“All Shall Be Well” is a picture of harsh realities. It is a deliberate, agile drama about major slights, class imbalances and rampant homophobia.
Written and directed by Ray Yeung, the film revolves around the elusive feeling of autumn love through the eyes of Angie (Patra Au) and Pat (Lin-Lin Li). The two women have lived together for thirty years, sharing a life that includes daily walks, trips to the market or to a flower shop owned by another lesbian couple. They complement each other wonderfully: Angie is modest while Pat is vibrant. The pair is central to the health of Pat’s family, who come to the couple’s home to celebrate the Mid-Autumn Festival.
However, the delicate balance that Pat provides is upset when she suddenly dies without a will. Worse still, Pat and Angie weren’t married. We’ve all seen enough nasty intra-family fights to know what happens next.
Fortunately, Yeung is exceptionally considerate in anticipating others’ expectations. The betrayal of Angie’s extended family doesn’t come quickly, but occurs in a thousand tiny cuts. Pat’s brother Shing (Tai-Bo) becomes the executor of the estate, and his wife Mei (Siu Ying Hui) refers to Angie as Pat’s “best friend.” They also want her spacious apartment so they can move out of their ramshackle abode. Likewise, Angie’s nephew Victor (Chung-Hang Leung) needs the apartment to support his girlfriend. At the same time, her sister Fanny (Fish Liew) is tired of living with her children and husband above an Indian restaurant (you can sense the xenophobia in her dislike of the place’s smell).
In the hands of a less experienced filmmaker, these people would simply be unpleasant, easy-to-hate scoundrels. But Yeung is smart enough to do the opposite when he is expected to do so. While Pat and Angie were making money as factory owners, Shing and Mei were losing their restaurant. Foreclosure forced the former to work nights as a valet and the latter to clean hotel rooms. Yeung also chronicles the struggle of both and the hardships faced by Victor and Fanny in the face of the current real estate crisis in Hong Kong, where the film is set, which forces many to live in unsanitary conditions with no hope of escape. It is telling, for example, that Victor is shown a rentable apartment that amounts to a closet; in another, Fanny’s husband puts up a sign to cover up a rat hole. When an opportunity arises to seize the kind of generational wealth that Angie’s apartment provides, one can somewhat understand why and how her relatives turn cruel to her.
Of course, those systemic problems don’t absolve them of their wrongdoing. Nor does the film make such sweeping validations. There’s a constant erasure of Angie by this family that is almost unforgivable. Before long, they’re using the legal system, which clearly doesn’t protect same-sex couples (Pat and Angie would have had to have married abroad to be legally recognized) to undermine Angie’s right to live, love, and be remembered.
Through it all, Angie endures acute anguish in her solitude. The camera follows suit. While many would lean toward close-ups, trying to wring every ounce of emotion from the actress’s face, Yeung and his cinematographer Ming-Kai Leung allow their lens to remain distant from Angie for much of the film. The dim lighting and neutral color palette further suggest the character’s sense of alienation. Au is also a fantastic actress, not relying solely on a tear or a grimace to connect the character’s pain to the audience. She delivers a fully felt, physical performance. With each slight from her extended family members, she leans in even further. She is so broken, so physically and emotionally shattered, that one can see her struggle seeping out of her skin.
This film is so patient that it’s disappointing to see it take such an easy route to rekindling Angie’s struggle. The slight twist allows Angie to feel loved and remembered, which, admittedly, is an essential emotion for the viewer to remember. However, the emotional message is a little too direct and only comes through Au’s fountain of pathos. That minor misstep doesn’t undo much, if anything, of what’s wonderful about “All Shall Be Well.” This is a film whose complexities and reflections draw you in, tenderly whispering that “this too shall pass.”