An emotionally intelligent web of faith and human intuition, Valley of the Shadow of Death is a hidden gem well worth seeking out.
A sense of a genuine deep cut on religious forgiveness adds heft to this visually stunning effort from Hong Kong. From directors Sen Lam and Antonio Tam, with Tam also writing the script, Valley of the Shadow of Death asks us to question the motives behind Christianity’s more draconian rules and their effect on those in the crossfire. With a tiny budget, the directors manage to convey much through their inventive structure and rich, emotional themes – they are both ones to watch.
We follow Pastor Leung (Anthony Wong), who runs the local church; he’s mourning his daughter Ching (Sheena Chan), whom he and his wife (Louisa So) lost to suicide three years ago. Wong is a tragic, resigned man, delivering his commitment to God in an almost exasperated tone. His register is entirely flat, the grief worn on his face like a mask he can never pull off.
When the church brings in a local homeless boy off the street, the Pastor immediately recognises him as Chan Tsz Lok (George Au), the person who raped and ultimately caused his daughter’s death. Chan can’t work due to his stint in prison, so the Pastor reluctantly agrees to let him stay at the church, putting his faith and Christian “morals” to the ultimate test. The set-up is fantastically knotty and creates a slow yet evocative dynamic that never settles, despite the Pastor’s best efforts to convince himself and his wife that this is normal.
The film unfolds by slowly feeding us the details, using different stages of the past and present to create an intricate puzzle. Lam and Tam are talented storytellers, and a more straightforward version of this film may not have carried the same heft. Occasionally, the script stutters with the odd clunky line of exposition, but the positive, ambiguous aspects far outweigh the negatives. Pastor Leung’s devotion to God is now felt alone, as his wife has lost her faith after what happened. There’s a striking early scene where they celebrate what would have been Ching’s birthday. Pastor Leung says grace before eating a slice of cake while his wife looks on in disgust, already eating.
Louisa So gives an equally excellent performance as a woman who’s lost her spark for life and can never forgive her husband for his own forgiveness. There’s no hope for them, but their shared trauma has kept them hopelessly together. Shek Keung-Wong gives the film a crisp, polished glow and shoots the headier imagery with the skill of a veteran; it’s a wonder this is their first film as a cinematographer.
The relationship between Pastor Leung and Chan Tsz Lok is beautifully observed and complex. Chan is a bad person; he uses his newfound faith, pushed on him by the Pastor, as an all-consuming redemptive practice. Chan Tsz Lok feels that if he devotes his life to God, he’ll be washed of all his sins, and there’s a nagging arrogance that he thinks his crime was somehow a result of Ching’s actions. This is a practice the Pastor preaches, but when put into effect, you can see he doesn’t truly believe it deep down. If we all played by the contradictory rules of God’s everlasting forgiveness, the world would be full of bad people who know they can repent.
It all comes to a head in a spectacular baptism scene that feels like a biblical tale – perhaps one that could change the bible’s stance on helping the man who raped your daughter. An emotionally intelligent web of faith and human intuition, Valley of the Shadow of Death is a hidden gem well worth seeking out.
Valley of the Shadow of Death (不赦之罪) is now showing in selected cinemas nationwide.
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