Despite the stunning mountainscapes that turn white in the winter, life in the remote indigenous Atayal village of Pyanan (南山) is far from idyllic — especially for Hayung’s family.
Employing mostly amateur actors, this candid drama by Atayal director Laha Mebow follows the daily lives of a three-generational household, who among other issues, are dealing with the loss of family land to their neighbors, an unplanned pregnancy and the death of the eponymous patriarch.
The well-respected Hayung laments aloud after the verdict comes down on the land: “Is there no more gaga in this village?” It’s true that gaga, a traditional system of morals and conduct, is fading along with the community’s language and culture. Instead, his eldest son Pasang (Wilang Lalin) runs for township chief to save the land, investing what’s left of the family’s limited resources to fund the campaign.
Photo courtesy of Sky Films Entertainment
The conflict between indigenous traditions and modern, mainstream society is a central theme in the movie, but the emotional, human drama that ensues as the family struggles to deal with their circumstances is what drives the plot. The cultural differences are obvious but not overstated or exoticized, it’s just part of this particular backdrop for a scenario that could happen in any Taiwanese village.
There’s no need to preach. In fact, gaga isn’t even defined in the film. But viewers will definitely understand through the dialogue and events the essence of what it represents to the Atayal.
The cultural contrasts manifest differently in each character, starting from the stern but loving grandmother (Kagaw Piling) who is rooted in the old ways yet unconditionally supports her sons’ decisions. Retired soldier Pasang works as a cultural tour guide for the village, and despite the family’s finances his 20-year-old daughter Ali is still able to go for an extended working holiday in New Zealand.
Photo courtesy of Sky Films Entertainment
Although there’s still much Atayal spoken in the household, use of it clearly decreases by generation, with younger members of the community mostly speaking Mandarin and focusing on practicing English. Ali’s boyfriend Andy (Andy Huang, 黃信赫), who makes a surprise visit from New Zealand, appears to be Han-Taiwanese (it’s never clearly stated) but doesn’t speak a lick of Mandarin, contrasting with the indigenous cultural loss. On the other hand, Enoch (Yukan Losing), Pasang’s nephew, is eager to learn the traditional ways from his elders, such as hunting, slaughtering pigs and playing the mouth-harp.
Enoch’s carefree and curious character pushes the plot forward — he’s not exactly involved in the drama, but his role is definitely memorable as he tries to understand where he belongs in a fast-changing world. Yukan Losing’s performance earned him a Golden Horse nomination for best newcomer, one of six awards the movie will be vying for at tomorrow’s award ceremony.
Wilang Lalin also deserves mention for his deft portrayal of the tragic hero Pasang, who tries to do the best he can for his loved ones despite the chaos and strife that ensues.
Life is not the easiest in Pyanan, but the subtle, self-deprecating humor and strong dynamic of a family that deeply cares for each other despite their differences, keeps the mood light-hearted.
It’s not an overt statement on indigenous rights or cultural preservation, nor is there any big revelation or overcoming-all-odds tale here; it’s just an honest, compelling look at the ups and downs of life in a tight-knit community.
Stereotypes toward indigenous people, such as poverty and alcoholism, are apparent, but Laha Mebow has said in an interview that these are real problems that many communities face. They’re shown matter-of-factly and represent just one small part of their daily lives, adding to the deeper exploration of the complexities of a long-marginalized people still grappling with their place in a society dominated by Han-Taiwanese.
In the March 9 edition of the Taipei Times a piece by Ninon Godefroy ran with the headine “The quiet, gentle rhythm of Taiwan.” It started with the line “Taiwan is a small, humble place. There is no Eiffel Tower, no pyramids — no singular attraction that draws the world’s attention.” I laughed out loud at that. This was out of no disrespect for the author or the piece, which made some interesting analogies and good points about how both Din Tai Fung’s and Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Co’s (TSMC, 台積電) meticulous attention to detail and quality are not quite up to
April 21 to April 27 Hsieh Er’s (謝娥) political fortunes were rising fast after she got out of jail and joined the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) in December 1945. Not only did she hold key positions in various committees, she was elected the only woman on the Taipei City Council and headed to Nanjing in 1946 as the sole Taiwanese female representative to the National Constituent Assembly. With the support of first lady Soong May-ling (宋美齡), she started the Taipei Women’s Association and Taiwan Provincial Women’s Association, where she
Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Chairman Eric Chu (朱立倫) hatched a bold plan to charge forward and seize the initiative when he held a protest in front of the Taipei City Prosecutors’ Office. Though risky, because illegal, its success would help tackle at least six problems facing both himself and the KMT. What he did not see coming was Taipei Mayor Chiang Wan-an (將萬安) tripping him up out of the gate. In spite of Chu being the most consequential and successful KMT chairman since the early 2010s — arguably saving the party from financial ruin and restoring its electoral viability —
It is one of the more remarkable facts of Taiwan history that it was never occupied or claimed by any of the numerous kingdoms of southern China — Han or otherwise — that lay just across the water from it. None of their brilliant ministers ever discovered that Taiwan was a “core interest” of the state whose annexation was “inevitable.” As Paul Kua notes in an excellent monograph laying out how the Portuguese gave Taiwan the name “Formosa,” the first Europeans to express an interest in occupying Taiwan were the Spanish. Tonio Andrade in his seminal work, How Taiwan Became Chinese,