“Zi”

I never fully got behind director Kogonada’s “Zi,” a delicate, vibes-forward indie film that asks for a lot of (and maybe too much) patience from its audience. It’s even more difficult to get through because it’s also a film that doesn’t always give enough back in return. Set over the course of a wandering night in Hong Kong, the story plays somewhere between science fiction and the supernatural. It could have been interesting, but the pacing is so glacial that it’s hard to care at all.

The story follows Zi (Michelle Mao), a gifted violinist troubled by fleeting visions of her future self. These dreamlike interruptions push her into the city, where she crosses paths with others. This sets off a series of quiet encounters that may or may not change the trajectory of her life.

It sounds like an inventive plot for a film, but nothing comes together. While it’s stylish, hushed, and deeply controlled, the narrative is built around repetition and emotional echoes rather than plot. Zi’s visions have a soft, gauzy quality and as certain images recur, their meaning slowly sharpens. Everything plays out like an extended dream, and it’s frankly boring to sit through.

The problem is that the film is far more interesting in theory than in momentum. The pacing is slow and the narrative is intentionally thin, which makes it hard to stay fully engaged if you’re not already on the film’s wavelength. The blurring of past, present, and future mirrors a city where old and new constantly collide, and the film’s underlying interest in kindness and fleeting connection is genuine. But this isn’t a traditional narrative feature so much as a cinematic mood piece, which makes it feel all the more elusive.

“Zi” is very much an indie indie, and it’s the kind of film many viewers will fairly dismiss as too artsy or too vague. Even so, the craftsmanship is undeniable, and there are moments of quiet beauty that feel soothing and meditative. Mostly, though, this is a movie that will test your patience long before the halfway mark.

By: Louisa Moore