Struggling with his once-promising career, dispirited astronomer Cheng-hsiu (Mo Tzu-yi, 莫子儀) has pushed his wife and child away from him, moving lifelessly through his days, and haunted by his dreams and personal demons. The slowness is also literal, as Cheng-hsiu walks with a cane due to a congenital leg condition.
Murmurs of Memories is an oblique and rather confusing story that shifts between the present, Cheng-hsiu’s childhood and a seemingly unrelated tale of a Paiwan princess (Chien Hsiao-yi, 簡孝儀) who is forced away from her idyllic life to become the wife of a Japanese commander during the Japanese colonial era. The only part that initially connects the two eras at first are the colliding binary stars whose brightness can be seen during the day, a topic that Cheng-hsiu has repeatedly failed in obtaining funding to study despite his early success in the area.
The three parts are further separated by language, Mandarin in the present, Hoklo (also known as Taiwanese) during the flashbacks and Paiwan/Japanese in the historic tale, showing the cultural shifts in Taiwan over a century.
Photo courtesy of CPT Entertainment
Most of the film relies on such implicit connections that the audience may or may not make. Some are slightly more obvious, but very little is said directly. For those who aren’t adept at detecting such subtleties, Murmurs of Memories still makes for a moody, artsy piece about modern, middle-aged loneliness, but there’s apparently much more below the surface. Even the presenter at the beginning of the premiere screening said that it’s a film that might need to be watched a few times.
There are little hints throughout the film that suggest that the Paiwan princess may be Cheng-hsiu in his past life, especially as the concept of reincarnation is repeatedly brought up. In fact, according to the movie synopsis (which this reviewer usually doesn’t read before going in), it’s a tale about someone who is tortured because they forgot to drink the “mengpo tea” (孟婆湯), which, according to traditional beliefs, erases the memories a previous life before reincarnation.
There’s also some curious parallels, such as Cheng-hsiu being overshadowed at work by a Japanese colleague who turns out to be quite a slimy character, and his brief encounter with female student (it isn’t pictured how far it goes) Pluto (Yeh Ying, 葉穎), who likes to talk about stars and past lives. The synopsis says that she may be Cheng-hsiu’s lover from his past life, but that is in no way apparent from just watching the film.
Photo courtesy of CPT Entertainment
Cheng Hsiu’s wife (Joanne Deng, 鄧九雲), who gave up a piano career to become a housewife, and their young child visibly suffer from his absences and indifferent attitude, but it’s unclear if they refer to anything in the past life, or are they just victims of Cheng Hsiu’s inability to let go of his past. There’s a lot more left unexplained — especially the lack of a backstory in the Japanese era scenes.
Now thinking back, it seems that many scenes that felt out of place while viewing, such as a fight Cheng-hsiu’s daughter got into at school, or him visiting his dying father with his estranged brother, were also placed in there to help Cheng Hsiu slowly snap back to reality.
It’s just hard to analyze all of this while the movie goes on. The gist of the film is apparent, but like most people’s memories, it is disjointed and doesn’t always make immediate sense. Perhaps one will discover new things on a second viewing, but it’s not riveting enough to warrant that.
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