From The Pain of Others (海巡尖兵, 2005) to Winds Of September (九降風, 2008), Tom Lin Shu-yu (林書宇) excels at drawing inspiration from personal experiences. With Zinnia Flower (百日告別), the director gets especially personal by using his latest film to deal with his grief over the 2012 death of his wife.
The film eschews elegiac cliches, but doesn’t evade pain and heartache. It tugs at the heartstrings with honesty, tenderness and intimacy. Karena Lam (林嘉欣) and Shih Chin-hang (石錦航), the film’s two leads, deliver heartfelt performances.
The film opens with a devastating car crash. Wei, played by Shih, loses his pregnant wife (Alice Ko, 柯佳嬿). Ming, played by Lam, loses her fiance (Umin Boya, 馬志翔).
Photo courtesy of Atom Cinema
Overwhelmed by grief, Wei drinks heavily and takes his anger out on everyone around him. The quiet and introverted Ming embarks on a trip to Okinawa that she had planned to take with her fiance, but it does nothing to alleviate her pain and emptiness.
Ming and Wei meet each other at a Buddhist ritual where the bereaved mourn the dead for 100 days. The film ends on the 100th day after the last ceremony is completed.
Zinnia Flower adresses themes oft-ignored by Taiwanese movies, which mostly stay on the light, fun and emotionally frivolous side. Yet, the story is not all tears, as the characters come to realize that they are not alone in their suffering. Lam and Shih give nuanced performances, while Shih in particular shows that he is more than the talented lead guitarist Stone (石頭) from pop-rock band Mayday (五月天).
One disappointing thing about Zinnia Flower, though, is that it is missing the sex scene between Ming’s character and her fiance’s younger brother, played by Chang Shu-hao (張書豪). The 20-second long sequence elicited much controversy when the film premiered at the Taipei Film Festival (台北電影節) in July, and was consequently cut by Lin.
Lin reportedly says the removal of the scene doesn’t affect the story, but to this reviewer, who saw the version screened at the festival, those moments of intimacy offer a deeply moving moment of despair and a desperate longing to connect.
If one asks Taiwanese why house prices are so high or why the nation is so built up or why certain policies cannot be carried out, one common answer is that “Taiwan is too small.” This is actually true, though not in the way people think. The National Property Administration (NPA), responsible for tracking and managing the government’s real estate assets, maintains statistics on how much land the government owns. As of the end of last year, land for official use constituted 293,655 hectares, for public use 1,732,513 hectares, for non-public use 216,972 hectares and for state enterprises 34 hectares, yielding
The small platform at Duoliang Train Station in Taitung County’s Taimali Township (太麻里) served villagers from 1992 to 2006, but was eventually shut down due to lack of use. Just 10 years later, the abandoned train station had become widely known as the most beautiful station in Taiwan, and visitors were so frequent that the village had to start restricting traffic. Nowadays, Duoliang Village (多良) is known as a bit of a tourist trap, with a mandatory, albeit modest, admission fee of NT$10 giving access to a crowded lane of vendors with a mediocre view of the ocean and the trains
Traditionally, indigenous people in Taiwan’s mountains practice swidden cultivation, or “slash and burn” agriculture, a practice common in human history. According to a 2016 research article in the International Journal of Environmental Sustainability, among the Atayal people, this began with a search for suitable forested slopeland. The trees are burnt for fertilizer and the land cleared of stones. The stones and wood are then piled up to make fences, while both dead and standing trees are retained on the plot. The fences are used to grow climbing crops like squash and beans. The plot itself supports farming for three years.
For many people, Bilingual Nation 2030 begins and ends in the classroom. Since the policy was launched in 2018, the debate has centered on students, teachers and the pressure placed on schools. Yet the policy was never solely about English education. The government’s official plan also calls for bilingualization in Taiwan’s government services, laws and regulations, and living environment. The goal is to make Taiwan more inclusive and accessible to international enterprises and talent and better prepared for global economic and trade conditions. After eight years, that grand vision is due for a pulse check. RULES THAT CAN BE READ For Harper Chen (陳虹宇), an adviser