Hou's cinematography imitates the casual curiosity of a child. His gaze wanders up and down the street, up and down the buildings. But don't be fooled—every one of his long, patient takes is carefully composed.

If you watch carefully, you'll catch visual jokes and wonder if they're intentional. For example, in the opening shot of a balloon floating away on a cut string, we see a subway sign advertising the film Severance. If that isn't funny enough, the title is bisected by a lamppost! Later, after we've realized that the film is about a vulnerable child overlooked by the busy modern world, a bus passes with a bold poster for the film Children of Men, with Clive Owen's mug staring straight at us. Accident? If so, a very happy one.

Hou's images are rich with meaning. In many shots, reflections suggest that we consider the past, present, and future. Some shots show passing traffic, but reflections in windows and doors let us see vehicles approach, and after they pass, we catch distorted views of their continuing journey. (How he manages to keep the camera out of these reflections is a special effect indeed.) Hou is constantly, quietly reminding us that the past and future are active in the present, and that should provoke questions about what we value, and how we inhabit a moment.

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