Zhang Yang's fractured film is a quintessential entry from the so-called Sixth Generation of Chinese filmmakers. Urban, distanced and formally daring, Quitting is a dismal biopic of a Chinese actor whose career and life fell apart as he got increasingly hooked on drugs. The movie's central conceit is that the actor, Jia Hongsheng, as well as his friends and family, play themselves. Part postmodern lark, part Behind the Music episode, Quitting employs a variety of forms and narrative strategies in exploring its subject. The non-linear melange of interviews, footage from Jia's movies, and shots of rehearsals of a stage version of the film seek to give the audience a prismatic view of Jia's downward spiral. Stylistically adventurous though it is, the movie comes across as less than genuine, as Zhang's attempt to interrogate his subject gives way to his shallower preoccupation with formal pyrotechnics. Hardly helping matters is Jia himself, who as star and subject comes across as little more than a spoiled bohemian brat. What little poignancy there is comes from Jia's parents. Uprooted country folk out of place in the city, Jia's mother and father attend to their son selflessly, without a care for their own well-being. It's a touching glimpse of parental devotion that graces this otherwise alienating picture with a touch of humanism.