Billed as a sports drama based on the experiences of the real-life members of Hong Kong’s baseball team who play themselves in the film, City Without Baseball (無野之城) explores the little-known story of the official baseball team in a city where the game is virtually unheard-of. On the surface, it seems like a melodramatic sports movie. But a closer look shows it to be something altogether different.
Building up to the 2004 Asia Baseball Cup tournament in Pakistan, the film focuses on three characters: Coach Tai (John Tai, 戴于程), who arrives in Hong Kong from Taiwan to train the team for the big game; the team’s starting pitcher, Chung (Leung Yu-chung, 梁宇聰); and his not-so-popular teammate, Chun (Heung Tze-chun, 香子俊). Insecure about his position both in the team and in his relationships with women, Chun starts dating Mei Zhi (Lin Yuan, 林苑) after finding out that his girlfriend has cheated on him. Mei Zhi, however, becomes infatuated with Chung when she meets the macho pitcher. Chung, meanwhile, develops an interest in Kim (played by Monie Tung), who he almost accidentally runs over when she tries to commit suicide by getting in front of his car. And complicating matters considerably, Chun discovers that he has feelings for his teammate and rival Chung.
Amid the tension and excitement built around the matches in the tournament, Chun decides to profess his love to Chung.
Directed by novice Yun Xiang (雲翔), and Lawrence Lau (劉國昌), known for his films that explore youth-related issues in Hong Kong, City Without Baseball is notable for the absence of actual scenes involving the sport. Though there is footage of games and dramatic tension built around baseball-related activities, the film has more to do with relationships and identity issues, existential crises, homoeroticism and repressed sexuality. As the story unfolds, it focuses on revealing the protagonists’ backstories and inner reflections rather than following their drive to victory.
Overloaded with too many themes and subjects, City Without Baseball ends up being a hazy mishmash that is less than the sum of its parts. Background music seems to suggest nostalgia for the end of a better era but what that means is never made clear. And certain plotlines, such as the romance between the Taiwanese coach and a young Chinese woman, suffer a premature death.
Many moviegoers, however, will no doubt be delighted by the movie’s full-frontal nudity and scenes of athletes horsing around in the locker room and in the showers. In terms of storytelling, Scud’s script is solid and able to maintain the audience’s attention. And the baseball players themselves come across as natural and uninhibited actors with strong on-screen presences, despite their lack of formal training.
Every now and then, it’s nice to just point somewhere on a map and head out with no plan. In Taiwan, where convenience reigns, food options are plentiful and people are generally friendly and helpful, this type of trip is that much easier to pull off. One day last November, a spur-of-the-moment day hike in the hills of Chiayi County turned into a surprisingly memorable experience that impressed on me once again how fortunate we all are to call this island home. The scenery I walked through that day — a mix of forest and farms reaching up into the clouds
With one week left until election day, the drama is high in the race for the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) chair. The race is still potentially wide open between the three frontrunners. The most accurate poll is done by Apollo Survey & Research Co (艾普羅民調公司), which was conducted a week and a half ago with two-thirds of the respondents party members, who are the only ones eligible to vote. For details on the candidates, check the Oct. 4 edition of this column, “A look at the KMT chair candidates” on page 12. The popular frontrunner was 56-year-old Cheng Li-wun (鄭麗文)
“How China Threatens to Force Taiwan Into a Total Blackout” screamed a Wall Street Journal (WSJ) headline last week, yet another of the endless clickbait examples of the energy threat via blockade that doesn’t exist. Since the headline is recycled, I will recycle the rebuttal: once industrial power demand collapses (there’s a blockade so trade is gone, remember?) “a handful of shops and factories could run for months on coal and renewables, as Ko Yun-ling (柯昀伶) and Chao Chia-wei (趙家緯) pointed out in a piece at Taiwan Insight earlier this year.” Sadly, the existence of these facts will not stop the
Oct. 13 to Oct. 19 When ordered to resign from her teaching position in June 1928 due to her husband’s anti-colonial activities, Lin Shih-hao (林氏好) refused to back down. The next day, she still showed up at Tainan Second Preschool, where she was warned that she would be fired if she didn’t comply. Lin continued to ignore the orders and was eventually let go without severance — even losing her pay for that month. Rather than despairing, she found a non-government job and even joined her husband Lu Ping-ting’s (盧丙丁) non-violent resistance and labor rights movements. When the government’s 1931 crackdown
RSS