With the title, Mom Thinks I’m Crazy To Marry A Japanese Guy, it’s easy to write off this film as just another over-the-top, cutesy Taiwanese sap fest with a cross-cultural romantic twist. Those elements are all present, and the scenes are way too magical, but what makes the film work is that the main storyline between the two leads is very much rooted in reality, with believable characters, interactions and dialogue that will strike a chord with anyone who has attempted either long-distance or Internet dating.
It’s a true story after all, first made public through a Facebook fan page of the same name detailing the love story between Ihan (Jian Man-shu, 簡嫚書) and Mogi (Nakano Yuta), who met by chance through Facebook. The tale was later made into a book, upon which the movie is based.
Director Yachida Akihisa makes the wise decision in limiting the over-the-top shenanigans to the minor characters. Actually, it almost appears that outside of the leading couple and their friends, everyone is crazy, from Ihan’s loud-mouthed mother who is constantly bickering with her mahjong buddies to the Japanese dude who randomly shoots a rubber band gun at Mogi in a bar before offering him love advice. They are probably supposed to provide comic relief, but these types of characters are, by now, just tired stereotypes of Taiwanese cinema.
Photo courtesy of atmovies.com
Interestingly, both concepts featured in the movie title (the idea of marrying a Japanese and the tyrant mother who opposes the decision) don’t make too much of a difference in the film. The cultural barriers part is minimized by the fact that Ihan is proficient in Mogi’s language as a Japanese major in college and a self-professed lover of all things Japanese. One could see it as a missed opportunity to explore cultural differences between Taiwan and Japan — but hey, you have to stick with the script if it’s a true story. And even though Ihan’s mother vehemently opposes their relationship, Ihan is such an optimistic and headstrong character that there’s no stopping her. As a result, the expected “conflict” is virtually nonexistent.
Instead, the conflict revolves around misunderstandings through social media posts and online chatting, which the film presents in a very nuanced and realistic way, as the two characters continue to guess the underlying meanings behind what they see on screen because they can’t see each other in person.
Much of the plot is cleverly (albeit too cutely) presented through Facebook photos, videos, comments and messaging. The director even shows Mogi pausing in the middle of typing a sentence, wondering if he should finish his thought. There’s even a scene where they’re still communicating via Facebook while sitting next to each other. Don’t lie, you’ve probably done that too.
The awkward world of online communication is made more apparent especially because Mogi is no prince charming. He’s quiet and reserved, the type of guy who requires a bit of initiative from the woman if anything is to happen. While Ihan is the more outgoing one, she’s also unsure of their budding virtual attraction and what it all means. This creates a lot of tension that carries over to when they meet in person, such as their extremely clumsy first farewell. Afterward, they are shown wondering if they should have said more. It’s these moments that the audience can relate to, and this film would have been a complete dud if it depicted some grandiose, theatrical romance.
Somehow, this formula manages to keep the audience engaged to the point of tuning out the sappiness. Not bad for a film that tells an ordinary story with few twists and turns.
The US war on Iran has illuminated the deep interdependence of Asia on flows of oil and related items as raw materials that become the basis of modern human civilization. Australians and New Zealanders had a wake up call. The crisis also emphasizes how the Philippines is a swatch of islands linked by jet fuel. These revelations have deep implications for an invasion of Taiwan. Much of the commentary on the Taiwan scenario has looked at the disruptions to world trade, which will be in the trillions. However, the Iran war offers additional specific lessons for a Taiwan scenario. An insightful
It’s only half the size of its more famous counterpart in Taipei, but the Botanical Garden of the National Museum of Nature Science (NMNS, 國立自然科學博物館植物園) is surely one of urban Taiwan’s most inviting green spaces. Covering 4.5 hectares immediately northeast of the government-run museum in Taichung’s North District (北區), the garden features more than 700 plant species, many of which are labeled in Chinese but not in English. Since its establishment in 1999, the site’s managers have done their best to replicate a number of native ecosystems, dividing the site into eight areas. The name of the Coral Atoll Zone might
Polling data often confirms what we expect, but sometimes it throws up surprises. When examined over time, some patterns appear that speak to something bigger going on. In this column, whenever possible, Formosa’s polls are used. Despite the sometimes cringeworthy antics of Formosa’s Chairman, Wu Tzu-Chia (吳子嘉), the data produced includes detailed breakdowns crucial for analysis. It has also been conducted monthly 11-12 times a year for many years with many of the same questions, allowing for analysis over time. When big shifts do occur between one month and the next it is usually in response to some event in
April 6 to April 13 Few expected a Japanese manga adaptation featuring four tall, long-haired heartthrobs and a plucky heroine to transform Taiwan’s television industry. But Meteor Garden (流星花園) took the nation by storm after premiering on April 12, 2001, single-handedly creating the “idol drama” (偶像劇) craze that captivated young viewers across Asia. The show was so successful that Japan produced its own remake in 2005, followed by South Korea, China and Thailand. Other channels quickly followed suit, with more than 50 such shows appearing over the following two years. Departing from the melodramatic