Striking at the nerve of a sensitive issue

Love for Life is such a groundbreaking film that it is a surprise it will see the light of day.

The first high-profile Chinese feature on the sensitive subject of HIV/AIDS is a searing look into the lives of early 1990s' villagers who carried the virus and, worse than that, the stigma associated with it. The filmmakers, especially director Gu Changwei, Oscar nominee for best cinematography for Farewell My Concubine, display an honesty and integrity about difficult issues in Chinese society that should bring enormous pride to the country's cinema.

But that does not mean it is a high-minded message movie.

On the contrary, it is about humanity at its darkest edges and a bolt of lightning that tries to disperse it. That lightning is the love story at the heart of the film between a young couple spurned by their respective spouses because of their HIV positive status.

Played by Zhang Ziyi and Aaron Kwok, the lovers find the only respite from the deadening weight of ignorance and discrimination in each other's embrace and in the instinct for survival, which is intermittently punctuated by whimpers of death.

It is not love at first sight; it is not even romantic love; it is love as life, cruelly cut short by poverty and an unlucky attempt at grasping the illusion of good life, as villagers sold blood for money and Zhang Ziyi's character did it just once - to buy a bottle of shampoo, which is then a symbol of urban life.

As is the refrain by the male lead, it is to live "a day at a time", a courageous act when death is a much easier choice.

In one of the dating scenes, a flourish of creative fancy by the director, the male character runs in front of a locomotive as if to defy death. He jumps; he looks back; he seems to taunt the driver. He is not throwing his life away; he is just snatching life, an inch at a time, a day at a time, away from the clutches of the impending Grim Reaper.

There have been documentaries about the HIV/AIDS epidemic, with The Blood of Yingzhou District winning an Oscar. But many remain underground, viewed by a very small audience who seek out such fare. Love for Life is entering the market strewn with low comedies and swashbuckling epics, which have conditioned Chinese moviegoers to cheap laughs and testosterone-filled thrills. Love for Life, a tragedy and not sugarcoated with melodrama, may be an antidote that joyride seekers may not be ready to take.

If they show up, it could be because of the draw of the starry cast. The participation of so many celebrities in such a grim portrayal of life is a testimony to Chinese filmmakers' unquenched sense of moral obligation. It also provides dramatic situations to flesh out their acting chops.

Surprises are many: Hong Kong pop idol Aaron Kwok gives a bravura performance as a North China farmer with a healthy libido and an unshattered sense of self-worth. Zhang Ziyi stands out as a character with a tenacity for the good things in life - bright-colored clothing, a blindness to bigotry, cold eyes and locked doors and all. The supporting cast blends so well with the extras, with real HIV positive people among them, that it is hard to tell which are professional actors.

A common pitfall that Gu and his cast did not fall into is condescending pity.

Gu shows remarkable restraint and a depth in understanding when delving into the psyche of this group. Not only do we see the complexities of each character, such as patients shunning other patients, but the group dynamics that play out in the shadow of death.

The villain - if he can be called such, because the specter of HIV/AIDS is the real bad guy here - is the male lead's elder brother.

He organized the blood-sale drives, the source of the euphemistically named "fever". And he is so shameless in his lack of respect for his dying family and neighbors that he comes off as a caricature. But then, Pu Cunxin, the actor who essays the role, has such an upright persona from countless roles of nobility, the scenes have a deeper irony for Chinese audiences.

Gu's wife, Jiang Wenli, is a veteran thespian who can steal a scene with one look. Here, she is a dowdy matron who provides a glimpse of comedy by riding a pig.

The film is framed by the voiceover of a 12-year-old boy who is killed at the beginning of the film. The loss of innocence in this world is countered by the illusion of, and prayers for, a better alternative in the unknown. The despair is suffocating, yet cathartic.