No matter how bad, art-house films are usually quite watchable for the first half hour or so. If nothing else, the innovative storytelling techniques and avant-garde aesthetics will keep the viewer’s attention for at least that long. But a good movie still requires a coherent, gripping storyline that actually goes somewhere. This is the only area — but the most crucial one — where Xiao Mei (小美) falls flat as the story builds intrigue but provides too few answers before abruptly ending.
The premise of the story is simple: a young, drug-addicted woman named Xiao Mei, played by Cincin Jao (饒星星), has gone missing. An unidentified cameraman interviews nine people associated with her, each with different motives and connections, to try and piece together what happened.
The opening scene is probably the most entertaining part of the film, as Xiao Mei’s landlord, portrayed by Chen Yi-wen (陳以文) with a thick Cantonese accent, describes his interactions with Xiao Mei while getting a head massage at a traditional barber shop. He occasionally glances at the camera when he gets agitated, and it’s soon revealed that he’s being interviewed. The camera follows him to Xiao Mei’s former apartment while Chen does a splendid job as the unintentional funnyman, delivering absurd one-liners and showing off his father’s martial arts skills, all while moping about how hard life is as a landlord and how much trouble Xiao Mei has caused him. A touch of surrealism is employed when the landlord recalls a previous encounter with Xiao Mei, and past and present merge into one scene.
Photo courtesy of atmovies.com.tw
This blend of past and present and other surreal devices are seen throughout the movie, and are a reason to keep watching. In a flashback sex scene, Xiao Mei’s boyfriend actually pauses mid-action to speak to the interviewer as if he were in the present. The cameraman also seems to be able to film his subjects from improbable positions, for example, when the lens is somehow directly facing the boyfriend while he zips through town on his motorcycle. Characters could be talking to both Xiao Mei and the cameraman in the same shot, then suddenly be interrupted by a passerby. This device is probably necessary for the film to work, otherwise it would just be a series of monotonous interrogations.
Commercial director Maren Hwang (黃榮昇) should be praised for pushing the boundaries and trying new forms of storytelling in his first feature effort. The cinematography, special effects and score are rich and alluring, and the surrealism are adroitly employed so that scenes are offbeat without being absurd. Taipei and other locales in Taiwan are filmed in a gritty and bleak, yet still colorful and dreamy fashion, providing atmospheric respite from the succession of interviews. It’s a feast for the senses, and there’s a reason Xiao Mei has made it into various international film festivals, including the Berlinale. It also claimed the Crossovers Grand Prix at the Strasbourg European Fantastic Film Festival and best cinematography award at the Taipei Film Awards.
However, while stylistically and technically impressive, there is not enough substance to back the film up. The performances seem to weaken after Chen’s interview, and by the fourth or fifth subject, the magic is wearing off as the suspense builds too slowly, even waning at points despite Hwang introducing new flourishes and layers to each vignette in a bid to keep them unique. The way they are put together just doesn’t translate into a full narrative. It’s as if Hwang came up with a brilliant idea for a short film, but was unable to flesh it out into a full-length feature.
Photo courtesy of atmovies.com.tw
More information about Xiao Mei is gradually revealed throughout the film, but she continues to float on the periphery with little character development or depth. She’s already described as a shy person without much of an opinion or friends, and this treatment further dilutes her presence. This is another intriguing maneuver Hwang is trying — to piece together a character through the subjective testimonials of other people, each providing a different take on the same person and events, mirroring the way people are perceived in real life without the input of the actual person.
Xiao Mei could be any troubled young woman in the world, who only exists in the minds of the few people she’s crossed paths with. The audience likely won’t develop a connection with Xiao Mei, but maybe that’s how she would have preferred it.
Despite the flaws in the script, it’s a promising debut from Hwang as the skills and flair are there. It should be interesting to see what he comes up with next.
Last week Elbridge Colby, US President Donald Trump’s nominee for under secretary of defense for policy, a key advisory position, said in his Senate confirmation hearing that Taiwan defense spending should be 10 percent of GDP “at least something in that ballpark, really focused on their defense.” He added: “So we need to properly incentivize them.” Much commentary focused on the 10 percent figure, and rightly so. Colby is not wrong in one respect — Taiwan does need to spend more. But the steady escalation in the proportion of GDP from 3 percent to 5 percent to 10 percent that advocates
A series of dramatic news items dropped last month that shed light on Chinese Communist Party (CCP) attitudes towards three candidates for last year’s presidential election: Taiwan People’s Party (TPP) founder Ko Wen-je (柯文哲), Terry Gou (郭台銘), founder of Hon Hai Precision Industry Co (鴻海精密), also known as Foxconn Technology Group (富士康科技集團), and New Taipei City Mayor Hou You-yi (侯友宜) of the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT). It also revealed deep blue support for Ko and Gou from inside the KMT, how they interacted with the CCP and alleged election interference involving NT$100 million (US$3.05 million) or more raised by the
While riding a scooter along the northeast coast in Yilan County a few years ago, I was alarmed to see a building in the distance that appeared to have fallen over, as if toppled by an earthquake. As I got closer, I realized this was intentional. The architects had made this building appear to be jutting out of the Earth, much like a mountain that was forced upward by tectonic activity. This was the Lanyang Museum (蘭陽博物館), which tells the story of Yilan, both its natural environment and cultural heritage. The museum is worth a visit, if only just to get a
More than 100,000 people were killed in a single night 80 years ago yesterday in the US firebombing of Tokyo, the Japanese capital. The attack, made with conventional bombs, destroyed downtown Tokyo and filled the streets with heaps of charred bodies. The damage was comparable to the atomic bombings a few months later in August 1945, but unlike those attacks, the Japanese government has not provided aid to victims and the events of that day have largely been ignored or forgotten. Elderly survivors are making a last-ditch effort to tell their stories and push for financial assistance and recognition. Some are speaking
RSS