The plot intrigues and the jokes abound, but the best part of Mom, Don’t Do That (媽別鬧了), currently available on Netflix, is the realistic portrayal of the relationship between the three main characters: mother Wang Mei-mei (Billie Wang, 比莉) and her two daughters: Chen Ru-rong (Alyssa Chia, 賈靜雯) and Chen Ruo-ming (Ko Chia-yen, 柯佳嬿).
Taiwanese culture permeates the show, playing off common cultural themes such as family pressure to marry by a certain age.
Dirty jokes abound, using slang that the English subtitles can’t fully convey. “Frying rice” as a euphemism for sex had to be explained to me by my mom, who grew up watching these famous actresses in serious romantic dramas.
Photo courtesy of Netflix
The series revolves around Mei-mei’s international quest to remarry — and her constant criticisms of her daughters for not being able to find a husband. Her daughters, meanwhile, chide her for many questionable decisions while on the hunt for a man.
It’s a familiar way for Taiwanese families to express their love: nagging, wanting a loved one to be better and to have the best.
Their jabs are savage, expecting the target to fight back with exaggerated confidence. But the one time Mei-mei doesn’t retort, Ru-rong knows something is wrong.
Photo: Deanna Durben
Humor coats everything from serious topics, like a cheating boyfriend, to glitzy high school reunion antics (the only sideplot in the show that I disliked, a quickly resolved confrontation with a blatant moral angle).
Mei-mei’s ability to compulsively throw herself into new situations, as well as laugh at herself when she fails, is a central message of the show.
“Getting scammed is just getting scammed. You get thick skin as you get old, just cry and laugh it off,” she says when Ru-rong worries for her emotional state.
Photo courtesy of Mom Don’t Do That Facebook page
Fall in love — but not blindly, the show demonstrates through the interweaving storylines and conversations.
Mei-mei is not afraid to walk away when her boundaries are crossed. She is dating to marry, and won’t waste time with someone who doesn’t value her, although her habit of jumping to conclusions results in a few misunderstandings.
Younger daughter Ruo-ming’s reluctance to abandon a cheating boyfriend who leeches off her is portrayed with sympathy.
Similarly, Ru-rong’s reluctance to date is a great storyline, and her various reasons for staying single, whether borne out of fear or career commitment, are explored throughout the series. It is significant that her ending wasn’t treated as a failure.
“‘I love you’ has two meanings,” Ru-rong posits. “One means I want you to make sacrifices, the other means I’ll sacrifice for you. Unless you’re sure which one they mean, never reply ‘I love you too!’”
Great advice is nestled among the crazier storylines. Her fantastical romance subplot was both cheesy and entertaining.
Each nuanced character goes through their own journey, as the three women figure out how to move on with their lives while still remembering their deceased family patriarch. Mei-mei whirls through a seemingly crazy romance, while her daughters slowly realize who they are and what they actually need.
It’s not a happy ever after tale, but it feels real. This warm-hearted comedy is definitely worth a watch.
Every now and then, it’s nice to just point somewhere on a map and head out with no plan. In Taiwan, where convenience reigns, food options are plentiful and people are generally friendly and helpful, this type of trip is that much easier to pull off. One day last November, a spur-of-the-moment day hike in the hills of Chiayi County turned into a surprisingly memorable experience that impressed on me once again how fortunate we all are to call this island home. The scenery I walked through that day — a mix of forest and farms reaching up into the clouds
With one week left until election day, the drama is high in the race for the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) chair. The race is still potentially wide open between the three frontrunners. The most accurate poll is done by Apollo Survey & Research Co (艾普羅民調公司), which was conducted a week and a half ago with two-thirds of the respondents party members, who are the only ones eligible to vote. For details on the candidates, check the Oct. 4 edition of this column, “A look at the KMT chair candidates” on page 12. The popular frontrunner was 56-year-old Cheng Li-wun (鄭麗文)
“How China Threatens to Force Taiwan Into a Total Blackout” screamed a Wall Street Journal (WSJ) headline last week, yet another of the endless clickbait examples of the energy threat via blockade that doesn’t exist. Since the headline is recycled, I will recycle the rebuttal: once industrial power demand collapses (there’s a blockade so trade is gone, remember?) “a handful of shops and factories could run for months on coal and renewables, as Ko Yun-ling (柯昀伶) and Chao Chia-wei (趙家緯) pointed out in a piece at Taiwan Insight earlier this year.” Sadly, the existence of these facts will not stop the
Oct. 13 to Oct. 19 When ordered to resign from her teaching position in June 1928 due to her husband’s anti-colonial activities, Lin Shih-hao (林氏好) refused to back down. The next day, she still showed up at Tainan Second Preschool, where she was warned that she would be fired if she didn’t comply. Lin continued to ignore the orders and was eventually let go without severance — even losing her pay for that month. Rather than despairing, she found a non-government job and even joined her husband Lu Ping-ting’s (盧丙丁) non-violent resistance and labor rights movements. When the government’s 1931 crackdown