Giant nightmare-eating tapirs and other magical elements save this otherwise melancholy and sentimental drama about a little boy dealing with the loss of his father, stopping it from propelling viewers into depression and heartbreak.
The rather conventional premise of Hello! Tapir (嗨!神獸) is designed to bring tears to the viewers’ eyes, but the layers of fantasy — and earnest, hilarious acting from the kids — keep it fresh and wondrous despite the tragic situation. It’s a fitting treatment that feels natural, though, and not just a superficial coating to cash in on the Malayan tapir’s popularity in Taiwan. The special effects are smooth and convincing, seamlessly blending into the picturesque fishing village where the film is set, and earning it a nomination for 2020’s Golden Horse Awards.
Although tapirs only exist in zoos in Taiwan, and while director Kethsvin Chee (池家慶) hails from the animal’s endemic Malaysia, the connection isn’t apparent in the film. In fact, protagonist Keat (Bai Run-yin, 白潤音) simply refers to them as “mythical beasts” (神獸) in Mandarin (although the English subtitles call them tapirs), described by his fisherman father Sheng (Lee Lee-zen, 李李仁) as having the “body of a pig, trunk of an elephant, ears of a horse and legs of a rhinoceros.” When everyone is asleep at night, the beast enters the village and gobbles up everyone’s nightmares, Sheng tells Keat.
Photo courtesy of Applause Entertainment
The chimeric depiction is reminiscent of the legendary Chinese creature mo (貘), which only became known as a devourer of bad dreams after the myth spread to Japan. Due to a 19th-century translation error, however, mo became the Mandarin name for the tapir.
Keat is upset that his busy father has repeatedly reneged on his promises to take him to the forest to find the beasts. Sheng promises Keat once more before heading out to sea — but fails to come home after an accident. Keat and his wholesome pals Bean (Chen Ching-fu, 陳京甫) and Peanut (Lin Yu-chuan, 林佑銓) don’t fully comprehend what’s going on as the distressed adults keep them in the dark. Instead they embark on night expeditions into the magical forest to find the tapirs so that they can end their real-life nightmare and bring Sheng home.
This surrealistic turn is an effective and poignant way to portray how a child may grapple with grief and loss. Keat only knows that something bad has happened and tries in his own way to fix the situation, even getting angry when the adults act like Sheng isn’t coming back. The kids are innocent and likable, and their unintentionally funny dialogue provides appropriate comedic relief to the tragedy. Bai’s nuanced portrayal of an introspective yet strong-willed child who is both innocent and somehow wise beyond his years marks yet another strong showing after 2020’s Dear Tenant (親愛的房客), in which he has also lost his father.
Photo courtesy of Applause Entertainment
The scenes that feature grown-ups such as Keat’s grief-stricken grandma (Lu Hsueh-feng, 呂雪鳳) and mother (Charlie Young, 楊采妮) often veer into melodrama. They also serve as a lesson in not underestimating how much a child may understand. “In this world, everything disappears eventually,” Keat recalls the words of his father in one scene as he watches bioluminescent mushrooms release spores that light up the night sky and then fade away.
An interesting touch is that many of these “nightmares” are based on real-world incidents such as schoolyard bullying and domestic violence, complete with a Taiwanese television news reporter narrating the scenes before the tapir eats them. There’s also a brief scene of Southeast Asian migrant workers in a fishing boat singing a popular Malaysian song about longing for one’s love, but this element isn’t explored further. Perhaps it’s just another nod to Chee’s homeland.
The film is deeply personal for Chee, who also grew up in a fishing town and struggled to find closure after his father suddenly died from dengue fever in 2015. His inspiration for Keat’s character came from his eight-year-old cousin, who asked during the funeral arrangements: “Is uncle coming back?”
The 87-minute production flows pretty well, and although a little more is desired as far as story development — especially the ending — Chee’s directorial debut is a solid, empathetic commercial effort that’s just hard to dislike.
There was a time when Chinese master Yuan Shimao thought martial arts were all about punching and kicking. As a young practitioner, he focused on speed and strength. “I trained that way for many years without becoming still enough to search within myself,” said Yuan, who founded a kung fu academy in central China in 2004. “But as you gradually settle into stillness, you begin to understand what the scriptures mean by spirit,” he added. “You can begin to rediscover yourself.” That process is known as “entering the Dao” in martial arts. It is a guiding principle at Yuan’s academy in the sacred
There was a time, a few decades ago, when the men who owned the world’s biggest pornography businesses were happy to be famous. They paraded a lifestyle they hoped looked glamorous, appearing in public dressed in silk pajamas or with a woman in swimwear on each arm. Porn moguls like Hustler’s Larry Flynt or Playboy’s Hugh Hefner were household names. “Say what you want about these old perverts, who once set the tone of our sexual culture, but at least you knew who they were and what they were selling,” Patricia Nilsson writes in her new book, Guilty Pleasure: The Pornification
As skyscrapers claw at the sky across the nation’s major cities, urban renewal efforts continue. Planners face a daunting environment. Nearly 60 percent of the housing stock is over 30 years of age, with Penghu, Yunlin and Chiayi counties exhibiting the highest average building ages, all over 40 years. In Taipei, 673,000 residences — over 70 percent of all homes — are over 30 years old, with an average age of 39.1 years. Taiwan’s shining office towers conceal a world of aging homes badly in need of replacement. Rising housing prices are killing more than just the future of Taiwan’s young.
Oct. 12 to Oct. 18 After 11 years in prison on Green Island, Yen Shih-hung (顏世鴻) was finally due for release when a camp guard asked him for NT$20,000 to help pay his bride price. Yen refused. The next day, officials deemed that he had “failed to improve his thinking” and ordered him to undergo further political reeducation on Siaoliouciou (小琉球), where prisoners were also subjected to forced labor. He spent another 19 months there before regaining his freedom in January 1964. Yen’s punishment stemmed from his joining the Taiwan Provincial Student Affairs Committee
RSS