Undoubtedly, The Children of Huang Shi is a story that deserves to be told. Inspired by real events, the film recounts the extraordinary bravery of British journalist George Hogg (Jonathan Rhys Meyers) in 1930s war-torn China, who, along with an Australian nurse (Radha Mitchell) and the leader of a Chinese partisan group (Chow Yun-Fat), rescues 60 orphaned children, leading them on a perilous journey through 700 miles of dangerous terrain, in brutal weather with armed Japanese soldiers on all sides. At the end of the film, some of the children who were saved and are now older men talk directly to the camera, recalling Hogg and his impact on their lives. It is the most powerful part of the movie, testifying not only to the stunningly heroic actions of the young reporter but to the flesh-and-blood reality of these aging men haunted by memories.
The Children of Huang Shi does not fully work as a film. This is not to say there aren't some terrifically vivid and suspenseful sequences. Hogg witnessing the massacre of 200 Chinese men, women, and children is bone-chilling. Similarly, a child staring at his destroyed garden is unexpectedly poignant and emotionally complex. The cinematography is striking, brilliantly capturing the orphans' trek across bleak, expansive landscapes, enduring blizzards at one point and sandstorms at another. Still, the film seems needlessly long at two hours, and some sections lag. Perhaps dramatization cannot do justice to every historical event.
Most nettlesome are the characterizations, starting with Rhys Meyer's lackluster, unmotivated George Hogg. Even if the real-life Hogg was a blank mask, it doesn't work on screen and certainly not in the context of this dramatic story. We're supposed to believe that Hogg, a youthful, well-heeled adventurer, is transformed by the orphans and becomes, in the process, their heroic leader. But the metamorphosis is never shown or even hinted at. There is no suggestion that Hogg is a multilayered figure who has the moral capacity and psychological gumption to risk his life for others.
Mitchell's nurse fares a little better. She is at once a pioneer woman and a lost soul, whose stunning bravery emerges from both aspects of her experience. At one point she says she has neither money nor family; she is essentially rootless and alone. Late in the film her opium addiction is revealed, and it comes as a bit of a surprise, though it's not totally incongruous and is surely interesting. If only some of her inner struggle had been dramatized earlier. It's too little too late.
The most fully realized character is Yun-Fat's Jack Chen, an American-educated Chinese guerrilla, battling the Japanese and ambivalent toward the Chinese nationals. Yun-Fat evokes a keen intelligence, a sly sense of humor, and strength of character. As such, he is completely plausible as a warrior and heroic figure.
Still, even he cannot compensate for the gaps in the script that give little weight to the characters individually or collectively. Their relationships scream out for elaboration. This is not a plea for dreary exposition, but a little character study might have gone a long way.
Genre: Drama. Directed by: Roger Spottiswoode. Written by: James MacManus and Jane Hawksley. Starring: Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Radha Mitchell, Chow Yun-Fat. Opens May 23 in limited release.
Reviewed by Simi Horwitz