Taiwanese-Canadian director Frank Chen (陳惟揚) definitely took a gamble when he embarked on his four-year journey documenting baseball star Wang Chien-ming’s (王建民) comeback to the American major leagues.
Although Chen told reporters during a screening in Taipei that he had a backup scenario just in case Wang failed, it simply would not have been as gripping and heartwarming as the finished product that premiered in the US in October and will hit Taiwan box offices tomorrow.
His eventual success is vital to the narrative, especially when the film opens with Wang at the lowest point of his career, long removed from his halcyon days with the New York Yankees when he was an elite pitcher with a deadly sinker. Six years after injuries derailed his promising career, Wang is seen driving alone on a road trip, bouncing around the minor leagues looking for a second chance, but he even gets cut by the Southern Maryland Blue Claws, a team probably unfamiliar to even American viewers. At this point, Wang is 35 years old, much older than most of his competition, but he simply does not want to give up.
Photo courtesy of Activator Marketing Co
Tension builds as Chen juxtaposes scenes from Wang’s best days with his current situation, rekindling memories for those who had stopped paying attention to the “Pride of Taiwan,” or were wondering what happened to him. Actually, he’s never gone away nor quit. It’s a straightforward and polished documentary that has the essential elements of suspense, intrigue and plenty of tender footage of Wang and his family, especially his relationship with his two sons. The film paints a multi-dimensional picture of Wang as a human being and not just a baseball player, even though baseball is the only thing Wang has ever known and is what drives his entire existence.
Despite his accolades, Wang is a quiet and reserved character, which is why some of the sequences are monotonous. It wasn’t a surprise when it was revealed that he was reluctant to participate in the project, especially when his career wasn’t going the way he wanted it to. He’s a gentle giant, a likeable guy — as attested by the many testimonials of his family and colleagues in the film — but that does not make for exciting cinema, unfortunately, as the highs and lows in the movie mirror his personality. Kudos to Chen for staying true to the subject and not embellishing, but some of the editing in the middle of the film could be tighter to hasten the pace.
A sensitive and persistent storyteller is needed to draw out the inner layers of this kind of subject, and fortunately Chen seems to be that kind of director. Besides his baseball skills and height, Wang really doesn’t stand out, but through his sheer inner strength and intimate interactions with people in the film, one does get a good sense of who Wang is by the end. It’s definitely an inspiring tale, and will surely resonate a lot stronger with Taiwanese audiences who see him as a hero. In the US, he’s just another pretty good foreign player who didn’t last long.
Photo courtesy of Activator Marketing Co
Given this relative anonymity, one can’t help but wonder about the slick production and big-time cinema feel of the documentary, especially when it’s coming from a first-time director about a not-so-mainstream character from a country that many people have heard of but know little about. It turns out Chen had help. Fubon Financial Holding (富邦金控) helped finance the project, while the producer is Taiwanese-American actor Brian Yang, who starred in Hawaii Five-0 and produced the Jeremy Lin (林書豪) documentary, Linsanity.
These transnational partnerships are great for Taiwan as it puts the country on the map for Western audiences. Taiwan is clearly introduced in this film as “a country the size of Maryland and Delaware combined but with a population of 23 million.” Attach it to a poignant story like this — especially one that involves America’s national pastime on its own home turf — and it’s great publicity for Taiwan in a time when it’s most needed.
Photo courtesy of Activator Marketing Co
Beijing’s ironic, abusive tantrums aimed at Japan since Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi publicly stated that a Taiwan contingency would be an existential crisis for Japan, have revealed for all the world to see that the People’s Republic of China (PRC) lusts after Okinawa. We all owe Takaichi a debt of thanks for getting the PRC to make that public. The PRC and its netizens, taking their cue from the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), are presenting Okinawa by mirroring the claims about Taiwan. Official PRC propaganda organs began to wax lyrical about Okinawa’s “unsettled status” beginning last month. A Global
Taiwan’s democracy is at risk. Be very alarmed. This is not a drill. The current constitutional crisis progressed slowly, then suddenly. Political tensions, partisan hostility and emotions are all running high right when cool heads and calm negotiation are most needed. Oxford defines brinkmanship as: “The art or practice of pursuing a dangerous policy to the limits of safety before stopping, especially in politics.” It says the term comes from a quote from a 1956 Cold War interview with then-American Secretary of State John Foster Dulles, when he said: ‘The ability to get to the verge without getting into the war is
Dec. 22 to Dec. 28 About 200 years ago, a Taoist statue drifted down the Guizikeng River (貴子坑) and was retrieved by a resident of the Indigenous settlement of Kipatauw. Decades later, in the late 1800s, it’s said that a descendant of the original caretaker suddenly entered into a trance and identified the statue as a Wangye (Royal Lord) deity surnamed Chi (池府王爺). Lord Chi is widely revered across Taiwan for his healing powers, and following this revelation, some members of the Pan (潘) family began worshipping the deity. The century that followed was marked by repeated forced displacement and marginalization of
Music played in a wedding hall in western Japan as Yurina Noguchi, wearing a white gown and tiara, dabbed away tears, taking in the words of her husband-to-be: an AI-generated persona gazing out from a smartphone screen. “At first, Klaus was just someone to talk with, but we gradually became closer,” said the 32-year-old call center operator, referring to the artificial intelligence persona. “I started to have feelings for Klaus. We started dating and after a while he proposed to me. I accepted, and now we’re a couple.” Many in Japan, the birthplace of anime, have shown extreme devotion to fictional characters and