With Japanese manga film adaptations, it is not always easy to separate the gems from the dross, and a great deal of dross is screened on Taiwanese screens simply to feed an appetite for all things Japanese. With Summer Wars (Sama Wazu), we have most definitely got a gem. This is the sort of movie that rivals, and for the technologically oriented perhaps even surpasses, the work of Hayao Miyazaki, who created such classic animations as Spirited Away (2001) and Howl’s Moving Castle (2004).
The story is about Kenji, an 11th grade computer whiz kid who is invited to stay at the family home of Natsuki, a girl he has a crush on. He is asked to pose as her boyfriend in the hope that this will mollify Natsuki’s grandmother, who is not long for this world.
Uncomfortable with this role, he spends a sleepless night working on a puzzle that is sent to his cellphone. He solves the puzzle. What he doesn’t realize, until it is too late, is that he has just cracked the security code for Oz, a virtual world that has become indispensable to the real world. Oz is where people do their banking, meet their friends, monitor their health and calibrate their GPS. His solution to the puzzle has provided root accesses to a malign force operating within Oz. Millions of user accounts are compromised and then used to create chaos in the real world. Total social meltdown is imminent.
This sort of scenario is not new, but Hosoda’s film brings it to life as a piece of fun family entertainment that proposes an all too possible result of our dependence on and casual acceptance of the Internet. There are a bunch of appealing characters, from Natsuki’s grandmother, the aging matriarch of an ancient samurai family, an uncle who recounts in tedious detail the not altogether glorious history of the family and its retainers in various historical conflicts, and the sullen teenager whose real life is lived as King Kazuma (a rabbit with martial arts skills) and who spends his time fighting his way through the highest level of Oz’s combat championships.
The family supports Kenji as he tries to put things right. Much action takes place within the virtual world of Oz, where King Kazuma and Kenji try to contain the chaos as the malignant force goes viral. The conflict, in all its graphic art glory, is utterly unreal, and also curiously exciting. And the spillover into the daily lives of the characters is very believable, largely as it is so closely linked with things most of us do every day — namely communicate and act through various online systems.
Summer Wars does a splendid job in representing one of the hottest topics of the modern world — computer security — and presenting it in a way that is both thoughtful and fun. This may be simple flat animation that harks back to technologies many decades old, but in terms of quality, it leaves many recent 3D animations trailing in its dust.
Last week saw the appearance of another odious screed full of lies from the People’s Republic of China (PRC) Ambassador to Australia, Xiao Qian (肖千), in the Financial Review, a major Australian paper. Xiao’s piece was presented without challenge or caveat. His “Seven truths on why Taiwan always will be China’s” presented a “greatest hits” of the litany of PRC falsehoods. This includes: Taiwan’s indigenous peoples were descended from the people of China 30,000 years ago; a “Chinese” imperial government administrated Taiwan in the 14th century; Koxinga, also known as Cheng Cheng-kung (鄭成功), “recovered” Taiwan for China; the Qing owned
Jan. 20 to Jan. 26 Taipei was in a jubilant, patriotic mood on the morning of Jan. 25, 1954. Flags hung outside shops and residences, people chanted anti-communist slogans and rousing music blared from loudspeakers. The occasion was the arrival of about 14,000 Chinese prisoners from the Korean War, who had elected to head to Taiwan instead of being repatriated to China. The majority landed in Keelung over three days and were paraded through the capital to great fanfare. Air Force planes dropped colorful flyers, one of which read, “You’re back, you’re finally back. You finally overcame the evil communist bandits and
I am kneeling quite awkwardly on a cushion in a yoga studio in London’s Shoreditch on an unseasonably chilly Wednesday and wondering when exactly will be the optimum time to rearrange my legs. I have an ice-cold mango and passion fruit kombucha beside me and an agonising case of pins and needles. The solution to pins and needles, I learned a few years ago, is to directly confront the agony: pull your legs out from underneath you, bend your toes up as high as they can reach, and yes, it will hurt far more initially, but then the pain subsides.
When Angelica Oung received the notification that her Xiaohongshu account had been blocked for violating the social media app’s code of conduct, her mind started racing. The only picture she had posted on her account, apart from her profile headshot, was of herself wearing an inflatable polar bear suit, holding a sign saying: “I love nuclear.” What could be the problem with that, wondered Oung, a clean energy activist in Taiwan. Was it because, at a glance, her picture looked like someone holding a placard at a protest? Was it because her costume looked a bit like the white hazmat suits worn