By Kai Curry
NORTHWEST ASIAN WEEKLY
The best revenge is success.
In “YOLO,” Chinese actress, comedian, and director Jia Ling has brought us a resounding success—and it may be a little bit of revenge, too.
Le Ying, played by Jia Ling, has been living with her parents for years. Now in her 30s, she is deemed overweight and lazy by most everyone that knows her. She doesn’t work, and in my opinion, is beset with deeply embedded depression, likely related to the persecution she has received her entire life (I’m guessing) from the superficial people that surround her. We don’t know how long Le Ying has been this particular way, or for what reasons. She’s a big girl, yes, but not “My 300-Pound Sister” big, with a microscopically small voice. To me, she’s just a person. A normal person dealing with life in perhaps not the most successful way, to start.
YOLO means “you only live once.” It’s only part of the title which, in Chinese, unfathomable to someone in the U.S., maybe, is also called “Rè Là Gǔn Tāng.” (Most likely translation: hot and spicy sizzling soup. It’s not her favorite dish in the movie if you’re wondering. Le Ying turns out to be pretty hot, spicy, and sizzling? She’s got a lot of gumption? Maybe in China they say, “Have some hot and spicy soup because you only live once!” Throwing it out there.)
Anyway, the movie pivots around the idea that if you have a dream (well first, figure out what it is), then you should follow it “at least once,” and you should “win at least once.” We are convincingly shown that Le Ying has never won. She has been taken advantage of and manipulated by everyone in her life, who nearly universally believe she has no value if she is not skinny and married (okay and yes, also perhaps get a job—I acknowledge she IS lazy). Her sister just wants her to sign over her apartment so she can live there with her daughter (after cheating on her husband and getting a divorce, but she’s skinny and pretty, therefore she is superior). Her cousin just wants her to take part in a typical Chinese looking-for-employment TV reality show, so that said cousin can get a promotion. I can’t tell you about Le Ying’s boyfriend and best friend, but what they do to her is in epic poor taste, not to mention the height of betrayal.
The movie doesn’t just show us verbally how others treat Le Ying, but also visually. Her sister, Le Dan (Zhang Xiao Fei), doesn’t put the chicken on the table until Le Ying agrees about the apartment. Her cousin, Dou Dou (Yang Zi), when Le Ying agrees to do the show, gives her a big hug that leaves dirty handprints on the back of Le Ying’s shirt—that Le Ying can’t see. Le Ying is sweet, kind, and generous. And she is full to bursting with anger and frustration. This finally comes out when she takes up boxing. Enter another abuser, her boxing coach and new boyfriend, Hao Kun, played by Lei Jia Yin. To be honest, Le Ying kind of makes up their relationship. She’s entirely innocent and assuming, going to great lengths to cater to him, when in fact he’s just using her at a time when it’s convenient.
Le Ying’s nasty sister, Le Dan, played by Zhang Xiao Fei. Photo courtesy of Sony Pictures Releasing International
Le Ying’s nasty cousin, Dou Dou, played by Yang Zi. Image courtesy of Sony Pictures Releasing International
Le Ying (Jia Ling) learning to box with her coach crush Hao Kun (Lei Jia Yin). Image courtesy of Sony Pictures Releasing International
Food to Le Ying is comfort, and also a return to childhood. There is a scene when she’s had a bad day and she sees a group of children clamoring around a cotton candy vendor. As the audience, we immediately understand that there are no other adults buying the cotton candy, and we know that we’re about to watch Le Ying eat the cotton candy. We also instantly associate cotton candy with fun, childhood, carnivals, sweetness, magic, innocence, etc. Throughout that night, Le Ying walks and ponders, walks and ponders, picking up various street foods along the way (but I put forth that she never gorges herself; this is not a movie that shows you that type of person). She sees Hao Kun looking out a window—but he only sees himself. Later, the tables will be turned.
The character of Le Ying and Jia Ling herself (who plays her) make a huge transformation. Image courtesy of Sony Pictures Releasing International
Jia Ling lost around 130 pounds during the filming of the movie, in the space of less than a year. She had been known in China as someone who was “once pretty” and had gained weight. I wonder if she suffered some of the superficial badgering that Le Ying does in the film. For sure, Jia Ling seems to understand—because it comes out in her acting—the rage that Le Ying is channeling through boxing, the all-consuming need to finally push through and win. And the strangeness of that victory when no one but yourself understands everything that went into it. At the end, Le Ying is “skinny and pretty,” but she is still Le Ying. A new Le Ying, but Le Ying. I think that’s the message—the old Le Ying is still inside of her just like her new self was inside of her before. I know that sounds weird but what I’m trying to say is that weight isn’t everything we are. It’s good to have a personal victory, to find strength, to say “no” to mean people. Now, Le Ying has a passion—boxing—that she can return to during life’s ups and downs. It’s only the start. She hasn’t rebuilt her life or herself entirely when the movie ends. It’s life. And it’s normal.
There is a scene, after her transformation, when Le Ying has a meal with her father (Zhang Qi). She asks him, “If you had a small apple and a large apple, and your friends wanted one, which one would you give them?” Her dad answers, “The large one. What about you?” “I would give them both,” says Le Ying. She would give all of herself. And she still would. But now, we hope, she has learned how to keep herself back until she finds people who are worthy of her.
Kai can be reached at info@nwasianweekly.com.