Wilfully light on action, Guan Hu’s Mr. Six probably won’t satisfy the retributive bloodlust of those expecting its old-geezer-vs-punks premise to play something to the tune of a Gran Torino. While the aged former crime boss of the title (Mainland director Feng Xiaogang) embodies a stoic, leathery toughness worthy of Eastwood, or prime Charles Bronson, there’s little of the physical heroic showmanship – save for perhaps a pinky-twisting or two – evident in this gangster tale. Hu’s impetus for having Mr. Six snap back into the fold to rescue his estranged son from spoilt thugs is an elegiac one, remembering a bygone era in China when criminals emphasised honourable principles over the materialistic hedonism of the modern world.
Mr. Six could use a more judicious editor: dialogue can get a little laboured, with a tendency to overstate its core themes, and the excessive runtime could’ve seen a couple of narrative strands shorn. But Hu conjures resonant moments away from the plot, such as finding a gently comic tone in the loyal, warm camaraderie of old pals getting together. Likewise, Pan Lou’s lovely cinematography captures the lived-in, neighbourly intimacy of the Beijing alleyway Mr. Six resides in — a place where, with its bike-riding, letter-writing seniors, time appears to have stood still. On occasion, Mr. Six even hits the oddly sublime: an ostrich figures in one of the most unexpected, absurdly beautiful pay-offs of Chekhov’s gun in recent times, and the frozen lake showdown is such a frustrating, monumental tease, it actually grows in memory.
