S omewhere I Have Never Travelled (帶我去遠方), a film about the trials of growing up on the coast of southern Taiwan, is the debut feature of director Fu Tien-yu (傅天余), a protege of the prolific playwright and director Wu Nien-chen (吳念真). The movie possesses many of the strengths and weaknesses of Wu’s own work — a strong script combined with an excessively overt “Taiwanese” consciousness — but makes a solid effort to explore the experience of coming of age in small-town Taiwan, where the rest of the world seems hopelessly distant.
The film’s unspecified coastal town, which might be in the Kaohsiung area (where some of the location shooting took place), appears to be a desperately bleak place in which to spend one’s formative years. The ocean’s unforgiving horizon offers nothing but emptiness and oblivion to Ah-Hsien, a young man discovering his homosexuality, and Ah-Gui, a girl who suffers from color blindness, an affliction that is not recognized or understood by those around her. The duo’s travails constitute the bulk of the film’s story line, though Somewhere I Have Never Travelled manages to be a good deal more interesting than this bald synopsis suggests.
The specter of “social issues” floats just beneath the surface of the film, but is fortunately kept in check by the director’s overriding concern for her young non-professional actors as individual characters, not as vehicles through which to advance a social agenda. Ah-Hsien’s homosexuality and Ah-Gui’s color blindness seem just a trifle contrived and are ultimately superfluous, irrelevancies compared to the relentless isolation of their world.
Thankfully, Fu handles these issues in such a manner that they are not unduly intrusive, choosing to focus on the strong bond between the two siblings. The movie contains many genuinely charming character interactions, as well as numerous expressions of unfiltered intimacy, when the two young people take solace in their shared sense of being different from those around them.
These moments are the highlight of the movie, and the duo’s isolation is masterfully encapsulated by Fu’s use of the bleakly beautiful coastal scenery, which speaks volumes about the circumscribed world the two protagonists inhabit. Their struggle is juxtaposed with the experiences of the cast of adult characters, who have grown accustomed to this limited existence. The siblings’ father, an alcoholic street cleaner, still longs for the wife who left him years ago, and finds comfort in his collection of discarded shop store mannequins. Ah-Gui’s burning desire to escape seems almost sweet when compared to her father’s resigned acceptance of his fate. While Ah-Gui’s dreams are entirely unrealistic, she continues to dream. For the adults, however, dreams have long since died, buried in a graveyard of shattered hopes and aspirations.
This “serious” tone, handled largely by the non-professional cast, is balanced by the impressive cameos of professional entertainers such as Mei Fang (梅芳) and Lin Mei-shiu (林美秀), who provide the film with a welcome dose of humor, as well as some linguistic color. The movie’s more comedic sections are fun and, even if slightly contrived, work well in juxtaposition with the adolescent sullenness that characterizes much of the dialogue of the two leads.
While the film certainly does not lack charm, it is, at its core, a deeply sad film, though this poignancy is tarnished by Fu’s tendency to melodramatically fawn over her talented young cast. Luckily, Fu had the sense to make Somewhere I Have Never Travelled an ensemble piece: as such, the deficiencies of the young actors are never too glaring and their more experienced peers are always available for backup.
That US assistance was a model for Taiwan’s spectacular development success was early recognized by policymakers and analysts. In a report to the US Congress for the fiscal year 1962, former President John F. Kennedy noted Taiwan’s “rapid economic growth,” was “producing a substantial net gain in living.” Kennedy had a stake in Taiwan’s achievements and the US’ official development assistance (ODA) in general: In September 1961, his entreaty to make the 1960s a “decade of development,” and an accompanying proposal for dedicated legislation to this end, had been formalized by congressional passage of the Foreign Assistance Act. Two
Despite the intense sunshine, we were hardly breaking a sweat as we cruised along the flat, dedicated bike lane, well protected from the heat by a canopy of trees. The electric assist on the bikes likely made a difference, too. Far removed from the bustle and noise of the Taichung traffic, we admired the serene rural scenery, making our way over rivers, alongside rice paddies and through pear orchards. Our route for the day covered two bike paths that connect in Fengyuan District (豐原) and are best done together. The Hou-Feng Bike Path (后豐鐵馬道) runs southward from Houli District (后里) while the
March 31 to April 6 On May 13, 1950, National Taiwan University Hospital otolaryngologist Su You-peng (蘇友鵬) was summoned to the director’s office. He thought someone had complained about him practicing the violin at night, but when he entered the room, he knew something was terribly wrong. He saw several burly men who appeared to be government secret agents, and three other resident doctors: internist Hsu Chiang (許強), dermatologist Hu Pao-chen (胡寶珍) and ophthalmologist Hu Hsin-lin (胡鑫麟). They were handcuffed, herded onto two jeeps and taken to the Secrecy Bureau (保密局) for questioning. Su was still in his doctor’s robes at
Mirror mirror on the wall, what’s the fairest Disney live-action remake of them all? Wait, mirror. Hold on a second. Maybe choosing from the likes of Alice in Wonderland (2010), Mulan (2020) and The Lion King (2019) isn’t such a good idea. Mirror, on second thought, what’s on Netflix? Even the most devoted fans would have to acknowledge that these have not been the most illustrious illustrations of Disney magic. At their best (Pete’s Dragon? Cinderella?) they breathe life into old classics that could use a little updating. At their worst, well, blue Will Smith. Given the rapacious rate of remakes in modern