Following a storyline which brings Scent of a Woman to mind, writer/director Kathy Meng and co-writer Harrison Bacon share the moving and intimate portrait of a pair of characters brought together in the midst of their own private, sensitive turmoil. Willow and Wu works as both a meditation on connection and an examination of emotional authenticity.
Ao Lan Guo is Willow, whom we meet at the tail end of an unexpected and bitter break-up with her boyfriend over the phone. Before she has time to wipe away her tears, she finds herself being called into work on her day off. Though she argues her point, the task presented to her is framed as pressing.
In need of a distraction from the recent unpleasantness, Willow hurries to the office. There, she is escorted into the presence of the employer’s husband, Wu (Yves Yan), who requires her to help film a video eulogy for one of his childhood friends. Willow steps behind the camera without question, but the recording is quickly cut short as Wu, with a scripted message in hand, struggles to deliver the words he feels he needs to say.
“Willow steps behind the camera without question, but the recording is quickly cut short as Wu, with a scripted message in hand, struggles…”
Wu then suggests they leave the office and search out a more natural setting, thinking that will fix everything. So, Willow and Wu find a quiet park to resume recording. But still, there is something bothering Wu. The pair begins talking, and during the conversation, Willow expresses that Wu’s approach feels staged. She reflects on a friendship of hers that ended abruptly, and how she used the grief to forge ahead. The story is the tonic needed to move Wu out of his funk, abandon his script, and speak from his heart.
Meng’s subtle direction works well because of the strength of her two leads. Both Guo and Yan begin as cold and isolated characters, who, during the course of the story and the intimacy of the feeling divulged in their discussion, each begin to thaw, and obtain a clarity that inner turmoil was blinding them to.
The elegant photography of Sancheev Ravichandran, a couple of actors sitting in silence or walking through dappled afternoon light are equally as dreamlike, and the chemistry between Willow and Wu adds further dimension to what is otherwise a visual poem about the importance of memory. Guo’s Willow is the catalyst that aids in Yan’s Wu, with his guarded exterior, to slowly melt under her quiet charm and the splendor of the setting.
The lingering quality of Willow and Wu is in its illustration of how, if you wish to say something meaningful, then the words must come from the heart and not from something pre-written. Emotion sometimes spills from thoughts conveyed simply. So, if you say what you mean, mean what you say, and apply emotional honesty to the delivery. Then the words will carry, not just meaning, but a heart-warming weight which can’t help but make them memorable.
"…heart-warming..."
