It's difficult to catch the vicissitudes of youth in images. But this was the task of director Hou Hsiao-hsien (
The first installment of Millennium Mambo was Hou's much-anticipated entry at this year's Cannes Film Festival, running in competition for the Golden Palm.
PHOTO: REUTERS
And for many who attended the press screening of the film, Hou's images may take a little getting used to. Compared to his previous works, this movie has less long-takes, more close-ups and the camera moves more often. The colors are abrasive neons, textured with the smoke and flashes of techno pubs. And the picture is filled with frenetic electronic music.
This is a drastic shift from Hou's slow-paced, nostalgic takes on Taiwan in his previous films. Instead, Hou's new focus is on the messy reality of young people's lives, strained relationships and drug culture.
"My ultimate concern is always about people and their lives. A few years ago I became associated with a group of young people and we hung out a lot. I began to want to record their lives. I decided not to do films of the past anymore. Making a film about reality is a new challenge for me," said Hou, reflecting on the inspiration for Millennium Mambo.
What intrigued Hou was the "light," floating nature of the lives of today's youth. "By saying light I mean their lives and personalities have only a very slim attachment to the larger social and historical environment."
Preliminary research for the film entailed Hou and his actors -- Shu Qi (
Millennium Mambo begins with a long, moving shot of leading actress Shu Qi walking through a long, tunnel-like overpass, with her voice-over recounting the story of her life over the past 10 years -- the story of Vicky. Vicky is a Keelung girl who has come to Taipei in search of excitement but finds herself stuck in a rut making her living as a bar hostess and with a neurotic boyfriend named Hao-hao (
Perhaps because Hou's reputation in Europe was primarily built on his combination of poetics and realism in dealing with sweeping social and historical issues, Millennium Mambo seems to have caught the Cannes audience off guard. To many people's surprise, there was little applause at the end of yesterday's press screening.
"The film is more about an atmosphere, the fleeting feelings that you may lose at any moment. Looking at these young people's lives is like looking at leaves falling rapidly from a tree. You have to focus on one leaf, really watch it fall, then it might fall more slowly because of your gaze," Hou said.
Millennium Mambo, then, is a slice-of-life story focused on the reality of one girl's troubled existence.
Given Hou's distance in age from his characters and his confessed inability to tap into the tempo of life of today's young people, the director was forced to make adjustments to the film. "I set the film 10 years from now, in 2010 to create a sense of distance from which to look at Vicky. It's like a memory, you visualize what you remember the most," he said.
An obvious authorial imposition is the role of Jack, whom Hou admits is modeled after himself. Jack hangs out with these wayward youth and takes care of them when they encounter trouble. At the same time, he seems to hesitate to interfere and express his affection for Vicky.
"I often feel I'm Jack in the film. I look at these young people, they are so beautiful and young, and I really wanted to get closer to their lives," Hou said. "They treated me like their big brother, like a leader. We hung out and had good time. My role was to deal with their troubles, and sometimes preach to them. But I always felt I couldn't fully be involved with them," he said.
Hou described himself as a filmmaker with a humanistic outlook and a sense of responsibility toward people's lives. Before, he said, his films were intended as a history of Taiwan's folk life. Now, his films are meant to record contemporary people's lives.
"I'm going to make six films for these younger people over the next 10 years. And I'll edit the films into dozens of documentaries. These will be my own recollection of their lives."
In the March 9 edition of the Taipei Times a piece by Ninon Godefroy ran with the headine “The quiet, gentle rhythm of Taiwan.” It started with the line “Taiwan is a small, humble place. There is no Eiffel Tower, no pyramids — no singular attraction that draws the world’s attention.” I laughed out loud at that. This was out of no disrespect for the author or the piece, which made some interesting analogies and good points about how both Din Tai Fung’s and Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Co’s (TSMC, 台積電) meticulous attention to detail and quality are not quite up to
April 21 to April 27 Hsieh Er’s (謝娥) political fortunes were rising fast after she got out of jail and joined the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) in December 1945. Not only did she hold key positions in various committees, she was elected the only woman on the Taipei City Council and headed to Nanjing in 1946 as the sole Taiwanese female representative to the National Constituent Assembly. With the support of first lady Soong May-ling (宋美齡), she started the Taipei Women’s Association and Taiwan Provincial Women’s Association, where she
It is one of the more remarkable facts of Taiwan history that it was never occupied or claimed by any of the numerous kingdoms of southern China — Han or otherwise — that lay just across the water from it. None of their brilliant ministers ever discovered that Taiwan was a “core interest” of the state whose annexation was “inevitable.” As Paul Kua notes in an excellent monograph laying out how the Portuguese gave Taiwan the name “Formosa,” the first Europeans to express an interest in occupying Taiwan were the Spanish. Tonio Andrade in his seminal work, How Taiwan Became Chinese,
Mongolian influencer Anudari Daarya looks effortlessly glamorous and carefree in her social media posts — but the classically trained pianist’s road to acceptance as a transgender artist has been anything but easy. She is one of a growing number of Mongolian LGBTQ youth challenging stereotypes and fighting for acceptance through media representation in the socially conservative country. LGBTQ Mongolians often hide their identities from their employers and colleagues for fear of discrimination, with a survey by the non-profit LGBT Centre Mongolia showing that only 20 percent of people felt comfortable coming out at work. Daarya, 25, said she has faced discrimination since she