Last year was very distinctive for both director Jia Zhangke (
"That year, reality was more theatrical than most films," said Jia, talking about his Cannes competition film Unknown Pleasure (任逍遙).
PHOTO COURTESY OF JIA ZHANKE
In the film, these actual events serve as the background for the stories of three aimless young characters in the remote provincial town of Tatung. A reflection on China in the wake of modernization, the subject matter is nothing new to Chinese films. But Jia, 32, offers a fresh and distinctive style. Using his camera to poetically observe people and reveal their humanity, his three most acclaimed works have made his talent recognized internationally. Unknown Pleasure, which was produced by a Chinese-Japanese team with Japanese, French and Korean financing, was the only Chinese-language film competing at this year's Cannes Festival.
The film project began as a documentary shooting in Tatung, Shanxi Province, Jai said. "At first it was the bleak and lonely buildings that attracted me. When I saw the streets filled with lonely, directionless people, I became interested in them," Jia said at a press conference last week.
According to Jia, because of Beijing's one-child population control policy, "they have no brothers and sisters, and often feel lonely."
Unknown Pleasure, pronounced "ren xiao yao" in Mandarin, tells a tale of solitude. Jobless slackers Xiao Ji (Wu Qiong,
"I was born in 1970 at the end of the Cultural Revolution when China was beginning to develop. But for the new generation, the development is nothing new. A new way of living and new values are available and have been spread fast by the media. Yet for a lot of people, the change in living conditions has been much slower than national development. This expanding gap created a lot of pressure ... on these young people," Jia said.
Having had previous films screen at both the Berlin Film Festival, (Xiao Wu, 1997) and the Venice Film Festival, (Platform, 2000), Jia this time makes a step forward to Cannes, competing for the Palm d'Or. But his film style remains the same.
Unknown Pleasure relies more on images than plot. Jia and cinematographer Yu Lik-wai (
"I have a particular preference for long takes because it allows you to feel time in the film," Jia said. "Other Chinese directors ... have explored a lot in cinematography. And I feel that time has not been explored," he said. "I like to gaze at ordinary people. By gazing for a long time, you don't need to ask what they're doing, what they've been through, you can feel that time is sculpting this person," he added.
Jia's perspective and film style is reminiscent of Taiwanese filmmaker Hou Hsiao-hsien (
"It is true that the spirit of his films has inspired me a lot," Jia said. He said his favorite of Hou's film is All the Youthful Days (
Challenging the status quo always involves risk. None of Jia's films have been permitted to screen in China, although pirated VCDs of all of them are widely available. "I am waiting. Time will solve this problem," Jia said casually.
He shouldn't worry. With international credentials and a ticket to Cannes, Jia will find audiences in Japan, France, Korea and, of course, Taiwan.
Oct. 27 to Nov. 2 Over a breakfast of soymilk and fried dough costing less than NT$400, seven officials and engineers agreed on a NT$400 million plan — unaware that it would mark the beginning of Taiwan’s semiconductor empire. It was a cold February morning in 1974. Gathered at the unassuming shop were Economics minister Sun Yun-hsuan (孫運璿), director-general of Transportation and Communications Kao Yu-shu (高玉樹), Industrial Technology Research Institute (ITRI) president Wang Chao-chen (王兆振), Telecommunications Laboratories director Kang Pao-huang (康寶煌), Executive Yuan secretary-general Fei Hua (費驊), director-general of Telecommunications Fang Hsien-chi (方賢齊) and Radio Corporation of America (RCA) Laboratories director Pan
The consensus on the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) chair race is that Cheng Li-wun (鄭麗文) ran a populist, ideological back-to-basics campaign and soundly defeated former Taipei mayor Hau Lung-bin (郝龍斌), the candidate backed by the big institutional players. Cheng tapped into a wave of popular enthusiasm within the KMT, while the institutional players’ get-out-the-vote abilities fell flat, suggesting their power has weakened significantly. Yet, a closer look at the race paints a more complicated picture, raising questions about some analysts’ conclusions, including my own. TURNOUT Here is a surprising statistic: Turnout was 130,678, or 39.46 percent of the 331,145 eligible party
The classic warmth of a good old-fashioned izakaya beckons you in, all cozy nooks and dark wood finishes, as tables order a third round and waiters sling tapas-sized bites and assorted — sometimes unidentifiable — skewered meats. But there’s a romantic hush about this Ximending (西門町) hotspot, with cocktails savored, plating elegant and never rushed and daters and diners lit by candlelight and chandelier. Each chair is mismatched and the assorted tables appear to be the fanciest picks from a nearby flea market. A naked sewing mannequin stands in a dimly lit corner, adorned with antique mirrors and draped foliage
President William Lai (賴清德) has championed Taiwan as an “AI Island” — an artificial intelligence (AI) hub powering the global tech economy. But without major shifts in talent, funding and strategic direction, this vision risks becoming a static fortress: indispensable, yet immobile and vulnerable. It’s time to reframe Taiwan’s ambition. Time to move from a resource-rich AI island to an AI Armada. Why change metaphors? Because choosing the right metaphor shapes both understanding and strategy. The “AI Island” frames our national ambition as a static fortress that, while valuable, is still vulnerable and reactive. Shifting our metaphor to an “AI Armada”