Postmen in the Mountains

In a critical scene in Huo Jianqi's "Postmen in the Mountains," a young man hoists his father onto his back. The son is sparing his father the discomfort of having to wade through a mountain stream, a cold, slippery walk that would aggravate the arthritis in the older man's knee.

The moment is small and probably ordinary in the context of the culture of rural China, but it signals a seismic shift in the relationship between a father and his son.

Director Huo builds an entire film around such moments, the quiet earthquakes that define a son's last tentative steps to manhood and his father's simultaneous acceptance of his own advancing age and dependence.

In its simplicity and timelessness, "Postmen in the Mountains" has the universality and potency of some of the greatest films to explore the intricate bonds between parents and children. Like Aleksandr Sokurov's masterly 1997 film "Mother and Son," Huo renders his principal characters as archetypes that are as enduring as the natural elements - mountains, forest and open sky - that surround them. Both Sokurov and Huo keep the historical period indistinct - there are no cars or clothing to suggest a particular time. The characters belong to what is then, now and forever. Cultural specifics also are de-emphasized, so the tales become the story of any parent and child.

The story of "Postmen" could not be simpler or more complicated. Based on a novel by Peng Jianming with script by Si Wu, it begins at the moment when the Father (Teng Lujun) turns over his postal route to his Son (Liu Ye). The route, traveled on foot, is arduous, a trek that takes several days and requires the postman to climb cliffs, ford streams and detour many miles to meet the needs of particular customers, all the while shouldering a weighty mailbag.

The Father and Son make this journey together over the course of "Postmen in the Mountains," and it is a literal and metaphoric trek that accomplishes the transference of responsibility for the route along with the more delicate recalibration of their familial roles.

Trailed by the Father's loyal German shepherd, Laoer (which roughly translates to "Bingo"), the men exchange places in ways real and symbolic. The Son, who has been estranged from his often-absent father, comes to know the man and understand his perpetual absences by walking in his footsteps. Through occasional flashbacks, the Father comes to see the little boy he once carried on his shoulders emerge as the responsible adult who now carries him.

Woven into the narrative are the ideas of finding one's place in a community and giving of oneself for gains that transcend material rewards. All of these things Huo's Father teaches his Son by example, tending to villagers along his route and showing the value of things other than money and social position.

Working with cinematographer Zhao Lei, Huo captures the rugged beauty of the landscape around the mountainous regions of China's southern Hunan province, where the film was shot. Huo and Zhao frame shots of the postmen silhouetted against the sky, the color and splendor of a rural Chinese wedding, a young woman working in a rice paddy, and a blind woman who sits just inside her doorway waiting for the mailman. But Huo's attention to the scenic grandeur and variety is never at the expense of the heart of the story, and his camera is sensitively attuned to the quiet, transforming moments that lead to new yet age-old accommodations between all fathers and sons. 05/02/03