An Odyssey of Dreams (童夢) starts off with a dark tone, as main subject Michael Leu (呂游銘) describes a recurring nightmare where he is being chased.
“I committed a serious crime, and they want to catch me,” he says, as he walks through a desolate landscape in the US, where Leu, a former interior designer and illustrator, emigrated to at age 33 to make it as an artist.
But much of the documentary, directed by Lai Chun-yu (賴俊羽), including the strings-and-piano driven soundtrack, is playful and whimsical, seemingly to match Leu’s personality and colorful art that mostly features cats of various sizes.
Photo courtesy of White Crane Films
Shot between 2011 and last year, there’s no clear timeline throughout the entire film as we can only vaguely detect which events happened in which order by the length of Leu’s hair. Within the first 20 minutes or so, we jump from Leu driving through the American West to him talking about his cat at his California home, then to his wife talking about how they met in Taiwan, and finally back on the road without clarifying whether it was the same road trip.
But this disorder does not detract from the film. Rather, it is more of an abstract but informational way of directing the audience’s attention on Leu as a person and not so much about the events that take place. The dialogue mostly takes the form of Leu’s stream-of-consciousness musings while he snaps photos of seagulls or sets up a booth at an art show, while we hear the more structured bits from other characters such as his family members and childhood friends.
From imitating a tiger’s roar to attract the attention of deer for a photograph, then analyzing the effectiveness of his action to simply describing a window in his house, Leu is always intriguing and endearing, and as a result the film has very few dull moments. It’s not all fun and games, though, as Leu also talks about his past, his work ethic, and his determination to make it in America.
Photo courtesy of atmovies.com
Another element that makes the format work is the transitions, as there is always a substantial set-up to a certain topic, often with bits that show more of Leu’s personality and life story. Some of these seem like devices to incorporate interesting but perhaps otherwise irrelevant shots into the film, but they help make the randomness less jarring. For example, there’s a long scene of Leu riding the subway in New York and snapping photographs in Times Square before we get to him visiting and interacting with his parents — and even that is a transitional device as then the camera turns to a family photo in the parents’ house, which leads the real topic at hand — Leu’s children.
The film’s tone changes about two-thirds into the film, as the audience probably has a good idea of who Leu is by then. The topics become more serious as Leu addresses his demons mentioned in the opening scene, and there is now a storyline going on as the scenes become longer and start following a chronological order.
At this point, the film starts featuring fantastic animations of Leu’s drawings and paintings to go with the narrative, which is director Lai’s forte as he was part of the team that won a Golden Horse for best visual effects with the 2007 film, Secret (不能說的秘密). It also starts employing a variety of fun effects such as adding a microphone echo to Leu’s voice when he recites a speech by his elementary school principal.
One may lament that Lai did not incorporate these flourishes earlier in the film, but since they are not Leu’s creations, perhaps they would have taken away from the sole focus on him and his work.
When nature calls, Masana Izawa has followed the same routine for more than 50 years: heading out to the woods in Japan, dropping his pants and doing as bears do. “We survive by eating other living things. But you can give faeces back to nature so that organisms in the soil can decompose them,” the 74-year-old said. “This means you are giving life back. What could be a more sublime act?” “Fundo-shi” (“poop-soil master”) Izawa is something of a celebrity in Japan, publishing books, delivering lectures and appearing in a documentary. People flock to his “Poopland” and centuries-old wooden “Fundo-an” (“poop-soil house”) in
Jan 13 to Jan 19 Yang Jen-huang (楊仁煌) recalls being slapped by his father when he asked about their Sakizaya heritage, telling him to never mention it otherwise they’ll be killed. “Only then did I start learning about the Karewan Incident,” he tells Mayaw Kilang in “The social culture and ethnic identification of the Sakizaya” (撒奇萊雅族的社會文化與民族認定). “Many of our elders are reluctant to call themselves Sakizaya, and are accustomed to living in Amis (Pangcah) society. Therefore, it’s up to the younger generation to push for official recognition, because there’s still a taboo with the older people.” Although the Sakizaya became Taiwan’s 13th
Earlier this month, a Hong Kong ship, Shunxin-39, was identified as the ship that had cut telecom cables on the seabed north of Keelung. The ship, owned out of Hong Kong and variously described as registered in Cameroon (as Shunxin-39) and Tanzania (as Xinshun-39), was originally People’s Republic of China (PRC)-flagged, but changed registries in 2024, according to Maritime Executive magazine. The Financial Times published tracking data for the ship showing it crossing a number of undersea cables off northern Taiwan over the course of several days. The intent was clear. Shunxin-39, which according to the Taiwan Coast Guard was crewed
For anyone on board the train looking out the window, it must have been a strange sight. The same foreigner stood outside waving at them four different times within ten minutes, three times on the left and once on the right, his face getting redder and sweatier each time. At this unique location, it’s actually possible to beat the train up the mountain on foot, though only with extreme effort. For the average hiker, the Dulishan Trail is still a great place to get some exercise and see the train — at least once — as it makes its way