If
you want to see this film, you’d better catch it while you can. The Chinese
Communist Party has already denied it permission to screen in Mainland theaters
and it is probably only a matter of time before they start censoring films on
airlines providing Chinese flights. After all, they recently mandated all
airlines and hotels refer to Taiwan and Tibet as part of the one oppressive China.
In this case, the controversy directly bears on Taiwan’s sovereignty. Lead
actor Lawrence Ko expressed support for Taiwanese independence, as is his right
as a citizen of a democracy. Of course, Beijing found that unacceptable and banned
his latest film. The irony is there is absolutely nothing political about this
debut film from a Hou Hsiao-hsien protégé. It is all about the difficulty of
forging and maintaining human bonds (something the Chinese CP isn’t helping any
little bit). Nevertheless, three young people will make connections in Huang Xi’s
Hou-executive produced Missing Johnny (trailer here), which screens
during the 2018 New York Asian Film Festival.
In
this profound threat to Peoples’ Republic’s delicate self-esteem, a handyman
living out of his car, an autistic son craving more independence, and a young
woman working part-time in youth hostel try to navigate modern life in Taipei
as best they can. Nobody is more disappointed in Hsu Zi-qi than she is. She
lives in a flat mostly paid for by an arrogant boyfriend she rarely sees. Most
of her time is spent with her parrots and answering frequent wrong numbers for
a mysterious Johnny, until Chang Yi-feng starts working on her landlady’s next-door
building.
Chang
mostly crashes in his car, but he frequently eats with the family of a former
teacher, who consider him part of the family. Unfortunately, it is a roaring
dysfunctional family, whose meals often end in arguments between the aging
mother and father. Nothing like that happens with Lee Li and his controlling mother,
but he starts rebelling in quiet ways.
Admittedly,
it takes a bit of time for Missing Johnny
to get in gear, but that arguably makes its subtle payoffs all the more
rewarding. It is tough to really connect, so if Hsu and Chang can do so, even to
a modest degree, that is still something.
Needless
to say, you can see Hou’s influence all over the film. In fact, one scene looks
very much like a deliberate homage to the striking opening of Millennium Mambo. Yet, despite the
characters’ past disappointments and Huang’s generally naturalistic approach,
they film instills optimism and warm feelings, which are hard to find in any
kind of cinema these days.
One
thing can be said with certainty: Rima Zeidan is going to be an international
mega-star. She has already justly won several awards for her luminous but
acutely sensitive debut as Hsu. Ko, the trouble-maker, also gives a wonderfully
understated yet richly complex performance as Chang (okay, he is a nice guy,
but he’s more than that). Sean Huang gets much less screen-time in comparison,
but he admirably avoids shtick, cliché, and theatrics, making Lee a fully
dimensional person.
Missing Johnny is a deceptively
simple, deeply resonant film. Banning such a humanistic work is truly an act of
folly. There are no pat takeaways and not a great deal of closure, but Huang
leaves us feeling like we can find meaning in the world—not a lot, but enough. Affectionately
recommended for admirers of Hou and the cinema of the great independent nation
of Taiwan, Missing Johnny screens
this Saturday afternoon (7/7) at the Walter Reade, as part of this year’s
NYAFF.