‘After Yang’ Review: After the End

After Yang captures the beauty in life after loss.

Set in the opposite of a dystopian sci-fi universe, with an atmosphere that could be described as sanitized in its clean futurism, After Yang tells the story of a broken man yearning to fix his broken machine, and at some level, himself. Running only 96 minutes, After Yang thrives when its tableau-esque cinematography allows the characters to ruminate in their deeper thoughts, concerns and feelings regarding the android’s apparent death. On the other hand, it is a possibility that the short runtime is a result of a somewhat flacid story, one that aims to explore the human experience yet stumbles in its execution. However, After Yang is far from a failure, delivering a film experience that promises to connect with the audience on a level at least this viewer wasn’t expecting. Yang was never human, and thinking he would like to be is perhaps the most perfectly self-obsessed human thought conceived, but what After Yang accomplishes is reminding both the viewer and protagonist Jake of the beauty in humanity, the pain inherent in loss, and the life that remains after death.

Floating from plot point to plot point, the film moves with a watery momentum. The film’s cinematography gracefully captures this dream of a future with careful precision that is heightened with top notch editing. The camera is often static, shooting through objects, concealing subjects, and lingering around the characters at unique angles. When the emotional discoveries of Yang’s memories or thought provoking discussions inevitably arrive, the camera works in perfect unison with other visual departments to create a thematically whole, if not shallow, experience. The production design of this world is so convincing its uneasy, making me pray that our future somehow ends up like the one portrayed on screen. Shooting through floor to ceiling windows captures the dysfunctional family in a state of transparency and vulnerability, isolating Jake in a close up while eating with his family captures the isolation his character reinforces, and the handheld movements when shooting memories gives them a much more human and tactile appearance. In other words, the story is complimented by the camera, an achievement for any film, especially one so beautiful. The lighting especially aids in this regard, with shots of a light streak hitting a wall being enough to entrench the themes of the film into the audience: there is beauty in life even after death.

Disappointingly, Jake learns this lesson in a plot so loose it teases boredom. There is nothing wrong with a patient film, again, especially one so visually appealing. However, the steady slowness of After Yang isn’t the issue, rather the half baked nature of the story is. Characters feel ill-defined, existing in the audiences mind as traits rather than people. By the end of the film, all I knew about Kyra was that she didn’t feel a need to keep Yang around. Similarly, all I remember of their daughter Mika is that she misses Yang and drinks water in the middle of the night. Jake is the only character who feels multifaceted, but wether that is a result of a polished script or Collin Feral’s subtly convincing performance is up to the viewer. And at risk of sounding hypocritical, while I enjoy Jake’s depth and journey to becoming more focused on the present instead of distant memories, the film seems to miss the intention of the source material. In a meandering plot that focuses on the internal struggles of a father slowly losing his son, themes of the immigrant experience and cultural diversity in a homogenous, culturally abstract future is lost. In fact, the script indulges in painfully unsubtle scenes of thematic discourse simply to say anything on the matter at all. Rather than naturally integrating these themes into the narrative, After Yang attempts to squeeze them into a larger thematic network where there simply isn’t room.

However, attempting to call After Yang void of meaning, or even worse “style over substance,” would be an unabashed effort of unnecessary disdain. Yes, the film is slow, has a story with half engaging characters, and is lightly philosophical instead of genuinely thought provoking, but there is no reason to ignore the beautiful elements that support this films structure. The cinematography is both breathtaking and thematically resonant, the production design and editing work to effectively create a dreamy atmosphere, the performances are meaningful, the present and fully developed themes are worth noting, and the film will undoubtedly find a way to touch any viewer. Meaning, despite it’s falters, After Yang fulfills its promise of at least creating a stunning sci-fi world with elements of humanity that make it irrefutably unique and touching, if not a bit underwhelming in some of its messages.