From the trailer, Heavy Craving focuses on an obese woman who falls in love with a fit and handsome man and struggles to lose weight amidst constant ridicule about their relationship. If that’s all that this film was, it would have been a disappointing and missed opportunity to tackle a serious problem that unhealthily and unrealistically champions attractiveness.
Tsai Jia-yin (蔡嘉茵) delivers an impressive performance in her full-length debut as Yingjuan, who weighs over 100kg and whose only joy is cooking and eating. The nuances of her performance as someone who just wants to be herself but is constantly criticized and made fun of by even her mother (Samantha Ko, 柯淑勤) is deserving of a best new performer award at the Taipei Film Awards. She has been nominated in the same category for this weekend’s Golden Horse Awards.
Fortunately, the romanticisms are understated and constitute just a part of the film, and our relentlessly cheerful and caring pretty boy, Wu (Yao Chang, 張耀仁), harbors a dark secret, hitting home the point that people shouldn’t be judged solely by their appearance. Throw in cross-dressing boy Xiaoyu (Chang En-wei, 張恩瑋), whose mother believes that his behavior is a disease that needs to be cured, and the tale becomes a well-balanced and thoughtful social commentary on being oneself and fitting social expectations.
Photo courtesy of atmovies.com
However, at times it feels too much like just a social commentary, as there is little character depth outside of Yingjuan, with the supporting characters serving as different perspectives to emphasize the movie’s message. For example, Ko’s talents are wasted here. All she does is relentlessly criticize her daughter. Other people are already doing that, and Ko’s role as a harsh mother who believes that she is doing Yingjuan good could have been fleshed out a little more.
That said, the arguments are carefully considered and spelled out — from the mean-spirited neighbor who openly states that fat people are disgusting to the fitness center that represents society’s norms to Yingjuan, who along with Wu are the only people who encourage Xiaoyu not to repress himself.
In one scene, the fitness center coach (William Hsieh, 謝祖武) exclaims: “We all know that it’s what’s inside that matters, but in today’s fast paced society, people don’t have time to look at what’s inside. Would you buy a deformed fruit at the supermarket when there’s a perfect one next to it?” When a woman suggests that deformed fruit costs less, the coach asks: “Would you want someone to choose you because you’re cheaper?”
Photo courtesy of atmovies.com
That’s the unforgiving reality we live in today, and the coach does have a point. Even the encouraging Wu tells Yingjuan: “It’s too hard to change society. Why not change ourselves?” But to what extent should people who are different suppress themselves or change just to fit social expectations?
It’s a hard question that doesn’t have a simple answer. But it is something that really should be examined, especially in Taiwan where headlines comment on the attractiveness of a politician regardless of her accomplishments and agenda, and Internet users are bombarded with content featuring “hot” McDonalds staff and policewomen.
One may feel that the constant criticism and ridicule toward Yingjuan by almost everyone she meets — even by random boys playing in the park — is exaggerated. Surely people should have the common sense not to say hurtful things within earshot of the target? While the movie is definitely dramatizing for effect, it’s sadly true to a certain extent. Making fun of someone’s appearance is quite normalized — from insensitive nicknames to innocuous jokes to the unsolicited “hey, you’ve gained weight, don’t eat so much.”
Yingjuan’s pain and suffering is clearly and poignantly portrayed in the movie to the point of self deprecation. When Wu tells her she’s the first girl who’s been in his car, she laughs and says: “Oh, I count as one?”
But the most upsetting character is her mother, who is just as harsh, if not harsher, as the others. As the movie illustrates, such behavior does not help and only frustrates the person into eating more as it is the only thing that makes them immediately feel better.
This part also reflects reality. The Taiwan Millenium Health Foundation in August reported that 56 percent of survey respondents indicated that their family members have made fun of their weight, with remarks ranging from “fat pig” to “how pregnant are you?” Some reported getting sneered at by family members every time they eat a snack.
Director Hsieh Pei-ju (謝沛如), who has also struggled with weight issues, should be lauded for tackling this important topic. It’s encouraging to see more mainstream Taiwanese movies addressing social issues that are often overlooked. Despite the movie’s character deficiencies, Hsieh managed to put together an entertaining ride, and that’s often the only way to get people to pay attention to serious issues.
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
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
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.