The White Terror is one of the most fraught and controversial episodes in Taiwanese history, and the fact that it has been picked as the setting for Hong Kong-based Taiwanese director Yonfan’s (楊凡) lushly romantic period drama Prince of Tears (淚王子) is arguably in rather dubious taste, an offense the director aggravates with a glib sentimentality that can best be described as political terror as soap opera.
Putting aside this fundamental issue, which may well be sufficient to put some people off the film, it is only fair to say that the visual aesthetic is not uninteresting (relying heavily on supersaturated colors and airbrush effects that Taiwan’s wedding photographers are likely to appreciate), though so self-consciously artistic that it often loses touch with any sense of reality and at times verges on self-parody.
The story centers on Sun (Joseph Chang, 張孝全), a handsome and loyal Air Force officer who lives with his second wife Ping (Zhu Xuan, 朱璇) in what must be one of the neatest little veterans’ villages, or juan cun (眷村), ever to have been built. They have two daughters, one by his previous wife. A close family friend Ding (Wing Fan, 范植偉) has a bit of a yen for Ping, but spends most of the movie with a sour look and a Phantom of the Opera facial disfigurement that is so profoundly fake that one expects him to take it off at any time.
The idyllic life of Sun and his wife begins to unwind when they fall under suspicion of being Communist sympathizers. Sun is taken off and shot, while Ping secures her safety by marrying Ding, who is implicated in her husband’s death. In this harsh world, compromises need to be made.
Sun’s youngest daughter is close friends with the daughter of Madame Ou-Yang Liu (Terri Kwan, 關穎), a former girlfriend of Sun’s, and possibly a former lover of Ping’s. She is now married to a general, but has dark secrets hidden in her past. And this is just the tip of a very large and murky iceberg. It is remarkable that although Prince of Tears is supposedly based on, or at least inspired, by a real story, every transition seems contrived, and the emotional responses of the characters are often rather bewildering.
A narrated voiceover by the director keeps the plot on track, and also relieves the cast from the painful necessity of acting out the story. Ou-Yang looks an absolute dish in her lavish period costumes, and Joseph Chang is also likely to find an appreciative audience, but this is all pop idol glam-infused camera work without even a hint of depth.
Yonfan tries for a mood of tragedy, but what he ends up with is a sort of high camp period drama that cares more about recreating a mythology and wallowing in nostalgia than it does about looking at the past. In an interview quoted in the publicity materials, Yonfan said that he did not re-create the period. “I create with my memories of the past and make something that you have never seen before,” he said.
If that was his goal, then Prince of Tears may be accounted a success of sorts, but for the most part it is turgid stuff made worse by its artistic and historical pretensions. Some of the most interesting footage is the documentary material — recordings, film and photos — that plays at the opening of the film and accompanies the credits at the end. This at least seems to be about something more than Yonfan’s own fevered imaginings.
Taiwan’s semiconductor industry consumes electricity at rates that would strain most national grids. Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Co (TSMC) alone accounted for more than 9 percent, or 2,590 megawatts (MW), of the nation’s power demand last year. The factories that produce chips for the world’s phones and servers run around the clock. They cannot tolerate blackouts. Yet Taiwan imports 97 percent of its energy, with liquefied natural gas reserves measured in days. Underground, Taiwan has options. Studies from National Taiwan University estimate recoverable geothermal resources at more than 33,000 MW. Current installed capacity stands below 10 MW. OBSTACLES Despite Taiwan’s significant geothermal potential, the
In our discussions of tourism in Taiwan we often criticize the government’s addiction to promoting food and shopping, while ignoring Taiwan’s underdeveloped trekking and adventure travel opportunities. This discussion, however, is decidedly land-focused. When was the last time a port entered into it? Last week I encountered journalist and travel writer Cameron Dueck, who had sailed to Taiwan in 2023-24, and was full of tales. Like everyone who visits, he and his partner Fiona Ching loved our island nation and had nothing but wonderful experiences on land. But he had little positive to say about the way Taiwan has organized its
The entire Li Zhenxiu (李貞秀) saga has been an ugly, complicated mess. Born in China’s Hunan Province, she moved to work in Shenzhen, where she met her future Taiwanese husband. Most accounts have her arriving in Taiwan and marrying somewhere between 1993 and 1999. She built a successful career in Taiwan in the tech industry before founding her own company. She also served in high-ranking positions on various environmentally-focused tech associations. She says she was inspired by the founding of the Taiwan People’s Party (TPP) in 2019 by Ko Wen-je (柯文哲), and began volunteering for the party soon after. Ko
Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Chair Cheng Li-wun (鄭麗文) returned from her trip to meet People’s Republic of China (PRC) dictator Xi Jinping (習近平) bearing “a gift” for the people of Taiwan: 10 measures the PRC proposed to “facilitate the peaceful development of cross-strait relations.” “China on Sunday unveiled 10 new incentive measures for Taiwan,” wrote Reuters, wrongly. The PRC’s longstanding habit with Taiwan relations is to repackage already extant or once-existing policies and declare that they are “new.” The list forwarded by Cheng reflects that practice. NEW MEASURES? Note the first item: establishing regular communication mechanisms between the Chinese Communist Party
RSS