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NYAFF 2023: VITAL SIGNS
The 22nd annual New York Asian Film Festival takes place between July 14 and July 30. For more information, click here.
First, a warning in advance: eventually, this will be a review of the film Vital Signs. But before that it must also, briefly, double as a tribute to Louis Koo, as befits his status as the recipient of this years’ Extraordinary Star Asia Award, the highest honor the festival bestows.
.I’m embarrassed to admit that I was a little late on the Louis Koo train. Despite a minor role in 1994’s excellent Organized Crime And Triad Bureau, Koos’ film career didn’t really pick up until the end of the millennium, at which point, spurred by the perceived decline in genre film quality post-1997 handover, my high school bred obsession with Hong Kong action cinema had cooled significantly..
(With hindsight, this was a silly line of thinking; there are always ebbs and flows in any genre in any part of the world at any given time, and there are always gems to be found no matter what. But in my defense… look, Edison Chen and Sam Lee might have distinguished themselves by now, but try watching Gen-Y Cops in 2000 and tell me you’d have stuck around)
At any rate, it was only through belated exposure to his works with Johnnie To that I came to appreciate his talent and the sort of gravity he was just naturally able to exude. He quickly became a welcome presence, a known quantity that could lift the tide of even the weakest script.
With a filmography listing in the low hundreds, it’s a task to get the full picture of his range and his gifts, especially when one’s viewing tendencies trend towards genre. And he is, it goes without saying, a dab hand at all that. But he’s also capable of so much more. So it was above all else a distinct pleasure to see him as this films’ Ma, a veteran paramedic who feels his life coming to a turning point, using his gifts to pursue decidedly more grounded ends.
There are many virtues to Vital Signs, many elements that make it a quality piece of drama. But it cannot be underestimated just how much the mere presence of Louis Koo brings to the table.
Presence.
Key word, that
It is exceedingly easy to imagine the version of this story that acts as a vehicle for a young up-and-comer, a time tested tale of a young, ambitious worker who learns to become an entire person through the love and support of various mentors and lovers. It’s a familiar formula, and one that works a treat when all the pieces are infused with a sense of emotional commitment; as much as we as an audience tend to decry unoriginality, formulas become formulas for a reason; as long as the creators are willing to commit to the cliches, the sense of satisfaction can be as real as anything.
So in a sense, one of the most interesting things that Vital Signs does, is shift the focus slightly, to where the “rookie” (Wong Wai, as played by Neo Yau) takes second chair, finding in Ma a potential father figure, but one that proves more prickly than anticipated.
Perhaps it was just a clever variation, or perhaps it was due to the sheer gravity of Louis Koo’s very presence, but that little switch really is all it takes to make the whole thing feel fresh. And arguably, if that were all the filmmakers did, it might very well be enough all its own. But as it turns out, the ambition doesn’t just stop at that altered perspective; instead, it proves to be just one of the ways in which Vital Signs deviates from the formula; whenever the movie has a choice between the familiar beat and something based more in character dynamics, they go character every time, and it’s that level of casual innovation that lifts this above it’s more typical brethren.
Despite the billing in the festival writeup as “the Dirty Harry of Hong Kong paramedics”, Koo’s Ma cuts a decidedly less imposing figure. While in the broad strokes comparisons could be made; he has a reluctance to “play politics” that has kept him in the trenches and a tendency to flout the rules in an emergency, the devil is in the details. Whereas Dirty Harry seems to evince nothing but contempt for the procedures and protocols that keep him from his perceived task of meting out justice (as opposed to serving the public), Ma resists the glad handing because his entire drive is to be on the street, saving lives.
Or at least, that’s what most of the people around him seem to believe; it’s a virtue of Koo’s layered performance that we can never quite be sure what he’s thinking in terms of his drives and his motivations. Ma keeps his cards close to his chest, but projects such a sense of dutiful stoicism in all his dealings that it gets hard for even the people closest to him to recognize the depth of his struggles.
Because his problems are definitely more complex than a lack of emotional transparency: recently widowed and preparing to move himself and his daughter to Canada (somewhat at the behest of his concerned in-laws), Ma is dealing with severe back pain that is hindering his ability to do his job, as well as the very real possibility that his certifications won’t transfer to the Great North. He’s at looser ends than anyone realizes, or than he can even admit to himself, and the biggest victim might be Ma’s own daughter, who’s starting to have doubts that he even loves her anymore.
It’s all the stuff of high melodrama, but gratifyingly reluctant to tug on the heartstrings in the old, rote ways. It comes by its moments of emotional catharsis organically, and of course that’s due to some sharp writing and some excellent performances.
Koo goes without saying of course, but Yau also shines, integrating the various rookie archetypes (calculating, ambitious up-and-comer, by-the-book idealist, deferential underling) with a seemingly contradictory approach to his personal life as shown in his halting potential romance with Ma’s cousin-in-law Miffy (Angela Yuen, a foul mouthed delight), and somehow making it all seem of a complex, humanist piece.
The underlying themes of immigration and emigration lend an interesting texture to the proceedings; many of the characters Wai and Ma treat are immigrant workers hurt in onsite accidents, which complicate efforts to get them proper care. It’s not didactic, but it is highly visible, and serves to add to the
And while the drama is favored over the medical emergency set pieces so that there are fewer than I expected going in, director Vincci Cheuk (who also wrote the script) makes them count, opting for a riveting methodical approach that favors character over spectacle so that when we finally go big with the final sequence, an all hands on deck bus crash, the sense of urgency feels earned.
I will admit that I didn’t get what I was expecting when I sat down to watch Vital Signs; the whole ‘Dirty Harry in an ambulance’ line, while undeniably catchy, kind of does it a disservice. This isn’t the adrenaline rush I went in expecting. Instead it was something smarter, more meaningful, and more rewarding. The Star Asia Award is one tribute to Louis Koo. This movie is another entirely.
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NYAFF 2023: ANIMATED SHORTS
The 22nd annual New York Asian Film Festival takes place between July 14 and July 30. For more information, click here.
Alongside the (unifromly excellent) live action shorts showcase, this year the NYAFF is running an animated shorts program. I was lucky enough to be able to catch all ten, and here are my thoughts:
There’s something purposefully childlike in the style choices director Lee Yung-Chieh makes in his brief little interlude Confusion Of The Afternoon. Opening in a kind of diorama-esque tableau, a fleeting moment of human contact stops time and melts reality into an expressionistic rush of watercolor animation resembling a softwash of moving fingerpaints, as a young student experiences feelings he cannot even begin to understand. The film passes in an instant, as does the moment itself. But in art just as much as life, its memory lingers.
The thing is, I knew exactly what Kang Nam-jim doing and where we were almost certain to wind up, pretty much as soon as it started. And most likely, so will you. But it doesn’t matter; if you’ve ever been part of a family, there is at least a halfway decent chance that you will be helpless before the power of What We Leave Behind, an at times absolutely gutting journey through the three major L’s of human existence: love, loss, and loneliness. Stop motion brings the history of an apartment to life in the form of the trappings of daily existence; we hear the voices of a pair of newlyweds as they move in and we see boxes unpack themselves, dishes appear and disappear during candlelight dinners, a baby crib put itself together… life being lived, and time passing. Birthdays, Christmases, graduations. The years tick by faster and faster, and, well… just look at the title. It’s not hard to see where this is going. It is, without a doubt, manipulative stuff. But it works, because as anyone who has ever had to clean out a place they’ve lived in for an extended period of time already knows, there’s an undeniable power to reviewing the moments of our lives through the prism of the inanimate objects that surrounded us in those moments. It works, because it’s universal.
And now for something equally personal, but significantly lighter… as a person who is, even after several decades, still typing on a keyboard under protest, the charming essay film Handwritten by Jaime Sunwoo was very much speaking my language. Animated in an endearing style resembling a hand-crafted pop-up book, Sunwoo explores the lost art of writing on paper from a multitude of angles and what these things may or may not say about us as people. She proves an ingratiating guide and when I say it feels like the grown-up version of a segment from, say, The Electric Company or 3-2-1 Contact, I mean it as the highest compliment.
I’m not sure if this is an adaptation of an old fairy tale or merely a story in that mode that director Hu Rui invented, but if Goose Mountain is an original, he certainly has the tone down pat. In style and substance, this story of a peddler traveling a mountain road to sell some geese and his near-induction into a matryoshka doll of spirit world infidelity feel uncannily like something you’d find in an old dusty book of fables: kind of funny, kind of dark, kind of sad, and always ominous. The art style even resembles the illustrations you’d find in such a book, inky monochrome with occasional slashes of red. Completely silent but making use of intertitles that’s implementation of the second person gives the whole thing a uniquely intimate sheen, Goose Mountain attains a proper bedtime story feel tailor made for the cool kind of creepy kid.
The fact that there’s an actual fairy in Kong Songhee’s Borderline. Should in no way be taken as a sign that it’s a happier story than Goose Mountain. If anything, it’s a misdirect, a bewinged shot of false hope. It’s not difficult to assess that the fairy tale dreamscapes in Kong Songhee’sare about something, and the clues pile up over it’s short runtime, but it’s not until the final, unblinking moments that the jaws snaps shut and we see just how sharp the teeth of the tale really were. This is a very different variety of dark fairy tale than the kind that Goose Mountain pays homage to; from the very first frame there’s a sense of menace as a little girl takes a journey towards a lighthouse that isn’t a lighthouse, chased by… something or someone. The art style and the imagery are both simple and surreal, and suffused with a constant underpinning of disorienting threat.
The selection of animated shorts on this program are each visually stunning in their own way, but if I had to pick one that wins the award for most unique aesthetic, I might just have to hand it to The Kidnapping by Good Giu and Liu Kuang. This sweetly sentimental tale about a crotchety oldster on the verge of moving out of his old neighborhood into a high rise, and the magical talking lottery ticket that carries him off for a secret meeting is CGI, but given a multicolor polish that makes everything look like a three dimensional impressionist painting. It’s a style I’ve never seen before, and one I wouldn’t mind seeing a bit more of.
My initial thought after watching the legend-prodding, visually variant journey into Chinese myth that is Chiang Yao’s Impurrfection is that it’s a weirdly punny title for a story that, while not particularly serious, isn’t aiming to be funny in quite that way. The second was that it, along with The Kidnapping, felt the closest to a Pixar short in tone and form as well as content. It’s a cute little story of a cat that lost out on the chance to be part of the Zodiac due to a fear of water (it makes sense when you watch it), and how he stumbles upon, and winds up becoming guardian to an adorable human baby. It’s a cute, entirely pleasant, real comfort food sort of story, and the mix of animation styles (3-D in the present day, but hand-drawn in flashbacks) lend it a lovely kind of charm.
And speaking of charm… I wish I had a better frame of reference for the stylistic beauty of Ship Down The Well than South Park, but it’s at least a useful comparison in terms of how they approached a cut-out style similar to what Chen Xi and Zhou Xiaolin implement here; where by both necessity and temperament Trey Parker and Matt Stone went crude and ugly, there is a delicate beauty to the construction of the figures here, and a real sense of depth and detail in the world Xi and Xiaolin have designed. The story itself, about a quartet of kids who explore the setting of the title, evokes a universal sense of childhood play and more than anything I’ve seen in recent memory, captures the feel of the story you told when you came in at sunset and your parents asked you what you and your friends got up to on a lazy August afternoon.
As a fan of hand-drawn 2-D animation, the very aesthetic on display in Yu Shui’s Little Pig Demon had me on board immediately; there was a fairly good chance I was going to love this regardless of the content, on sheer look alone. Happily, it had more to offer than just lovely visuals; it’s a funny and cool story about a pair of bumbling demons forced to work on a plot to capture and eat a heroic monk. I’m pretty sure the story is a one-and-done, but I’d gladly watch an entire series about the adventures of Pig and Crow.
But, close as that comes to being my favorite, there’s one last entry that needs to be discussed…
Here’s what it is, straight and no chaser: I’ve actually seen Hidari before, and… look. Every single short in this program has a high watchability quotient, and I would recommend each and every one of them. But if, for some Godforsaken reason, you’re only able to catch one on penalty of death… I think this might have to be it. I think it might actually be available online, so for once I’m not going to say anything. Just plop Hidari into google, click on the link and prepare yourself for five minutes of hand-carved, stop motion astonishment. Directors Masashi Kawamura and Iku Ogawa are master craftsmen, and we should give them whatever they ask for.
Just like the live action shorts, the NYAFF has curated one hell of a collection here, and if ever you have the opportunity to catch one (or preferably all) of them, do not hesitate.
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HAUNTED MANSION is a Faithful Adaptation – And That Might Be Its Biggest Problem
Pictures provided by Walt Disney Studios In 2003, the Walt Disney Company was in something of a wilderness period. After a dominant 1990s, on the strength of the recurrence of their animation department, they were struggling to chart the waters for their future. In what was seen as a sign of desperation at the time, they came out with two films based on their most popular Disneyland attractions. One was Pirates of the Caribbean: the Curse of the Black Pearl, a critical and financial global hit that ushered in a franchise that eventually spawned the most expensive film ever made, and marked a turning point for the studio to eventually become the dominant popular culture juggernaut.
The other film was The Haunted Mansion, the latest in a long string of Eddie Murphy-helmed family comedies that more or less put Murphy’s mid-career persona against the backdrop of the beloved ride. The end result was a film that, while functional, played more as a Murphy vehicle than an especially fitting love letter to the ride itself. It also struggled under a more laboriously convoluted plot than a breezy family comedy should necessitate. Unlike Pirates, no sequels ever manifested and the film was destined to be mostly an interesting footnote to history.
A long-in-development reboot finally comes out this year, dropping the definite article, from Dear White People director Justin Simien, and the film makes the wise decision to spread the heavy lifting slightly, pulling in an all-star comedy cast of Tiffany Haddish, Owen Wilson and Danny DeVito, along with a more straightlaced hero in LaKeith Stanfield, to more or less play variations on their own personas against the Mansion’s backdrop. The end result is an amusing ode to the ride itself that will tickle the dopamine brain, but places most of the heavy lifting on Stanfield’s shoulders. The end result is a film that betrays its origins as a theme park attraction, until it clunks into place in an attempt to drive at deeper themes it has not equipped itself to tackle meaningfully.
Stanfield plays Ben, a disgraced developer of lenses used in astrophysics who attempted to develop a means to capture photographs of ghosts after the death of his wife. Now slumming it as New Orleans’ least engaged tour guide, he is approached by Father Kent (Wilson), an unorthodox priest who has been assisting Gabbie (Rosario Dawson) and her son Travis (Chase W. Dillon) with a ghost problem in their house. When offered a significant cash payment to take pictures in the home, Ben agrees, certain there is nothing to be found.
Of course the house in question turns out to be the iconic, titular mansion, and Ben himself becomes a victim of a hitchhiking ghost that drives him back to the mansion to fulfill an uncertain purpose. Soon Ben, Kent and Gabbie recruit a whole team of paranormal experts, that include budget psychic medium Harriet (Haddish) and an academic expert on New Orleans haunting Bruce (DeVito). The crew soon uncover the secrets of the Mansion, and how the various ghosts are held hostage by the infamous Hatbox Ghost (Jared Leto, in a performance that is entirely performance capture and voice acting).
The film’s general premise, which blends comedic hijinx alongside light-hearted creepies, will most directly remind viewers of 1980s horror comedies of the likes of Ghostbusters or especially Beetlejuice. Winona Ryder even shows up for an amusing cameo. But unlike those films, which have distinct perspectives and visions of their worlds, much of Haunted Mansion plays like a spot-the-reference game, playing out show scenes from the dark ride in cinematic fashion to various degrees of success. The end result is a more faithful recreation of the source material, a playful showcase of beloved set pieces in a new format. It begs the question why it wasn’t a Disney+ exclusive, if not for the fact that between impressive visual effects and a star-studded cast, it was likely very expensive.
This light touch however is somewhat betrayed by Stanfield’s Ben, whose grief over his lost wife and the depression that follows serve as a major crux for the plot to work through. The contrast between these two poles, a comedic reimagining of a theme park attraction and an earnest reflection of the pain of losing beloved people, causes a sense of whiplash that the film never quite balances, a commercial servant to disperse masters. Simien and screenwriter Katie Dippold clearly have a perspective they want to explore, and ideas regarding how death can affect the living. But these scenes hit more strangely when appearing between literal Scooby Doo homages.
The great magic of the Haunted Mansion ride is that it takes the universally macabre subject of death and twists into enchanting comic fun. When the film then turns back around and tries to take those same subjects on face value, it makes the fun feel cheaper and irreverent by comparison. In this way, the new Haunted Mansion sets its sights both higher and lower than the attempt two decades prior. In both directions it works better than the first go around, but it still feels like a trifling effort, an exercise in adaptation that flounders due its own split vision.Perhaps they’ll get it right in 2043.
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FANTASIA 2023: A Chat with Renaissance Woman and Director of PRUNING Lola Blanc
Photo by: Mikey Piliero Lola Blanc’s short film Pruning, which I caught at Fantasia, was a bleak and visceral foray into the right-wing phenomenon that left me speechless after the credits rolled. The film starred Madeline Brewer as a right-wing talking head who unintentionally inspires a mass shooting. The woman is then forced to choose either to abandon her conscience and push the rhetoric to become a star, or to call for a stop and turn against her party. Her choice and how Blanc visualized that as a director was nothing short of ghastly and unforgettable.
Afterwards I got the chance to chat with Blanc, who is not only a director, but a renaissance woman of sorts; she is also an accomplished singer, actor and podcaster.
Fun fact: Blanc was once in a cult and that is the topic of the podcast she co-hosts, Trust Me.
Read on for my chat with Lola Blanc, who gave some great insight into not only her directorial process, but her political beliefs that help to form Pruning:
Lola, I read that you’re also an accomplished musician and actor. What made you want to go behind the camera?
Lola Blanc: I kind of discovered over time as I was shooting music videos for my projects, I would just have really specific ideas for what I wanted, and sometimes directors could interpret that and sometimes they could not. It just took me a long time to really acknowledge that I could be a director, because I’ve always had really clear ideas about what I wanted to see both visually and narratively. Finally I just took the leap and I haven’t looked back. It’s my absolute favorite thing that I do at this point.
So what was sort of the genesis of Pruning and what drove you to tell the story of a far right spokeswoman who inspires a shooting and her struggle with that?
Lola Blanc: Originally, my co-writer Jeremy Radin and I had talked about doing something political together. We actually bonded on Twitter and started talking about how he (Jeremy) could have seen himself becoming an incel. And I thought that was really, really interesting because I’m really interested in incel culture and sort of far right extremism, and then that sort of fell apart.
One day I was just watching some news and hearing about some people who are quite incendiary, in my opinion, and rather dangerous. I thought it would be super interesting to explore what it would be like if you were the person who actually had inspired a mass shooting with your rhetoric. And Jeremy seemed like the perfect person to write it with because we’d had all of these conversations already.
Madeline Brewer in Pruning So given your background as somebody who was actually in a cult, I think you’re sort of the perfect person to highlight the cultishness of some of these pockets of right-wing ideology. What do you think attracts folks to this and sort of locks them into these echo chambers?
Lola Blanc: I think what attracts people to it is that the answers to everything are really clear. In a culture of fear-mongering, everything is really black and white and therefore the world is really easy to understand. You don’t have to face the chaos and face the gray areas and the terrifying realities that are the world. I think every human craves that. It’s just a matter of what we are exposed to in times of uncertainty? What are we being exposed to in times of cultural tumultuousness?
I mean it’s so different for everyone. We have had a former Q Anon believer and a former conspiracy theorist on my podcast. (https://www.trustmepod.com) It’s so random how it works for everyone. But what we typically see is that, you kind of look to these things for meaning in times when you don’t have any, or when something is just making your life feel uncertain.
So given the subject matter, I have to say, it feels like whenever a filmmaker tries to tackle mass shootings or incorporate that into their narrative, audiences and distributors get nervous. But it’s something we’re very familiar with as Americans. Why do you think we’re so averse to having this in our media and facing it as a people?
Lola Blanc: I mean, it’s just such a touchy subject. It’s instantly gonna create an argument.
Half of the country believes it’s guns and half of the country believes it’s definitely not guns, no matter what the other cause is, it’s not guns. The truth is probably a much more complicated answer than any of those things. But no matter what, it’s going to be controversial, it’s gonna be painful, it’s gonna be a scary thing to deal with and it’s a really hard thing to tackle.
That’s why in the film, I didn’t want to focus on the shooting itself, because I don’t feel like I would even do justice to a story that is focusing on the actual experience of the shooting. That’s a pain I cannot understand. But what I feel I can add to the conversation is some of the rhetoric that can contribute to ideas that then lead to shootings.
Do you think sooner or later I think we’re gonna have to face it in our media, so we can actually start to have these conversations?
Lola Blanc: Yeah. It’s just, it has to be done sensitively and everyone is afraid of going there. We absolutely should be talking about it. We should not be desensitized when we see shootings on the news. We should have media that is forcing us to face it and contend with it and feel the strong feelings that it should be making us feel because it’s horrific.
So, I love the cost that you sort of associate with this and the circumstances that you give to these people that sort of perpetuate this rhetoric and you try to dig into the psychological effects as well on this person who’s responsible for this. Do you feel like these people are ever gonna get their comeuppance?
Lola Blanc: Well, as we’re seeing, Tucker Carlson was exposed for not believing some of what he was saying on TV that he knew was whipping people up into a frenzy. We know that Alex Jones is finally seeing consequences. It seems like it’s slowly starting to happen.
I hope it continues to happen. I think if you are knowingly, purposely willingly or willfully riling people up for money with no regard to the consequences and in no regard to how it will be received at all, you absolutely should face some consequence for that and hopefully it will continue to happen.
What’s next for you?
Lola Blanc: I really wanna do a feature. I have another short coming up that’s actually part music video, for my next release as an artist. That will be my fourth short film, and I would really, really like to move on to features at this point. I definitely wanna stay in the psychological thriller space. I feel like that is where my heart is and I hope to dive into more dark character studies because it’s what I really what I wanna do at this time.
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NYAFF 2023: MARRY MY DEAD BODY
The 22nd annual New York Asian Film Festival takes place between July 14 and July 30. For more information, click here.
Taiwan is largely considered one of the more progressive parts of Asia, and yet it’s only in the past four years that gay marriage has been officially sanctioned. So in a sense, it’s easy to take for granted the progress we’ve seen in the states, especially at a time when certain sectors seem dead set on rolling those hard-won freedoms back.
But in another sense, it’s a bit besides the point to focus on the real world/political aspects of the film, which seems far less invested in making a political statement than using gay themes as a backdrop for a wild eyed, helter skelter genre collison.
And you know what, fair enough; in the world of cinema, that certainly counts as a form of progress.
But for me personally, therein lies the curious conundrum that Marry My Dead Body represents: a movie that would have been progressive in America had it come out in, say 1990 but in 2023 it feels almost… quaint.
It would be incorrect to say that the film is a mess, but there are a fair amount of tonal shifts and narrative curlicues that give what in some senses is a fairly formulaic film a unique and interesting texture, while also serving to hamper the overall experience.
Heartthrob Hsu Kuang Han is our hero Lin Tzu-Ching, a standard issue cop who doesn’t play by the rules. The film begins with a gym-based cruise that is quickly revealed as part of a sting operation, and one almost wishes there was more of this vibe; the scene that briefly bristles with a seductive homoerotic tension that felt unique and strangely dangerous.
Tzu-Ching gets his man (so to speak), but his rough handling and less-than-tolerant taunting of the suspect result in a demotion and a transfer to a smaller precinct, far away from the action and the accolades he so desperately craves.
As an American, it’s strange to think how unremarkable a character like Wu Ming Wan would have been had this been a movie from my youth. And more to the point, the character arc he undergoes would never have come to pass, because it never would have occurred to anyone that he needed to change in the first place.
It’s probably not worth the effort to detail the convoluted chain of events that leads to Lin marrying an openly gay ghost (Austin Lin’s Mao-Mao), or how that ties in to Lin’s attempts to take down big time gangster Lin Hsaio-Yuan (Tsai Chen Nan), but suffice it to say the wunza formula, as codified by Roger Ebert, is alive and well:
Wunza cop, wunza gay ghost; together, they’re trouble for the bad guys!
Even if it doesn’t cohere as well as one might like, it’s undeniable that this pell-mell approach to genre trappings generally proves to be an advantage: anybody who has seen more than ten movies in their life should have a pretty good idea of all the beats this movie is going to hit. But the restless jumping between supernatural farce, buddy cop flick, family drama and YouTube video about a cute doggy means that those beats don’t necessarily come when or where you’re expecting, and don’t necessarily play out in quite the way audiences have been conditioned to expect.
Providing a necessary anchor is the genuine chemistry between Lin and Kuang Han. Once the initial tension dissolves and they reluctantly come to appreciate and rely on one another, the duo play off of each other with a sort of goofball glee. More to the point, Kuang Han is at his best in the moments where he’s allowed to go all in on the goofiness. His take on the ‘cop who doesn’t play by the rules’ is… fine. It’s perfectly acceptable, but by necessity Lin Tzu-Chang isn’t particularly likable to start with, and Kuang Han does little to differentiate him from the scores of cops with attitude that came before.
Though admittedly, it feels highly unlikely that any of them had quite as much skill at pole dancing as Kuang Han displays at one point. But perhaps I digress…
Another curious and somewhat puzzling aspect to all this is that we never really get an idea of what made Wu Ming quite so virulently homophobic. When almost everyone else in the film chastises him for his retrograde attitudes (implying that society as a whole has largely moved past such discrimination; “Don’t be a prude like us old people”, one of them even chastises), it becomes even more difficult to understand just why he’s carrying such a virulent stance. And the presumably unintentional end result of the singular focus is that it seems less like Wu Ming has learned a lesson about tolerance than him learning to be much nicer to one particular gay person.
To that point… there’s no question Austin Lin has the showier role, and he plays it to the hilt. Never falling back on stereotypes (unless his character is weaponizing them to wreak havoc on his huffy hubby), Lin laces his considerable comic chops with pangs of loneliness and anger that become more prominent as more of his past is revealed.
While Lin and Juang Han are most of the show here, they are supported by a cast that, while not given all that much to do, make the most out of the moments to shine that they’re given.
Gingle Wong makes a fairly good impression as a fellow cop who Ming-Han is infatuated with, and both her performance and the film itself are canny in the way they play with genre expectations. The same goes for Ma Nien Hsien as the police captain, who is afforded some goofy notes that captain types are rarely allowed to hit.
If there’s a weak link, it’s Flower Chen as Tzu-Ching’s pre-demotion partner Chubby, whose two character traits are fat and gay, and mostly disappears from the narrative before he has the chance to develop anything like a second dimension. Though the film is commendable in its intentions and there is really no point where “gay” is the punchline and Tzu-Ching and hos regressive attitudes remain the constant and consistent butt of the joke, Chen’s scenes come within spitting distance of the sort of thing this film is supposed to be a riposte to.
And there must be special mention made of Chang Zhang Xing as A-Goa, a henchman who figures into the highlight of the film, a high octane, wildly kinetic vehicular pursuit that ranks among the best car chases in recent memory.
Unfortunately, when it comes to the action portion of the genre mishmash, that’s pretty much as good as it gets; with the aid of a highly conspicuous drone camera, director Cheng Wei-Hua orchestrates that initial chase with style and verve, but the rest of the film never matches that energy; in fact, aside from a brief shootout at the end, there’s really very little action at all; a weird choice. Considering just how hard they go in on the cop drama of it all.
And yet, there’s one last baffling swerve in store, as even after the cop plot has come to a somewhat unexpected, potentially unsatisfying conclusion, there’s still another fifteen minutes of film left, as Mao-Mao must have attain closure from his seemingly homophobic father (Tou Chung Hun, very good in an awkwardly written part).
This is the exact point at which the film has officially overstayed its welcome, and while the film never soft-sells the melodrama, trying to full-on jerk tears at the last moment feels like a stunning misread of the audiences connection to that aspect of the story.
And in that, it occurs to me that there are some distinct similarities between this movie and classic Hong Kong films such as Mr. Vampire or Magic Cop. Heedlessly jumping between genres and tones with, frankly, none of the control that Wei-Hua shows with this material. But for all the ways that this improves on that sort of thing from a technical/coherence standpoint, never in a million years would Wong Jing try to convince you there was anything like emotional depth. Say what you will about his output, but at least he had a read on how to send audiences out the door.
Still, I’m reluctant to come down too hard on Marry My Dead Body. For all its flaws, it was still a generally entertaining ride. And the positive moments are going to linger with me far longer than the ones that didn’t work.
Also: not for nothing, but as a man who can appreciate a fine butt regardless of gender, Hsu Kuang Hans’ is nothing to sneeze at.
To be clear, it’s not a reason to see the movie per se; it has enough qualities to justify that all its own. Think of it more like a shapely little bonus.
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NYAFF 2023: OKIKU AND THE WORLD
The 22nd Annual New York Asian Film Festival takes place from July 14 to July 30. For more information, click here.
I suppose that when you get right down to it, the most remarkable thing about Okiku And The World is that it’s a 90-minute movie almost entirely about shit, and that it’s not a metaphor.
I mean, certainly, you could read it that way; certainly, some of the characters do. But in the approach of filmmaker Sakamoto Junji, the shit is anything but a metaphor. It’s an inevitable, concrete, inarguable fact of life, a thing that exists whether we want to think about it or not. And has to be dealt with.
Also… there are samurai.
If I was twelve, there’s a decent chance this would have been my most anticipated film of the year.
(In reality it was Cool World. But there’s really no need to get into any of that right now)
But 12-year old me most likely would have been disappointed in the actual watching of it, and exactly for the reasons addressed above: while the premise is an off-color one, there’s very little in the film itself that ought to be considered transgressive in terms of actual content. The actual body of the film is less concerned with grossing you out, and more concerned with the characters lives, and struggles, and the halting love story that acts as the lynchpin of a movie that only pretends to be more interested in the bowels than the heart.
It’s a leisurely stroll through life and romance, and the droppings are the backdrop.
The film takes place over the course of seven chapters, a prologue, and an epilogue, and after the opening crawl that describes a political situation that boils down to ‘things are kinda shitty’, we open with that rarest of cinematic events: a three-way meet cute.
In an era where plumbing isn’t even a pipe dream, it is the job of Yasuke (Ikematsu Sosuke) to go from town to town collecting the shit from everyone’s outhouse, and reselling it in turn to farmers as crop fertilizer. It is on his travels that he meets Chuji (Kanichiro), an illiterate paper collector with whom he takes refuge under the roof in a massive rainstorm.
The titular Okiku (Kuroki Haru), despite her top billing, shows up to the party last, trying very hard to pretend she doesn’t need to… powder her nose.
The stuff of which true friendships are born.
It isn’t long before Chuji ditches his old gig in favor of becoming Yasuke’s apprentice, and the object of Okiku’s affections. Okiku, the stubborn, somewhat prideful daughter of former samurai Genbei (Sato Koichi), has yet to adjust to her loss of position.
Her world is upended when her father is paid a visit from some members of the clan that he had gotten in trouble for bad mouthing in the first place. Resigned to his fate, the old man goes directly from the toilet to the chopping block.
I will not lie; this is a point at which I got rather excited. The previous twenty minutes or so had been suffused with a level of casual scatology that managed to feel matter-of-course when it could have felt gleefully prurient.
Granted, the prurience would have felt nice. But it also, I suspect, would have gotten old rather fast.
So the approach to the subject matter had already won me over and endeared the film to me. Indeed, the only thing that could improve the situation is if they were to throw a swordfight.
So when Okiku hears what happened, silently opens a drawer, and pulls out a small blade, I was all hyped for shit to go down.
Shit, so to speak, does not go down.
Instead, we cut to a bloody aftermath: her father dead, her throat slashed, and all hope of badassery cut off at the knees.
When the next chapter opens, a season has passed, and Okiku is living in the aftermath of her tragic loss. But, interestingly, with the conflict deflated, the film never raises the issue of story again. It instead becomes what writer-director Sakamoto Junji clearly intended it to be from the start: a meditation piece.
For life continues apace, in spite of everything. And eventually, everybody falls into their new rhythms. Chuji learns the ropes of shit collection, Yusuke’s good humor starts to curdle as he becomes bitter over his lack of upward mobility and deference to his economic superiors; and a traumatized Okiku, no longer able to speak, slowly begins to emerge from her seclusion.
There’s something of genuine beauty in the whole of Okiku And The World. It’s as if Junji decided to take on the challenge of basing a movie around feces and still making it gorgeous, and against all odds, that’s just what he did. The black and white (with occasional flashes of color) cinematography is glorious (not to mention clever thinking when it comes to the actual images of crap; that would be wayyyy too much brown and far too real if they had gone with color) and the editing has a zen-like rhythm that makes the inevitable passing of time seem almost soothing.
But more to the point: it’s just plain pleasurable to spend time in the company of our main trio. Kanichiro and Sosuke make for an endearing comedy duo, with Chuji’s innocence and unfailing decency playing off of Yusuke’s rueful frippery perfectly. And while Okiku starts out intentionally a bit bratty, Haru never overplays her hand, and the scatological nature of her surroundings puncture her
All of which, of course, is mere prelude to her ultimate transformation in the second half, a humbled, entirely silent performance that’s equal parts reserved and moving. If the romance is somewhat less enthralling than just watching everybody go about their paces, it still succeeds in the sense we want Chuji and Okiku to get together, if for no other reason than they’re kind of sweet together and could both use a win.
A special shout out feels in order for Sato Koichi, in his brief role of Okiku’s father. It’s obvious why he can’t stick around for the entire film, but he makes the most of the limited time he has onscreen and runs away with every last moment he’s given; it’s hard to imagine anyone walking away with their dignity after being asked to say some of the lines he’s given here, but he does it every single time.
Just the way he muses that maybe someday he’ll fart and shit at the same time makes you realize our criteria for awarding performances is seriously misguided.
If you were to read a one line description of Okiku And The World, it would probably form a very specific picture in your head. That the movie refuses to be that will probably be disappointing to people who are like 12-year old me. But if I’m being honest, 12-year old me was an idiot, and his disapproval is kind of all the recommendation you need.
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NYAFF 2023: BEAR MAN
The 22nd Annual New York Asian Film Festival takes place between July 14 and July 30. For more information, click here.
If one were to judge simply from the title, it doesn’t seem too improbable that people would assume Bear Man was a super hero movie, or at the very least a super hero movie parody. And though there aren’t necessarily the familiar trappings such as glossy costumes or big budget special effects… sure, you could make a plausible argument. What most likely wouldn’t immediately come to mind is any kind of cop thriller. And yet… it kind of is. But at the same time… no it’s not, not really.
Bear Man is and isn’t a lot of things, but if it has to be just one thing above all else, let’s go with…entertaining.
Fascinatingly, the nonsense seeming premise of Bear Man has its roots in actual Korean myth: the legend of Ungnyeo, a bear who became a human woman after praying to the gods and eating a lot of garlic and mugwort. It’s all laid out in a stylish little animated intro that signifies the films’ charm offensive right out the gate.
In this modern burlesque, however, it becomes the story of a pair of bears who escape from captivity in 1997, stumble upon enough garlic and mugwort to make the transformation into men (both played by Park Sung-woong in a dual role), and are then separated and raised by very different parental figures.
Woongnom is brought up by his eccentric yet loving scientist dad, Na Bockcheon (Dal-su Oh), to become an affable sweetheart with a bottomless hunger and abilities far beyond those of normal humans.
Woongbok, in the other hand, is found in the wild by business mogul Lee Jeongsik (Min-su Choi) during a hunting trip. Jeongsik is the CEO of a corporation called Big History, which happens to be a front for drug smuggling and (go figure) black market biological weapon sales.
And has exactly the sort of parental disposition one might expect from the sort of malcontent who makes his entrance by grilling and eating a rare steak while talking to a crony, which as we all know is classic bad guy behavior.
To that end, Woongbok is essentially thrown into a pit of brutal thugs and forced to fight his way out, day after day, until through years of pain and suffering, he finally emerges having been forged into Daddy’s Perfect Little Weapon. He is gifted a wooden knife (and also a legacy of soul deadening trauma), and takes the new Lee Jeong-hak name his place at his fathers’ side as the heir apparent to a criminal empire that the law will stop at nothing to take down.
With that sort of backdrop, it’s obviously only a matter of time before the two bear men are reunited. But the path to that reunion is… deliriously, delightfully odd..
But then… you’d have to work hard to come up with a premise like ‘bears turn into identical twins on opposite sides of the law and then proceed to make something… normal out of it. It’d be an impressive feat and a truly disappointing one, both at the same time.
While the brevity (the film clocks in at a little over 90 minutes) and a surfeit of gonzo energy, the film never flags, but in some ways its at its most charming in the opening act, where we acclimate ourselves to Woongnom’s world. Somewhat at loose ends after getting fired (and somehow his job history is even more convoluted than his backstory), he wiles away the days using his enhanced senses to sniff out troublemakers at the convenience store where his best friend Malbong (Yi-Keong Lee), an aspiring vlogger, works the counter.
Misadventures with Malbong lead to an arrest, which in turn leads to Yoon Je Moon’s Chief of Police noticing the resemblance to Lee Jeong;hak, which leads… more or less to where you’d expect and/or hope.
It has to be said that it’s a decidedly curious version of the ol’ double up; the secondary role of Jhonghok doesn’t give Sung-woong much more to do other than look impassive and bust out a flurry of brutal beatdowns, slicing up all comers with that trusty wooden knife. It’s not quite Nicolas Cage in Adaptation we’re talking about here, but he more than gets the job done, looks good doing it, and most importantly, is never less than a joy to watch.
So, yeah… in theory you’d think this would be your basic undercover/mistaken identity caper… with an ursine twist. But in practice, that aspect of the plot mostly takes a backseat until pretty much the very end; director Park Sung Kwang and the cast are far more interested in goofing around and scribbling in the margins, and that’s really what elevates the film from a good idea well-executed to a cult classic just waiting to happen.
There are so many fun runners, weird digressions, and tossed off visual gags that the actual plot almost starts to feel like an intrusion; Choi really chews the scenery like it was one of his steaks as Jeong-sik, but he’s not really in this all that much. And the stuff with his plot to smuggle a super virus is such nonsense that it starts to feel like yet another gag. But I get the choice: why waste time trying to pretend there are high stakes when it’s way more fun to have a detective side character be forced to constantly be squatting as punishment by his superior, or just randomly have a character who showed up for ten seconds at the beginning of the movie show up during the exciting finale to try and take over Malbongs’ livestream?
…Oooh, I should be more careful; Bear Man really is one of those movies where just describing it to people is nearly as much fun as watching it. Granted, it’s not perfect; the two female roles are well-assayed by Baek Ju Hye and Han Da Sol but given very little to do, comparatively speaking. Still, even that feels like a minor flaw in light of how much sheer entertainment the movie is able to squeeze into a mere 90 minutes. It’s more fun than a pack of CGI warthogs.
Which is also a thing that is in the movie.
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FANTASIA 2023: RESTORE POINT is a Rousing Dose of High Concept Czech Sci-Fi
Restore Point is a rousing dose of high concept Czech sci-fi, that screened and Fantasia and is the directorial debut by Robert Hloz. The film borrows liberally from Mamoru Oshii’s anime classic Ghost in the Shell and Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner to tell the story of Em (Andrea Mohylová), a female detective trying to solve two murders in a futuristic metropolis in 2041. The hook here is due to the rise of violent crime, anyone who dies of unnatural causes can be “restored”, or brought back to life for up to 48 hours after their death. The only quirks of the process is not only the time limit of 48 hours, but the fact that during life a person is then forced to back up constantly to take advantage of this government service. This basically forces folks to spend every waking moment pondering their mortality, and preparing for their death, rather than simply living their lives.
This is where the terrorist organization “The River of Life” comes in. They are quick to point out the weight this “unnatural” technology inflicts on the psyche of the population and highlight it by committing “absolute murders” to terrorize the populace. This is where the victims are always found past their 48 hours, or their backups have been erased/destroyed to ensure their inability to restore. When the absolute murders Em is charged with investigating turn out to be the pioneer of the restore technology – David Kurlstat (Matěj Hádek) and his wife, things get a bit intriguing, especially given the government funded company is looking to privatize its tech. It’s then up to Em, to navigate this future noir, to find the who and the why behind these murders as well as give us a glimpse of what put her on this path.
Envisioning the future is no easy task, but Restore’s take feels both organic and believable. It feels just lived in enough while not going too far, which definitely helps us to actually believe this technology exists. Andrea Mohylová as Em is a powerful and charismatic lead, who manages to remain both empowered and independent throughout the film. It’s something that’s never second guessed by anyone she encounters either, as she traverses this world – especially when going on the run. The narrative here is solid, and has some interesting ideas about the science and the morality of not only the restore service, but the murder that transpires in the film – once all the cards are on the table. It’s something I wasn’t quite expecting, but leads to some fun post-film conversations and reflections.
While no doubt derivative, it does so in the best possible way, in that it still feels like it has its own angle – while still “borrowing” from other films in the genre. The film’s imaginative production design and cast are what really elevates the material from being simply a knock off when it retreads some familiar territory that better films have previously traversed. That said, while the film doesn’t reinvent the wheel, it does however put its own interesting spin on it and that definitely warrants a watch alone. Restore Point is a slick sci-fi thriller that looks like it would feel right at home in an American multiplex. It’s a strikingly cerebral future noir that has its own unique hook which zeroes in on what makes living in the moment, without fear the only way to live.
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Criterion Review: Terry Gilliam’s TIME BANDITS [4K-UHD]
![Criterion Review: Terry Gilliam’s TIME BANDITS [4K-UHD]](https://i0.wp.com/cinapse.co/wp-content/uploads/2023/06/image-12.png?resize=1140%2C641&ssl=1)
A whimsical and wonderful adventure through space and time
Criterion continue their 4K treatment of Terry Gilliam’s oeuvre with The Fisher King and The Adventures of Baron Munchausen (bring on Brazil please) with one of his most cherished features, Time Bandits. Another fantastical adventure that traverses time and space, but begins in a young boys bedroom. Kevin (a wide eyed and eager performance from Craig Warnock) is a precocious child, who prefers to escape to the solitude of his room and invention of his imagination, rather than spend time in the drudgery of his detached family and the rote world outside.
One night, a man mounted on a horse charges out of through the wardrobe in his room, and as quickly as it appeared, vanishes. The following night six dwarfs burst into his room. In their possession is a mysterious scroll. A map to portals in the universe that they stole from their boss, the Supreme Being. Kevin gets swept up in their escape and soon finds himself caught up in their hi-jinks as they hop through different eras, meeting famed characters such as Robin Hood (John Cleese), King Agamemnon (Sean Connery), and Napoleon (Ian Holm), all while looking to evade capture and line their pockets. But, danger lurks on the horizon as Evil learns of the map being in their possession, and sets out to take it for himself.
Gilliam’s films are always a blend of light and dark, humor and tragedy, but Time Bandits stands out as a film that feels like it was more squarely aimed at kids. In no way does it feel compromised in this regard. The film does not pander or condescend, or fail to deliver moments to make you think or react. Rather, the darkness is tempered, the weirdness feels more playful, and danger is replaced by a more earnest sense of discovery. Part of this comes from a focus on a young protagonist as well as this rambunctious crew of titular time bandits, brought to life though endearing performances from David Rappaport, Kenny Baker, Malcom Dixon, Mike Edmonds, Jack Purvis, and Tiny Ross. Gilliam regulars such as Michael Palin (also serving as co-writer) and John Cleese add a healthy dose of British charm and quirkiness. Gravitas comes in the form of Sean Connery, Ralph Richardson, Ian Holm, Peter Vaughn, and a devilish turn from David Warner as Evil himself. Historical legends, characters toying with stereotypes (most notably Palin pairing with a wonderful Shelley Duval as a sexually repressed English couple), fabelistic figures, all offering opportunities for these bandits to get into trouble, or out of it. The adventure is tangible thanks to superb production design, realizing period eras, and also Gothic-tilted fantasy scenes, steampunk inspired props, practical effects, miniature design, and brilliant costume design. Time Bandits is a feast for the eyes, illuminated by the sterling work of cinematographer Peter Biziou. Gilliam’s direction showcases all the detail and depth of this work with aplomb, balancing epic fantasy with the experience and perspective of this young boy swept up in it all. From meeting heroes and villains, to thrilling action, and the surprisingly emotional weight and moral musings of the climax, Time Bandits is a whimsical and wonderful adventure through space and time.
The Package
Criterion offer up an all new new 4K restoration, one overseen by director Terry Gilliam. The transfer is pristine, showcasing a superb range and representation of colors, deep blacks, and crisp whites. Contrast, and the ensuing detail and density of image, is a standout. A consistently high quality transfer. The 4K version is also accompanied by a Blu-ray version of the same transfer on a disc that also contains associated extra features:
- Audio commentary featuring Gilliam, cowriter-actor Michael Palin, and actors John Cleese, David Warner, and Craig Warnock: Gilliam drives the commentary and offers plenty of info as to his thoughts and process in making the film, as well as the on set experience. The cuts to the other talent isn’t too smooth, but they offer an array of alternate perspectives and experiences, making for an overall compelling commentary
- Program on the creation of the film’s various historical periods and fantasy worlds, narrated by film writer David Morgan and featuring production designer Milly Burns and costume designer James Acheson: Building the worlds and looks of Time Bandits is a notable effort in itself, and this is a welcome featurette that devotes some time to the people behind these accomplishments, ranging from concept drawings, concept design, model making, and more
- Conversation between Gilliam and film scholar Peter von Bagh, recorded at the 1998 Midnight Sun Film Festival: The standout amongst the extras. Running around 80 minutes, this is a superb exchange that delves into the career and psyche of Gilliam, including his personal life, professional aspirations, influences on his filmmaking style, politics, conflicts with the industry and himself too
- Appearance by actor Shelley Duvall on Tom Snyder’s Tomorrow show from 1981: The actress largely talks about the film at hand, but she does open up the conversation to some of her earlier roles too, as well as spending some time championing the production talent on Time Bandits
- Gallery of rare photographs from the set:
- Trailer:
- PLUS: An essay by critic David Sterritt: Included in the liner booklet, which also details the restoration/transfer of this 4K version of the film
The Bottom Line
Time Bandits is a wonderful marriage of adventure and Gilliam’s trademark quirks and whimsy. A brilliant ensemble, superb production values, and a memorable tale, combine to magical effect. Criterion’s release offers up a pristine 4K transfer, and nice selection of extra features, that help celebrate one of Gilliam’s most enjoyable features.
Time Bandits 4K-UHD is available via Criterion now
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FANTASIA 2023: VINCENT MUST DIE is a Captivating Genre Bending Debut
Vincent Must Die, is the satirical French genre bender of a feature debut by Stéphan Castang which just screened at Fantasia and it’s a unique and morosely hilarious metaphor for the COVID epidemic. The film follows Vincent (Karim Leklou) a hapless graphic designer, who one day out of the blue is attacked by an intern at his job. A few days later it’s a colleague stabbing him with a pencil. The random attacks continue to escalate, until he retreats to his father’s villa in the country. At a gas station on his way he meets a man who he believes is homeless, but is stricken with the same plight. Here the film forks as one thread follows Vincent’s condition and how it’s not some isolated occurrence, and the other narrative follows Vincent’s romance with a local rural waitress at an American themed eatery, Margaux (Vimala Pons) – who didn’t immediately try to kill him, which is the beginning of most successful relationships.
Vincent Must Die uses the bizarre attacks that plague our protagonist to deconstruct and put a spotlight on the human condition and how it devolved during the pandemic. It’s something that is just beginning to bubble up as Vincent moves out of the city, where he struggles – like a lot of us did during the pandemic to figure out just what is going on. This thematic thread thoughtfully explores Vincent’s loneliness and that’s been caused due to his inability to leave his home or even make eye contact with another human out of fear of being attacked. The film then changes gears a bit in the third act, once Vincent’s condition begins to subside as it then spreads causing widespread chaos. As the worst case scenario envelopes the world around them, Vincent and Margaux then simply try to find the best in one another.
While the script lays out the general framework, it’s the performances here that really makes this narrative as engaging as it is allowing you to really connect to these characters. Karim Leklou does a rather impressive job at sort of juggling the more nuanced real life reaction a person would have if this really transpired, while still giving it that comedic flair you need to offset the rather graphic violence. It’s a performance filled with vulnerability, sadness, rage and ultimately love, that was impressive and couldn’t have been easy. His chemistry with Vimala Pons is palpable and the bittersweet nature of their relationship thankfully imbues this film with a heart, that is oddly more relatable than most.
Vincent Must Die is a sublime foray into several genres, that meticulously balances its more broad comedic strokes with its brooding and bittersweet love story at its core. The film thankfully strays away from the absurd, to tell a very human story of the lengths some will go to maintain a connection, even as the world burns around them. While the premise is enough to get you in the door, the romance locks you in thanks to the leads, who really tap into the sincerity of the characters given their situation. Hopefully a sign of things to come from director Stéphan Castang, Vincent Must Die is a superb debut that manages to take this still relevant metaphor and situation and infuse it with a very human story of connection, rather than getting lost in the whole post-apocalyptic of it all.
