VIFF Film Review: Black Tea
Black Tea (2024)
Directed by Abderrahmane Sissako
We have ten films directed by the great Wong Kar-wai, but will we get another? Nothing’s for certain, but I sure hope so. In the meantime, thanks to Optimum Immersion, I’ve found my new Wong Kar-wai—or at least a worthy acolyte of the master—and I have VIFF to thank for this discovery. Going into Black Tea, I was unaware of director Abderrahmane Sissako. As a film critic, I’m embarrassed to admit that his 2014 film Timbuktu was unknown to me, especially given it was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film and won the César Award for Best Film. But here we are, ten years later at VIFF 2024, and I’ve finally been introduced to Sissako’s work—and for this, I am grateful.
Black Tea opens with a stark white room filled with white wedding dresses and suits, made all the whiter by the striking contrast of black skin. After this stunning visual introduction, white fades away, replaced by rich, lush colors and deep blacks. Aya, played by Nina Melo, has shed her wedding dress and now finds herself in Guangzhou, China, some time later. We watch, in lush detail and quiet, fluid motion, her day-to-day life as she works in a tea export shop for an older Chinese owner, Cai, portrayed by Han Chang.
Melo and Chang are phenomenal as the focal points of the film, but every supporting character fits the tone perfectly—none overplays their role in this quiet, meditative piece. The standout from the supporting cast is Michael Chang, who plays Cai’s young son, Li-Ben. Initially, he seems like a throwaway character of little consequence, but two crucial moments reveal him to be the heart of the film. His youthful perspective spurs on conversations and, more importantly, brings change to those around him.
This is one of the most sensual films I’ve seen in a long time. But this sensuality never veers into sexuality, which might feel odd to some. For me, it leaves the titillation and suggestion to the cinematography, which assaults the senses to a fever pitch. Every shot is bursting with colorful beauty. Transitional shots of characters moving from one place to another and the establishing shots are as fluid and grandiose as the scenes with the characters themselves. This visual language is established early, and as the film unfolds, I found myself hoping it would last three hours. Alas, Black Tea clocks in at a tight 1 hour and 50 minutes, delivering a final scene that perfectly bookends this near-perfect film.
This may be the best film I’ve seen on my journey to the IFF trifecta. Please seek out Abderrahmane Sissako’s latest when it hits theaters near you. In the meantime, I highly recommend Timbuktu, available on Mubi.