The World of Movies: The Scent of Green Papaya
Written by Rachael Crawley
The World of Movies is a series that explores global cinema, drawing on films from many countries, industries and eras. This week, we take a detailed look of a young woman's journey in Vietnam.
The Scent of Green Papaya.
May contain spoilers.
One of the questions I run into most frequently, while writing this column, is how to determine a film’s nationality. With older films, borders may have changed. In the modern day, many countries have disputed recognition. Co-productions are frequent, and even if funding technically comes from one country, the film’s setting, filming locations, cast and crew may all come from another. Depending on who you ask, The Scent of Green Papaya (Tran Anh Hung, 1993) is listed as French, Vietnamese or a co-production between the two. As it was submitted to the Oscars (and nominated!) by Vietnam, I am going with that.
Young Mùi (Man San Lu, later Tran Nu Yên-Khê) arrives as a servant in a wealthier household, though it becomes clear that they themselves have been through hard times. Mùi settles in well, more or less, but becomes witness to a great deal of family tension. That said, this is not a story especially given to explosive arguments and high drama – it plays out instead through a series of small moments, which add up to larger emotional currents. Stylistically, it has some aspects of older romantic films, but these early scenes are very grounded. Somehow, it creates a fully realized view of the life of the house, without being ostentatious.
In the second half of the film, the narrative fast-forwards ten years. Mùi has established a role for herself in the home, and is looked upon fondly by the family. At this point, she begins to grapple with her own independence. Mùi faces leaving the place that has become her home – and discovers first love. The film’s romance leans more heavily on the melodramatic tropes from early scenes, while still keeping a soft approach to its characters. So much is conveyed to the viewer through atmosphere, even in a single frame where no people appear. Its vacillating moods are, I think, a bit of a whiplash feeling after the more subdued first half, but it builds into a dreamy kind of spell that is quite compelling.
The Scent of Green Papaya.
From a very strong cast, both actors playing Mùi stand out. Though the character is in the background in her own world, she is a fully realized personality, and every nuance is adeptly conveyed in her appearances. Man San Lu, in particular, has a difficult role as the young child struggling to fit in, and gives a splendidly complex performance.
The movie benefits from its clever use of ambient sound – including some great diegetic music – as well as an evocative score than puts one in mind of classic Hollywood. Each shot is elegantly set up, and the colour pops beautifully. The actors’ faces are particularly well-lit, centering them well within the scene. And yet, even with its beautiful staging, there is little artifice to the production. The characters sweat in the heat, and the house (a character in itself) has appropriate dings and blemishes. This environment feels lived-in, and it is all too easy to imagine Mùi’s world.
Combining different styles and blending them with the filmmaker’s own unique vision, The Scent of Green Papaya is alternately rich and delicate. It somehow maintains this tricky juxtaposition over the course of its story. With its excellent visuals and sympathetic characters, it is a film with a lot to offer the viewer.
Rachael Crawley holds a Master's Degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from X University (formerly known as Ryerson), and has worked with film in Canada and in Europe. She adores language and cinema, and how these subjects interact with each other.