After changing tack to produce such Chinese blockbusters as Assembly (集結號) and If You Are the One (非誠勿擾), Taiwan’s Chen Kuo-fu (陳國富) returns to the director’s chair and shares it with China’s Gao Qunshu (高群書) for The Message (風聲). Adapted from Chinese writer Mai Jia’s (麥家) novel of the same title, this big-budget blockbuster is an espionage thriller set during the Sino-Japanese war in the early 1940s.
Among the slew of films made in time for the 60 anniversary of the founding of the People’s Republic of China — including City of Life and Death (南京！南京！) and The Founding of a Republic (建國大業) — The Message is a well-crafted genre flick that’s more interested in entertaining its audiences than whipping up anti-Japanese sentiment or heavy-handed propagandizing.
It is 1942 Nanjing, where the invading Japanese have set up a Chinese puppet government. After a series of assassination attempts, it becomes clear that there is a double agent in the regime’s intelligence unit who is working for the resistance.
To capture the mole, codenamed the Phantom, ambitious Japanese officer Takeda (Huang Xiaoming, 黃曉明) sends a fake message through the regime’s intelligence office, which he knows will be leaked to the resistance. The officials who handle the encoded message are then rounded up and transported to an isolated mansion in the mountains to be tortured and interrogated.
The five suspects are expert code-breaker Li (Li Bingbing, 李冰冰), sassy stenographer Gu (Zhou Xun, 周迅), tough military intelligence chief Wu (Zhang Hanyu, 張涵予), portly “councilor” Jin (Chinese comedian Ying Da, 英達) and the flamboyant “officer” Bai (Taiwan’s Alec Su, 蘇有朋).
Over the next five days, Takeda and his underlings do their best to crush the quintet, both physically and mentally, to find out who is the snitch. The five soon realize that the only way for them to survive is to turn on each other.
Set mostly in the European-style mansion, The Message is a contemporary variation of the locked-room mystery in which the audience is presented with clues and encouraged to solve the puzzle as the suspects quarrel and scheme against each other. Smartly written by Chen, who directed the 2002 thriller Double Vision (雙瞳), the story line may feel somewhat unrealistic at times, but the film is essentially a well-executed piece of entertainment that keeps the drama moving at a snappy pace and is anchored by solid performances.
The Message owes much of its enchanting 1940s mien to the impeccable art and costume design of Tim Yip (葉錦添). Taiwan-based Jake Pollock, whose previous works include Respire (呼吸), Do Over (一年之初) and Yang Yang (陽陽), makes his China debut with lush cinematography dotted with swooping aerial camerawork and sweeping crane shots that deliver a restless energy.
Embellished by showy CGI effects such as a telegram’s electric charge pulsing through cables, the movie glares with visual opulence. The mansion is never framed without swirling shots and fluttering camerawork, making it reminiscent of the haunted castle in Dracula movies.
The Message provides a grand stage for its stellar cast. Zhou effortlessly carries the dramatic weight through the movie with a distinct charm that hints at inner depth. Li draws viewers into her agitated state of mind with an aura of delicacy and quietness. Taiwan’s Su makes the transition from soap opera star to serious actor, delivering an enjoyable, campy version of Leslie Cheung’s (張國榮) memorable role in Farewell My Concubine (霸王別姬). However, as a gay man whose main function is to provide comic relief, Su’s character must die a horrible death. It’s an unfortunate example of the reproduction and exploitation of stereotypes that has always plagued mainstream cinema, one that contrasts with the film’s efforts to portray the Japanese villains as actual human beings.
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
Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Chairman Eric Chu (朱立倫) hatched a bold plan to charge forward and seize the initiative when he held a protest in front of the Taipei City Prosecutors’ Office. Though risky, because illegal, its success would help tackle at least six problems facing both himself and the KMT. What he did not see coming was Taipei Mayor Chiang Wan-an (將萬安) tripping him up out of the gate. In spite of Chu being the most consequential and successful KMT chairman since the early 2010s — arguably saving the party from financial ruin and restoring its electoral viability —
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,
RSS