Much is left unsaid in Father to Son, but as relationships between fathers and sons go, especially in Asian culture where affection is not always openly expressed, how much can be explicit?
The storylines and relations seem complicated in this poignant, subtle drama as it follows a 60-year-old, still rather dashing Fan Pao-te (Michael Huang, 黃仲崑), who falls ill at the beginning of the film and tries to come to terms with mortality and closure, especially with his father, who abandoned the family when he was young to seek his fortune in Japan.
Fan and his son (Fu Meng-po, 傅孟柏) are the focus of the main plot, but the film also spotlights many other characters while flashing back throughout Fan’s childhood and young adulthood. The parallels among fathers and sons, especially the relationships — or lack thereof — are apparent and it’s clear that history repeats itself in this small southern town. But fate can also be changed.
Photo courtesy of atmovies.com
The cinematography is stunning, and director Hsiao Ya-chuan (蕭雅全) chooses his backdrops well. Although the story is set mostly on one street in a sleepy, nondescript town, it fully makes use of the notion of being stuck in time with an old hotel, a traditional laundry shop with a sign emblazoned with black and gold calligraphy and a Japanese era-style hospital with terrazzo floors and long, narrow hallways. Even the hostess club that Fan and his buddy frequent, the roadside stall where they drink or Fan’s hardware store are shot in a way that creates an air of the fantastic even though it’s clear that this is reality.
Is this 2018 or 1987? Although the flashbacks are made clear in black and white, sometimes it is hard to tell until someone whips out the latest model smartphone — and then things become blurred again as people are seen smoking in offices and restaurants when Fan visits Japan. Maybe it doesn’t matter, as some things simply don’t change no matter what the era.
Through Fan’s father, the story also stretches back to post-war Taiwan, depicting a society that still retains some of its old Japanese connections, and where people would prefer to head overseas to make it big than stay at home as a nobody.
Photo courtesy of atmovies.com
This is Hsiao’s third feature film since 2010’s Taipei Exchange (36個故事), continuing his poetic style of never directly tackling the subject but instead telling the story through delicate sentiments and subtle relationships. Although the film seems all over the place at the beginning, as the plot progresses, nothing is superfluous as there’s a whole backstory spanning many decades that slowly ties things together.
Although Fan chose a simple life as a hardware store owner and amateur inventor, he’s highly intelligent and deeply philosophical, making for a complex character that’s intriguing from the very beginning as he heads out to fix a friend’s electrical problem with his tools around his belt as if he were a cop heading to solve a crime.
His counterpart is his buddy A-kao (Long Shao-hua, 龍劭華), the carefree owner of a fruit store, who, although is not a major part of the film, does a brilliant job in providing chuckles and dragging Fan into his shenanigans. His elated expression when Fan, who had abstained from drinking since he fell ill, finally took a sip of beer, is priceless.
Fu also delivers a good performance as the son, and even though father and son do not seem to exchange many words, their affection and love for each other are clearly felt.
Hsiao is indeed deserving of best director at this year’s Taipei Film Awards, where the film also picked up best original score (Summer Lei, 雷光夏 and Chris Hou, 侯志堅) and best art direction. It’s a movie that’s meant to be felt and pondered upon, leaving the audience for much reflection long after the curtain draws.
Sept. 1 to Sept. 7 In 1899, Kozaburo Hirai became the first documented Japanese to wed a Taiwanese under colonial rule. The soldier was partly motivated by the government’s policy of assimilating the Taiwanese population through intermarriage. While his friends and family disapproved and even mocked him, the marriage endured. By 1930, when his story appeared in Tales of Virtuous Deeds in Taiwan, Hirai had settled in his wife’s rural Changhua hometown, farming the land and integrating into local society. Similarly, Aiko Fujii, who married into the prominent Wufeng Lin Family (霧峰林家) in 1927, quickly learned Hoklo (commonly known as Taiwanese) and
The low voter turnout for the referendum on Aug. 23 shows that many Taiwanese are apathetic about nuclear energy, but there are long-term energy stakes involved that the public needs to grasp Taiwan faces an energy trilemma: soaring AI-driven demand, pressure to cut carbon and reliance on fragile fuel imports. But the nuclear referendum on Aug. 23 showed how little this registered with voters, many of whom neither see the long game nor grasp the stakes. Volunteer referendum worker Vivian Chen (陳薇安) put it bluntly: “I’ve seen many people asking what they’re voting for when they arrive to vote. They cast their vote without even doing any research.” Imagine Taiwanese voters invited to a poker table. The bet looked simple — yes or no — yet most never showed. More than two-thirds of those
In the run-up to the referendum on re-opening Pingtung County’s Ma-anshan Nuclear Power Plant last month, the media inundated us with explainers. A favorite factoid of the international media, endlessly recycled, was that Taiwan has no energy reserves for a blockade, thus necessitating re-opening the nuclear plants. As presented by the Chinese-language CommonWealth Magazine, it runs: “According to the US Department of Commerce International Trade Administration, 97.73 percent of Taiwan’s energy is imported, and estimates are that Taiwan has only 11 days of reserves available in the event of a blockade.” This factoid is not an outright lie — that
The People’s Republic of China (PRC) yesterday paraded its military hardware in an effort to impress its own population, intimidate its enemies and rewrite history. As always, this was paced by a blizzard of articles and commentaries in the media, a reminder that Beijing’s lies must be accompanied by a bodyguard of lies. A typical example is this piece by Zheng Wang (汪錚) of Seton Hall in the Diplomat. “In Taiwan, 2025 also marks 80 years since the island’s return to China at the end of the war — a historical milestone largely omitted in official commemorations.” The reason for its
RSS