From an outsider’s perspective, things are quite grim for the Chen family. Set in perpetually-rainy rural Yilan County near the beach, this subdued drama revolves around youngest son A-liang (Tung Liang-yu, 董亮宇), who performs odd jobs and devotes himself to taking care of his mentally disabled elder brother A-ting (Chung Shang-ting, 鍾尚庭). He’s also a talented artist whose bedroom walls are plastered with his drawings.
Meanwhile, eldest son A-wei (Wu Wei-han, 吳威翰) engages in questionable activities and rarely comes home, and the stern, silent yet sensitive father A-ming (Chen Ming, 陳銘) tries his best to keep the family afloat while his wife is in the hospital.
The natural beauty of their surroundings is mostly littered with trash, and A-liang and A-ting spend their days playing baseball among the debris, catching fish in the dirty pond and scavenging junk washed up on the beach.
Photo courtesy of Golden Horse Film Festival
But somehow, their situation does not come off as pitiful nor sad. They may not seem to have much to look forward to, but they’re not exactly struggling either. Like his previous film Synapses (那個我最親愛的陌生人, reviewed on Nov. 28, 2019), which deals with dementia and memory loss, director Chang Tso-chi (張作驥) presents the story through extended vignettes of the family’s daily interactions. Flotsam and Jetsam (夏日天空的那匹紅馬) goes more into detail with their mundane activities and has even less of a clear plot, but what’s different is that it doesn’t dwell on hopelessness and despair. It’s even heart-warming at times.
Nothing dramatic happens to the family and the characters don’t express themselves very well, if at all, but it’s clear that they care deeply about each other. The father and two younger sons eat dinner together every day, and while the conversation mostly consists of things like “eat more vegetables, don’t just eat meat” and “don’t drink too much alcohol,” their bonds are evident. Even the wayward eldest son tries to provide for them and shows up when it’s time to visit the bedridden mother.
One of the more poignant scenes is when A-zhen (Fox Lee, 李亞臻), a young woman who barges into their lives, attends A-ting’s birthday party and expresses her envy for what the family has. And the brief conversation with A-liang that ensues is one of the very few moments where he talks about how he really feels. A-ting gets drunk that night and poops his pants, and while A-liang scolds him and grumbles, he still cleans up after his brother and they head out together again the following day, with A-ting clutching onto the back of A-liang’s shirt.
Photo courtesy of Golden Horse Film Festival
A-zhen’s side-story of longing and searching provides some drama and distraction from the monotony of the all-male household, and her animated, gangster-ish ex-boyfriend (Huang Huai-te, 黃懷德), who raps at a local night market, provides absurdist comedic relief. Chang could have expanded more on A-zhen’s background, as there are several scenes that are confusing and unclear. It would also give a bit more color (literally, as she wears bright clothes compared to the others) to the story.
While many Taiwanese films of this genre focus on family conflict and dysfunction, there’s little bitterness or complaints (although a lot of nagging) in Flotsam and Jetsam. The central motif in the film, as the Chinese title indicates, is a giant inflatable red horse, and it seems to represent the bit of hope that the characters manage to hold on to, no matter how hard things get.
It’s not the easiest film to watch as one constantly wonders if the plot is going anywhere, and many of the subtle details only sink in afterward. But it’s beautifully shot (even the garbage-filled scenes are somehow poetic) and edited, with a fitting emotional soundtrack that amplifies the mood.
Photo courtesy of Golden Horse Film Festival
What was the population of Taiwan when the first Negritos arrived? In 500BC? The 1st century? The 18th? These questions are important, because they can contextualize the number of babies born last month, 6,523, to all the people on Taiwan, indigenous and colonial alike. That figure represents a year on year drop of 3,884 babies, prefiguring total births under 90,000 for the year. It also represents the 26th straight month of deaths exceeding births. Why isn’t this a bigger crisis? Because we don’t experience it. Instead, what we experience is a growing and more diverse population. POPULATION What is Taiwan’s actual population?
For the past five years, Sammy Jou (周祥敏) has climbed Kinmen’s highest peak, Taiwu Mountain (太武山) at 6am before heading to work. In the winter, it’s dark when he sets out but even at this hour, other climbers are already coming down the mountain. All of this is a big change from Jou’s childhood during the Martial Law period, when the military requisitioned the mountain for strategic purposes and most of it was off-limits. Back then, only two mountain trails were open, and they were open only during special occasions, such as for prayers to one’s ancestors during Lunar New Year.
A key feature of Taiwan’s environmental impact assessments (EIA) is that they seldom stop projects, especially once the project has passed its second stage EIA review (the original Suhua Highway proposal, killed after passing the second stage review, seems to be the lone exception). Mingjian Township (名間鄉) in Nantou County has been the site of rising public anger over the proposed construction of a waste incinerator in an important agricultural area. The township is a key producer of tea (over 40 percent of the island’s production), ginger and turmeric. The incinerator project is currently in its second stage EIA. The incinerator
It sounded innocuous enough. On the morning of March 12, a group of Taichung political powerbrokers held a press conference in support of Deputy Legislative Speaker Johnny Chiang’s (江啟臣) bid to win the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) primary in the Taichung mayoral race. Big deal, right? It was a big deal, one with national impact and likely sent shivers down the spine of KMT Chairwoman Cheng Li-wun (鄭麗文). Who attended, who did not, the timing and the messaging were all very carefully calibrated for maximum impact — a masterclass in political messaging. In October last year, the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP)
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