Saw Up The Yangtze yesterday; when it was over I just sat there, stunned, thinking (eloquently) wow-oh-wow-oh-wow-oh-wow . . .it’s still haunting me (sweetly).

I love it when a film does that; it’s even better when the way it engages you comes as a surprise. I went into the theater expecting a standard documentary about the Three Gorges dam (purposely did not read any reviews in advance), so I had no idea that I was about to see a modern mini-quest of the human spirit - mercifully devoid of that swelling, emotion-manipulating music that is so ubiquitous in most films about China I’ve seen lately. Up the Yangtze is (mostly) as gentle and beautiful as a watercolor, and as interesting and character-rich as any Austen (or perhaps I should say Lisa See) novel.