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WSWS : Arts
Review : Film
Reviews
Four films from Taiwan and China
By David Walsh
6 November 1995
Good Men, Good Womem: directed by Hou Hsiao-hsien;
Heartbreak Island: directed by Hsu Hsiao-ming; The Postman:
written and directed by He Nianjun; Lonely Hearts Club:
written and directed by Yee Chin-yen
In an oft-quoted remark reportedly made to a young Romanian
poet in a Zurich restaurant during World War I, Lenin is supposed
to have said, in part, "One can never be radical enough;
that is, one must always try to be as radical as reality itself."
Taiwan's Hou Hsiao-hsien, born in 1947 in Guangdong Province,
China, is one of the world's leading filmmakers. His own films
include A Time to Live and a Time to Die, A City of
Sadness and The Puppetmaster. Hou has also served as
producer on Edward Yang's Taipei Story, Zhang Yimou's Raise
the Red Lantern, Hsu Hsiao-ming's Dust of Angels and
Heartbreak Island, Wu Nien-jen's A Borrowed Life
and Chen Kuo-fu's Treasure Island.
Good Men, Good Women is a complicated film which demands
concentration and thought on the part of the spectator. It takes
place in three different time periods. In present-day Taiwan,
a distraught and depressed actress, Liang Ching (Annie Shizuka
Inoh), starts receiving pages of her stolen diary faxed to her
by an anonymous caller.
These bring back to her a period of time in the 1980s when
she worked as a bar hostess, hooked on drugs, and had an affair
with a small-time gangster. Following his murder, she accepted
a payoff from his killers, which she is still living on.
Liang, in the present, is rehearsing for a film. She will play
the part of Chiang Bi-yu, a member of the anti-Japanese resistance
in China and a left-wing activist in Taiwan in the late 1940s.
The story of Chiang Bi-yu (also Inoh) and her husband, Chung Hao-tung
(Lim Giong), who is eventually executed in the anticommunist terror
of the early 1950s, is the third strand of the film.
Hou contrasts the life-and-death struggles of the 1940s and
1950s with the efforts of Liang Ching to stay afloat in the 1990s.
He says his theme is to show what remains constant, "the
true color and energies of men and women." The spectator
may not draw the same conclusion, but the film brings two eras
and their particular problems to life.
The varying images in Good Men, Good Women are extraordinarily
distinct and beautiful because they are so purposeful. The film
is dedicated to "all the political victims of the '50s."
Where else today, except in Taiwan, are such films being made?
Heartbreak Island also involves political repression
in Taiwan and its consequences. Chen Lin-ling (Vicky Wei) is released
from prison after more than 10 years for her participation in
antigovernment terrorism. In a flashback, we see Lin-ling's teacher,
Wah Rong (King Jieh-wen), take her under his wing and introduce
her to political life. After his arrest, convinced that he faces
death in prison, Lin-ling turns to bomb-making. Freed from jail
more than a decade later, she discovers that her erstwhile comrades,
including Wah Rong, have become complacent petty bourgeois. Her
former lover, for example, owns a coffee shop which also serves
as a meeting place for students of New Age mysticism. Lin-ling
is driven to despair and madness.
Without a trace of sarcasm or misplaced irony, Hsu describes
with great acuteness the transformation of a generation. Many
of those involved in the real-life incident which forms the historical
basis for the film are now members of the bourgeois opposition
party, the DPP. The director commented in an interview: "I
tend to feel contemptuous of those who turned their back on their
own ideals."
The Postman is the second film by He Nianjun, a member
of Chinese filmmaking's "sixth generation." Born in
1960, He has worked in various capacities on films by Chen Kaige
( Farewell My Concubine) and Zhang Yimou. The Postman
is a devastating portrait of life in a shabby Beijing neighborhood
known as the "Happiness District." A damp grey and yellow
fog envelops the run-down housing blocks and their inhabitants.
Xian Dou (Fang Yuanzheng), a young postman, lives with his
sister in a shabby house, the only remaining link to their parents
who died when they were young. He is brought in to replace the
former postman who has confessed to stealing and reading letters.
A post office colleague plays guessing games about the mail as
she frenetically and relentlessly stamps the stack of daily mail.
Xian, emotionally cut off from the world, soon starts opening
and reading letters.
He becomes involved in the lives of the correspondents: a prostitute,
the family of a young suicide, a homosexual couple. At the same
time, his sister's marriage throws him into an emotional crisis
with shattering consequences.
Twice in the film he tells a simple story about being in a
peach orchard with his sister and being chased out. It is at once
enigmatic, dreamlike, terrifying. The second telling of the little
story, as a voiceover, over the image of his sister's traumatized
face, is unforgettable.
The film, perhaps the festival's finest, is a brutal account
of psychological damage produced by a repressive and stifling
social system. He Nianjun has now been banned from making films
by the Chinese authorities.
Lonely Hearts Club is the first feature film by Taiwan's
Yee Chin-yen. It lacks the intensity of the other three discussed
here, but it is a perceptive study of quiet desperation and boredom.
A woman in her forties, Chen (Pai Yueh-O), works at a dull job
in an office. Her marriage to an unfaithful husband seems loveless.
One day a new office boy, Lone (Hsieh Hsien-tang), appears. She
develops a crush on him. She doesn't know he is gay, a participant
in a bar scene which also proves chilly and unsatisfying.
Lone's theft of a wallet sets off a chain of events, involving
Chen as well, which leads to semicomic, semitragic consequences.
In the final analysis, all the efforts of the film's nine characters
to make contact with other people fail ignominiously.
Good Men, Good Women, Heartbreak Island and The Postman,
although quite different, share certain characteristics. They
each discuss with great frankness and honesty a devastating sequence
of events. While advancing an obvious anti-establishment view,
none of the directors shies away from the most painful or disturbing
revelations. The films contain precise imagery; sure, thoughtful
and convincing acting; a certain coolness, even serenity, in the
examination of the most terrible difficulties. The films proceed
slowly, quietly, rigorously, making no concession to the short
attention span of today's average moviegoer, conditioned by television
commercials and tabloid journalism.
These are films that at least attempt to begin with life and
not certain precepts about life. They don't exist in order to
enhance the images and reputations of their makers. Nor are they
swept along by the current wave of intellectual and social reaction.
Nor do they draw pretty pictures of this or that segment of the
population in accordance with the dictates of "radical"
politics.
It's a shame that very few people in North America and Europe
will ever see these works. They are, in this reviewer's opinion,
the closest thing at this point to films which are "as radical
as reality itself."
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