If you’re squeamish about intentionally campy, senselessly gory zombie-style bloodfests, stay away from this film.
This reviewer is no fan of the genre, but somehow, between the smooth production, excellent death metal-meets Taiwanese temple music soundtrack, fast paced action and not-so-subtle digs at the government and humanity, The Sadness (哭悲) proved to be mildly entertaining.
The social parody is not as relentless and biting as last August’s Get The Hell Out (逃出立法院), where the nation’s entire legislative body transforms into zombies, but that one was somewhat bogged down by very specific Taiwanese cultural references that could only be appreciated by a familiarity with the nation’s pop culture and sociopolitical events. You don’t need to know that much to understand The Sadness, just sit back and enjoy the crazy rampages and flying guts.
Photo courtesy of iFilm
Set in an anti-Taiwan where the government has chosen to downplay and ignore the potential effects of an ongoing “Alvin Virus” pandemic despite warnings from leading virologists, the virus suddenly mutates and starts turning people into sadistic, bloodthirsty, cannibalistic and lustful maniacs.
What’s interesting here is that the infected still retain their sentience and control over their bodies. They’ve just completely given into their worst tendencies and desires — which makes them way creepier and more dangerous than the typical brainless, bumbling zombie. Even worse, a virologist suggests at one point that they may still be aware of what they’re doing, they just can’t control it anymore — it’s like fighting the urge to blink, he says.
The film opens with lead couple Jack (Berant Chu 朱軒洋) and Kat (Regina,雷嘉納), who are separated when Kat heads to her job in Taipei and Jack stays in their cozy Keelung home. The violence erupts across Taiwan shortly after, and the two try to find each other amid the chaos. That’s about it to the plot (and their relationship) and there’s almost no character development or depth, but director Rob Jabbaz does a decent job in using extreme effects, eerie moods and disturbing dialogue and behavior to carry the film through.
Photo courtesy of iFilm
While Hollywood zombies have most aspects of their humanity removed as they commit their carnage, the infected lunatics here are driven by their all-too-human darker sides. For example, Kat’s primary pursuer (Wang Tzu-chiang, 王自強) is fixated on her since she rejected his advances earlier on the MRT. This is the common theme that emerges from the bloodbath and gives the viewers at least something to, um, chew on.
There’s not much acting skill needed to portray the terrorized and panicking “good guys” in such a film and the two leads do a satisfactory job (it’s Regina’s feature debut). And while some may complain that the behaviors of the infected are too crass and inappropriate, the point of the film is to exaggerate the vileness buried in our hearts.
Kudos to IF SFX Art Maker (覺藝工作室特效化妝) for the special effects (they also worked on Get The Hell Out among other movies). They’ve managed to even make the most extreme scenes look believable and not cheesy, which is something that could make or break the film.
This kind of film is not meant to make much logical sense, and although there are some questionable points, what’s presented is watchable enough. But shiny production, an intriguing concept and a willingness to go beyond what’s normally acceptable isn’t what makes a movie memorable. There’s tons of potential — and value — here, but the oversimplified plot and lack of attention to storytelling nuances and details is notable.
July 1 to July 7 Huang Ching-an (黃慶安) couldn’t help but notice Imelita Masongsong during a company party in the Philippines. With paler skin and more East Asian features, she did not look like the other locals. On top of his job duties, Huang had another mission in the country, given by his mother: to track down his cousin, who was deployed to the Philippines by the Japanese during World War II and never returned. Although it had been more than three decades, the family was still hoping to find him. Perhaps Imelita could provide some clues. Huang never found the cousin;
Once again, we are listening to the government talk about bringing in foreign workers to help local manufacturing. Speaking at an investment summit in Washington DC, the Minister of Economic Affairs, J.W. Kuo (郭智輝), said that the nation must attract about 400,000 to 500,000 skilled foreign workers for high end manufacturing by 2040 to offset the falling population. That’s roughly 15 years from now. Using the lower number, Taiwan would have to import over 25,000 foreigners a year for these positions to reach that goal. The government has no idea what this sounds like to outsiders and to foreigners already living here.
Lines on a map once meant little to India’s Tibetan herders of the high Himalayas, expertly guiding their goats through even the harshest winters to pastures on age-old seasonal routes. That stopped in 2020, after troops from nuclear-armed rivals India and China clashed in bitter hand-to-hand combat in the contested high-altitude border lands of Ladakh. Swaths of grazing lands became demilitarized “buffer zones” to keep rival forces apart. For 57-year-old herder Morup Namgyal, like thousands of other semi-nomadic goat and yak herders from the Changpa pastoralist people, it meant traditional lands were closed off. “The Indian army stops us from going there,” Namgyal said,
A tourist plaque outside the Chenghuang Temple (都城隍廟) lists it as one of the “Top 100 Religious Scenes in Taiwan.” It is easy to see why when you step inside the Main Hall to be confronted with what amounts to an imperial stamp of approval — a dragon-framed, golden protection board gifted to the temple by the Guangxu Emperor that reads, “Protected by Guardians.” Some say the plaque was given to the temple after local prayers to the City God (城隍爺) miraculously ended a drought. Another version of events tells of how the emperor’s son was lost at sea and rescued