It’s pretty predictable what will happen when egotistical, homophobic cop Ming-han (Greg Hsu, 許光漢) is coerced into marrying the ghost of recently deceased gay man Mao Mao (Austin Lin, 林柏宏).
While retrieving evidence a drug dealer threw out the window during an over-the-top car chase, Ming-han accidentally picks up a red envelope planted by Mao Mao’s grandmother, who hopes to find her grandson a husband in the afterlife. Ming-han does not believe in this folk practice, but after a series of mishaps befalls him that same afternoon, he reluctantly agrees to the ghost wedding and becomes the only person who can see Mao Mao’s spirit.
Based on Lai Chih-liang’s (賴致良) script, which won Best Creative Story in 2018’s Let’s Be Wild (野草計畫) screenwriting contest, the film presents an intriguing concept as both ghost weddings and gay weddings are frowned upon in society.
Photo courtesy of Calendar Studios
Anyhow, forced to spend every waking minute together, Ming-han eventually changes his views, becomes a better person and saves the day.
Sure, it’s formulaic, mainstream stuff, albeit with a uniquely Taiwanese twist, but that doesn’t mean that Marry My Dead Body (關於我和鬼變成家人的那件事) isn’t entertaining. Having delivered blockbusters such as The Tag-Along (紅衣小女孩) and The Soul (魂), director Cheng Wei-hao (程偉豪) appears to have mastered the art of making solid, commercially successful supernatural thrillers. Now he adds comedy to his resume.
The chemistry between Ming-han and Mao Mao, who angrily call each other “damned gay” and “dumb straight guy” at first, is quite warm and builds naturally. They both harbor stereotypical beliefs about people of each other’s sexual orientation, and the scenes of their daily interaction and eventual mutual understanding, while cheesy at points, are hilarious and poignant.
Photo courtesy of Calendar Studios
There’s quite a lot going on in the film, which is mainly driven by Ming-han’s attempts to catch notorious drug dealer Brother Hsiao (Tsai Chen-nan, 蔡振南) and redeem his career, while trying to help Mao Mao fulfill his lingering wishes so he can leave this world without regrets. Mao Mao promises to use his spiritual powers to help Ming-han with his tasks, but his attempts often go unexpectedly awry. Of course, the recipe always calls for a twist or two to the mystery, and despite knowing so, it was still fun and effective.
Gingle Wang (王淨) plays Ming-han’s love interest and work partner Tzu-ching, who despite being a side character, pulls her weight and allows for further examination of gender stereotypes and expectations. She tries to prove herself as a competent cop and not just a pretty face for promotional and ceremonial purposes, but some coworkers still spread rumors that she slept her way to the top.
Chosen as the closer for last year’s Golden Horse Film Festival, Marry My Dead Body is more than just a silly action-comedy; it showcases various traditional and modern Taiwanese cultural phenomena and touches upon issues ranging from same-sex marriage to environmental awareness. The film’s commercial style allows for these topics to reach a larger audience in a non-preachy, light-hearted manner, as it garnered NT$47 million in box office sales in just its first three days in theaters.
For example, Mao Mao is an active proponent of bringing one’s own containers and bags to take out restaurants, and his first request to Ming-han is to “stop global warming.” His endearing grandmother (Wang Man-Chiao, 王滿嬌) is a vocal supporter of his sexual orientation, accompanying him to the pride parade, but his stern father (Tuo Tsung-hua, 庹宗華) cannot accept it.
These two characters are also portrayed well, and contribute to the depth of the movie. One of the film’s actors will probably win an award this year for their performance.
Under pressure, President William Lai (賴清德) has enacted his first cabinet reshuffle. Whether it will be enough to staunch the bleeding remains to be seen. Cabinet members in the Executive Yuan almost always end up as sacrificial lambs, especially those appointed early in a president’s term. When presidents are under pressure, the cabinet is reshuffled. This is not unique to any party or president; this is the custom. This is the case in many democracies, especially parliamentary ones. In Taiwan, constitutionally the president presides over the heads of the five branches of government, each of which is confusingly translated as “president”
Sept. 1 to Sept. 7 In 1899, Kozaburo Hirai became the first documented Japanese to wed a Taiwanese under colonial rule. The soldier was partly motivated by the government’s policy of assimilating the Taiwanese population through intermarriage. While his friends and family disapproved and even mocked him, the marriage endured. By 1930, when his story appeared in Tales of Virtuous Deeds in Taiwan, Hirai had settled in his wife’s rural Changhua hometown, farming the land and integrating into local society. Similarly, Aiko Fujii, who married into the prominent Wufeng Lin Family (霧峰林家) in 1927, quickly learned Hoklo (commonly known as Taiwanese) and
The Venice Film Festival kicked off with the world premiere of Paolo Sorrentino’s La Grazia Wednesday night on the Lido. The opening ceremony of the festival also saw Francis Ford Coppola presenting filmmaker Werner Herzog with a lifetime achievement prize. The 82nd edition of the glamorous international film festival is playing host to many Hollywood stars, including George Clooney, Julia Roberts and Dwayne Johnson, and famed auteurs, from Guillermo del Toro to Kathryn Bigelow, who all have films debuting over the next 10 days. The conflict in Gaza has also already been an everpresent topic both outside the festival’s walls, where
The low voter turnout for the referendum on Aug. 23 shows that many Taiwanese are apathetic about nuclear energy, but there are long-term energy stakes involved that the public needs to grasp Taiwan faces an energy trilemma: soaring AI-driven demand, pressure to cut carbon and reliance on fragile fuel imports. But the nuclear referendum on Aug. 23 showed how little this registered with voters, many of whom neither see the long game nor grasp the stakes. Volunteer referendum worker Vivian Chen (陳薇安) put it bluntly: “I’ve seen many people asking what they’re voting for when they arrive to vote. They cast their vote without even doing any research.” Imagine Taiwanese voters invited to a poker table. The bet looked simple — yes or no — yet most never showed. More than two-thirds of those
RSS