 
  Review by
        Eric Hillis
  Directed by: Qiu Yang
  Starring: Yu Aier, Di Shike, Wei Yibo, Xu Tianyi, Gu Tingxiu, Qin Dan, Xu Yun
    "Into each life, some rain must fall
  
  
    Too much is falling in mine
  
  
    Into each heart, some tears must fall
  
  
    Someday the sun will shine."
  
    So sang Ella Fitzgerald and The Ink Spots on their 1944 hit 'Into Each
      Life Some Rain Must Fall'.
  
    A whole lot of rain falls on Cai (Yu Aier), the put-upon
      protagonist of writer/director Qiu Yang's feature
      debut Some Rain Must Fall, but there's no suggestion that the sun is set to shine any time soon.
      Yang shot his movie during a glum Chinese winter with darkness descending
      before kids have finished their school day, and the overcast skies that
      line the top third of many of his shots hover over what is an exercise in
      unrelenting miserabilism.

    When grey skies aren't literally looming over Cai, metaphorical clouds
      certainly are. The film's narrative plays out over the course of a
      particularly awful week for this fortysomething middle class housewife. It
      all kicks off when Cai attends her teenage daughter Lin's (Di Shike) basketball practice and accidentally knocks out an elderly woman when
      she aggressively lobs a ball back at some kids. The woman is hospitalised
      and it's uncertain if she'll recover. The accidental victim's working
      class family - referred to as "fucking peasants" by Cai's
      husband Ding (Wei Yibo) - immediately begin a campaign of harassment in
        the hopes of pressuring Cai into financial compensation.
  
    It's the last thing Cai needs on her plate right now. She's just filed
        divorce papers. Her daughter is striking out at her by threatening to
        drop out of the basketball team, thus jeopardising the essential extra
        credits she needs for a college place. She's left at home each day with
        her increasingly senile mother-in-law. Her own elderly father is
        terminally ill and his home helper wants to leave the role of his
        nursemaid. The only moments of tenderness come from Cai's housekeeper,
        whose physical intimacy suggests a longing Cai is unwilling to allow
        herself to indulge.

    Yang, who scooped the top prize at Cannes a few years back with one of
        his acclaimed shorts, seems to draw inspiration from a particularly
        European school of misery for his first feature. With its unrelenting
        bleakness, Some Rain Must Fall bears the influence of the likes of Von Trier, Haneke and Seidl,
        filmmakers who are often reductively accused of simply torturing their
        (usually female) protagonists like cruel children burning ants with a
        magnifying glass. Such a read is to ignore the emotional and
        psychological insight of their films, though it's understandable why
        many viewers might wish to shun such uneasy material. With Yang's debut
        however it's difficult to mine anything more profound than a nihilistic
        "shit happens" philosophy. Yang may shoot his film in a detached
        arthouse style but he piles so much baggage on the shoulders of his
        protagonist that the film becomes an overbearing melodrama nonetheless.
        Just when you think he can't shoehorn any more angst into his drama,
        Yang will have Cai recite a depressing monologue about some terrible
        tragedy that occurred in her past. At a certain point there's so much
        wretchedness to keep track of that you simply stop caring and the film
        loses whatever impact its initial setup might have offered.

    A significant portion of the audience will likely bail on Yang's film
        before it reaches its conclusion, but there are some rewards here for
        those willing to indulge Some Rain Must Fall. Yang composes his shots in a manner that reflects his protagonist's
        emotional deadness, often obscuring her face with door frames or angling
        his camera in a way that forces us to focus on the coldness of her
        cheekbones rather than the expressiveness of her eyes. The movie's
        highlight is a wonderfully expressionist tracking shot that follows Cai
        as she walks past the school basketball court, the fading lights of
        which signal her own impending invisibility. Touches like this get
        across Yang's point regarding how many women begin to fade into the
        shadows when they reach middle age. It's a valid statement, but one
        that's made in a way most viewers will consider punishing rather than
        enlightening.
  
   
       
