With the title, Mom Thinks I’m Crazy To Marry A Japanese Guy, it’s easy to write off this film as just another over-the-top, cutesy Taiwanese sap fest with a cross-cultural romantic twist. Those elements are all present, and the scenes are way too magical, but what makes the film work is that the main storyline between the two leads is very much rooted in reality, with believable characters, interactions and dialogue that will strike a chord with anyone who has attempted either long-distance or Internet dating.
It’s a true story after all, first made public through a Facebook fan page of the same name detailing the love story between Ihan (Jian Man-shu, 簡嫚書) and Mogi (Nakano Yuta), who met by chance through Facebook. The tale was later made into a book, upon which the movie is based.
Director Yachida Akihisa makes the wise decision in limiting the over-the-top shenanigans to the minor characters. Actually, it almost appears that outside of the leading couple and their friends, everyone is crazy, from Ihan’s loud-mouthed mother who is constantly bickering with her mahjong buddies to the Japanese dude who randomly shoots a rubber band gun at Mogi in a bar before offering him love advice. They are probably supposed to provide comic relief, but these types of characters are, by now, just tired stereotypes of Taiwanese cinema.
Photo courtesy of atmovies.com
Interestingly, both concepts featured in the movie title (the idea of marrying a Japanese and the tyrant mother who opposes the decision) don’t make too much of a difference in the film. The cultural barriers part is minimized by the fact that Ihan is proficient in Mogi’s language as a Japanese major in college and a self-professed lover of all things Japanese. One could see it as a missed opportunity to explore cultural differences between Taiwan and Japan — but hey, you have to stick with the script if it’s a true story. And even though Ihan’s mother vehemently opposes their relationship, Ihan is such an optimistic and headstrong character that there’s no stopping her. As a result, the expected “conflict” is virtually nonexistent.
Instead, the conflict revolves around misunderstandings through social media posts and online chatting, which the film presents in a very nuanced and realistic way, as the two characters continue to guess the underlying meanings behind what they see on screen because they can’t see each other in person.
Much of the plot is cleverly (albeit too cutely) presented through Facebook photos, videos, comments and messaging. The director even shows Mogi pausing in the middle of typing a sentence, wondering if he should finish his thought. There’s even a scene where they’re still communicating via Facebook while sitting next to each other. Don’t lie, you’ve probably done that too.
The awkward world of online communication is made more apparent especially because Mogi is no prince charming. He’s quiet and reserved, the type of guy who requires a bit of initiative from the woman if anything is to happen. While Ihan is the more outgoing one, she’s also unsure of their budding virtual attraction and what it all means. This creates a lot of tension that carries over to when they meet in person, such as their extremely clumsy first farewell. Afterward, they are shown wondering if they should have said more. It’s these moments that the audience can relate to, and this film would have been a complete dud if it depicted some grandiose, theatrical romance.
Somehow, this formula manages to keep the audience engaged to the point of tuning out the sappiness. Not bad for a film that tells an ordinary story with few twists and turns.
Japan is celebrated for its exceptional levels of customer service. But the behavior of a growing number of customers and clients leaves a lot to be desired. The rise of the abusive consumer has prompted authorities in Tokyo to introduce the country’s first ordinance — a locally approved regulation — to protect service industry staff from kasuhara — the Japanese abbreviated form of “customer harassment.” While the Tokyo ordinance, which will go into effect in April, does not carry penalties, experts hope the move will highlight a growing social problem and, perhaps, encourage people to think twice before taking out their frustrations
There is perhaps no better way to soak up the last of Taipei’s balmy evenings than dining al fresco at La Piada with a sundowner Aperol Spritz and a luxuriant plate of charcuterie. La Piada (義式薄餅) is the brainchild of Milano native William Di Nardo. Tucked into an unassuming apartment complex, fairy lights and wining diners lead the way to this charming slice of laid-back Mediterranean deli culture. Taipei is entirely saturated with Italian cuisine, but La Piada offers something otherwise unseen on the island. Piadina Romagnola: a northern Italian street food classic. These handheld flatbreads are stuffed with cold
Oct. 14 to Oct. 20 After working above ground for two years, Chang Kui (張桂) entered the Yamamoto coal mine for the first time, age 16. It was 1943, and because many men had joined the war effort, an increasing number of women went underground to take over the physically grueling and dangerous work. “As soon as the carts arrived, I climbed on for the sake of earning money; I didn’t even feel scared,” Chang tells her granddaughter Tai Po-fen (戴伯芬) in The last female miner: The story of Chang Kui (末代女礦工: 張桂故事), which can be found on the Frontline
In the tourism desert that is most of Changhua County, at least one place stands out as a remarkable exception: one of Taiwan’s earliest Han Chinese settlements, Lukang. Packed with temples and restored buildings showcasing different eras in Taiwan’s settlement history, the downtown area is best explored on foot. As you make your way through winding narrow alleys where even Taiwanese scooters seldom pass, you are sure to come across surprise after surprise. The old Taisugar railway station is a good jumping-off point for a walking tour of downtown Lukang. Though the interior is not open to the public, the exterior
RSS