AAIFF ’10: Woman on Fire Looks for Water

No frogs were killed in the making of this film. Okay, maybe one. A whole lot of fish and cockles also met their maker during the shoot, but that is just a fact of life for a hardscrabble riverside Malay community. It might not be glamorous, but there is a living to be made from the river’s bounty. It is relationships that are difficult in Woo Ming-jin’s Woman on Fire Looks for Water, which screened at this year’s Asian American International Film Festival.

Ah Fin works at a shellfish factory, selling live frogs on the side. He is crazy about his sorta-kinda girlfriend Lily, keeping her well stocked with prime frog and even somewhat seriously broaching the subject of marriage. Though she also works in a fish factory, she evidently comes from a good home. By contrast, Ah Fin and Ah Kau, his fisherman father, must eke little better than a subsistence living. It would be much easier for Ah Fin if he would just accept the advances of his boss’s daughter, but he is in love.

Ah Kau understands the pain of unfulfilled love only too well. All too conscious of his impending mortality, he tries to settle some unfinished business with the woman he always pined for. Indeed, Ah Fin does not want to repeat his father’s mistake, but suddenly, like a true teenager, he falls out of love with Lily.

As Lily, Foo Fei-ling should probably be way out of Ah Fin’s league, but she brings a quiet expressiveness to the role that never wilts under Woo’s long, patient close-ups. In contrast, despite showing some convincing puppy-love chemistry with Foo, Ernest Chong is something of a cold fish as Ah Fin. However, Chung Ah-nga lends some quiet gravitas as his faltering father.

Stylistically, Woo’s approach is quite similar to the aesthetics of China’s Digital Generation of independent filmmakers. Meditative and impressionistic, Water would not be out of place in a Global Lens showcase of international cinema. Indeed, it is an art film with a capitol “A.” The audience also learns quite a bit about cleaning and salting fish and assorted mollusks during the film, whether we wanted to or not. Tidying up is a snap too, since all the waste products seem to go back in the river. It is biodegradable after all. Still, some viewers might feel like a nice piece of veal after watching Water.

As a story-teller, Woo is more interested in those on the short end of their relationship dynamic. Initially, he focuses on Ah Fin when the young man is still earnest and dutiful. When the young man turns cold and distant, he shifts the film’s orientation to Lily, who suddenly misses Ah’s attentions.

Clearly, Woo privileges mood, setting and character far above storyline. In fact, some plot points are dispensed with so elliptically, it frankly compromises narrative clarity. Woo was also represented at this year’s AAIFF with Slovak Sling, a contribution to the 15Malaysia short film collection that is Water’s stylistic polar opposite. At just under five minutes, it is essentially a punch-line short. All story and no serious character development, it is a pointed but very funny attack on the pervasiveness of petty corruption in Malaysian society.

Based on both films presented at AAIFF, Woo should definitely be considered an emerging star of the film fest set. He can also be quite demanding, as is the case with Water. It is a beautiful film in many ways, but it can also be maddening. Still, it showcases Foo’s talent quite effectively. Look for Water on the festival circuit, but do not hold your breath for a theatrical release. The 33rd AAIFF continues with more bold selections through Wednesday (7/21) in Manhattan’s fashionable Chelsea neighborhood.

AAIFF ’10: Zoom Hunting

If you sleep around, at least have the good sense to close the blinds. Had a pair of illicit lovers simply done so, it would have avoided all sorts of trouble in Li Cho voyeuristic thriller Zoom Hunting (trailer here), which screened during the 33rd Asian American International Film Festival on an appropriately steamy day in Manhattan.

The Yang sisters are beautiful and creative. Ruyi, the younger, is a photographer who leaves her dirty coffee cups all over their apartment. Her older sister-roommate Ruxing is a neatly organized novelist suffering from a recent bout of writer’s block. Ruyi thinks she has stumbled on the cure. Inadvertently, she snapped some revealing photos of a couple in the apartment building across the street. Later spying the woman on the street, Ruyi follows her, deducing she is in fact a married mother involved in a torrid affair. Surely such voyeurism should also spark Ruxing’s inspiration.

Indeed, after a few initial “no-really-how-could-I’s,” Ruxing is typing away again, using her sister to stakeout the love nest. Dozing off amid her surveillance, Ruyi wakes in time to observe some sort of physical altercation going on in the apartment, but she cannot make out the details. Concerned, she calls five-o, but the plodding flatfoots do not find anything amiss. Her sister seems to be acting a little weird though. From here, suspicions start to mount.

Zoom has an odd vibe. It is sort of like a naughty late night cable thriller directed by an art-house filmmaker from a woman’s point of view. While its debt to Rear Window is inescapable, Cho keeps a few clever revelations tucked up her sleeve, divulging them quite deftly in the final act. Though the ultimate twist is a bit predictable, at least she keeps it ambiguous, which makes it less frustrating.

Though she looks like she should be in the fashion shoots rather than behind the camera, Ning Chang is convincingly down to earth as Ruyi. Playing it smart by genre standards, Chang definitely keeps the audience’s sympathy, even when the drama lurches a bit over the top. By necessity, Zhu Zhi-Ying is coolly reserved as Ruxing, effectively setting up Zoom’s big reveals as a result.

Despite content that will definitely appeal to male viewers, Zoom is clearly more in-tune with its feminine side. Though it would hardly be fair to call it a man-bashing movie, its male characters are essentially self-centered cads, boring working stiffs, or nice but goofy old guys. Still, it is hardly a war of the sexes considering how much screen time is allotted to the two sisters, Chou Heng-Yin as the married woman in Ruyi’s photos, and Chinese-American actress Michelle Krusiec in her Taiwanese film debut.

Though it has some rough stylistic edges, Zoom is never dull, pulling viewers through at a healthy gallop. Highly commercial with an engaging lead performance, it ought to at least find an American shelf-life on DVD in the future. It is one of several selections nicely showcasing Taiwanese cinema at this year’s AAIFF, which continues through Wednesday (7/21), mostly at the Chelsea Clearview and Quad Cinemas.

AAIFF ’10: Running Turtle

There is not much for Det. Jo Pil-seong to do in his provincial town besides drinking and gambling. Regrettably, he is far better at the former than the latter. Typically, he only has to worry about his angry wife, until he crosses paths with a wanted fugitive. Things get pretty messy for the out of shape flatfoot in Lee Yeon-woo’s quirky manhunt film Running Turtle (trailer here), which screens as part of the 2010 Asian American International Film Festival.

Det. Jo is about as a corrupt a doofus as is humanly possible while still being generally sympathetic. His wife though is already running out of patience. When Jo gets suspended from the force, he doubles down on stupidity, cleaning out his wife’s savings to bet on a long shot in the upcoming bull butting tournament. It seems to work out though when his bull pulls off an upset. However, he loses it all when the fugitive Song Gi-tae takes out Jo’s bookie, stealing his winnings just as the slovenly copper came to collect them. Giving chase, Jo eventually mixes it up with the perp, only to wake up black-and-blue and wearing his own cuffs. It is just the first of many humiliations Jo will endure as he pursues his new nemesis, as well as his money.

While erratically careening towards a mano-a-mano showdown between the two antagonists, Turtle takes its time to savor Jo’s angst and family dysfunction. Indeed, some of the film’s most endearing scenes are those of Jo and his daughter Ok-soon, serving as a reluctant go-between for her parents.

As Jo, Kim Yoon-seuk (the breakout star of The Chaser) definitely looks like a loser, projecting an appropriately hound dog likability. Unfortunately, the next sharpest drawn character is his daughter Ok-soon, nicely played by youngster Kim Ji-na. By contrast, his colleagues on the force are blandly interchangeable. Yet, Jeong Kyeong-ho is the most problematic, exhibiting no real presence as the villainous Song. Frankly, he is just kind of dull.

Director Lee’s screenplay offers a few pointed observations of bureaucratic infighting and the vapid celebrity culture that causes some kids to adopt Song as a cult hero. He also respects the small town setting, resisting the urge to use the rural population as the butt of cheap jokes. (After all, bull-butting is probably an endlessly fascinating sport for those in the know.) While he seems to take delight in piling tribulations on Jo’s head, he never lets the tone get to dark.

Largely carried by Kim, Turtle is a small but reasonably entertaining diversion. Blending family drama and small town idiosyncrasies with traditional thriller elements rather smoothly, fans of Korean cinema will find it worth checking out when it screens this Sunday (7/18) at the Chelsea Clearview as part of this year’s AAIFF.

AAIFF ’10: Slice

It is not called Slice for nothing. In fact, Kongkiat Khomsiri’s serial killer thriller is everything you suspect and then some. You will never look at red luggage the same way if you catch Khomsiri’s dark, psychologically complex film during this year’s Asian American International Film Festival.

A thoroughly corrupt cop, Papa Chin will be conveniently scapegoated if he cannot clear a particularly gruesome string of killings. Coincidently, aspects of the case suggest a connection to Tai, his former subordinate currently cooling his heels in prison as part of Chin’s nefarious machinations. Out of desperation, Chin reactivates Tai, so he can return to his hometown to follow up on his leads. Unfortunately, all signs point to Nut, an effeminate boy young Tai either befriended or bullied, depending on whether any other kids were present.

What follows is something of a cross between Stand By Me and The Silence of the Lambs as Tai plumbs his increasingly disturbing childhood memories. However, with the clock ticking and the surfer dude-looking Papa Chin using Tai’s wife as extra added motivation, the psychologically damaged Nut has apparently disappeared from the face of the Earth.

Slice is one twisted vision of humanity with a real “oh snap” ending. Not for the faint of heart, its violent sequences border on the baroque, as the mysterious killer (resembling Salieri in a red cape and mask) slashes and swirls through masses of victims. It does not shy away from taboo subject matter either, making it all too clear the ways Nut was repeatedly abused and what the long term effects of it were.

Like Vietnamese action star Johnny Tri Nguyen, Arak Amornsupasiri is bit inexpressive, but still projects a certain degree of screen presence as the protagonist Tai. Often upstaging him, Chatchai Plengpanich is indeed a great scenery-chewing screen villain as Papa Chin. However, Jessica Pasaphan’s legitimately brave performance as Noi truly defines the film’s soul.

Tightly edited by Sunij Asavinkul, Slice holds together in retrospect, even after dropping its surprise existential crisis. Though violent and unsettling, it is a stylish thriller that should generate heated viewer reaction. Thai cinema might not get much market penetration in America, but Slice’s contempt for playing it safe deserves a cult following. It screens this Friday (7/16) as part of the 2010 AAIFF at the Chelsea Clearview.

AAIFF ’10: Taipei 24H

Founded in the early 1700’s, much of Taipei’s civic character comes from its ultra-modern architecture. An international hub of economic activity, Taipei bustles with energy. Eight Taiwanese filmmakers capture the diversity of life in the city over the course of a single day in Taipei 24H, an anthology film commissioned by Taiwanese Public Television, which screens at this year’s Asian American International Film Festival.

24H starts cute with Feng-feng Cheng’s Share the Morning. When walking to school, a group of school children spies a cat stuck up a tree. Unfortunately, the adults of the neighborhood are rather disorganized in their rescue attempts. Filmed from the perspective of the cat, it is a light and amusing kick-off to the film. It is followed by Chang-zer Niu’s Just a Little Run, a story of two school children running away from home. Though it initially brings to mind kids-on-the-street films like Children of Invention, Niu keeps it lighter. As it turns out, this episode is more about puppy love than survival.

Perhaps the most mature installment is Debbie Hsu’s Summer Heat, a film about foiled illicit love. While the would-be lovers do not acknowledge it, evidently this fateful day is St. Valentines, which plays an important role in Hsian-tse Cheng’s Save the Lover, arguably the most fully developed story of the film. A suspicious mob boss orders his young flunky to spy on his beautiful young lover, but she turns the tables on him quite emphatically. Edgy yet oddly sweet, it is one of the highlights of 24H. With the Taipei 101 Tower figuring prominently in it, Save also makes the best use of Taipei as a distinctive setting.

Of course, anthology films are uneven by their nature. Some vignettes feel a bit slight, like Chi-yuam Lee’s Smoke, but at least it serves as an effective transition from day into night. Clearly, the most experimental contribution is Ying-jung Chen’s Dream Walker. While it ultimately redeems itself, Dream’s self-consciously surreal imagery and techno soundtrack give it the vibe of a dated music video. Though somewhat sentimental, Je-yi An’s family drama Owl Service nicely conveys Taipei’s late night ambiance and showcases a very strong performance from its young lead.

Appropriately, 24H saves its deepest and most accomplished film for last—4:00 AM to be exact. Featuring renowned Taiwanese auteur Tsai Ming-liang directed, in a reversal of roles, by his cinematic alter-ego, actor Kang-sheng Lee, Remembrance is deceptively simple. Having sold her business, the proprietress of a late night coffee shop is joined by a regular customer for a final cup of java and to watch a documentary on Luo Man-fei, a Taiwanese ballerina who died of lung cancer, but whose celebrated performance of choreography shaped by the experiences of Tiananmen Square survivors still has the power to move the night owls decades later. Brief but elegant, Remembrance celebrates quiet moments of beauty and those who inspire them. It is a perfect ending to the collaborative film.

Concluding with its finest hour, 24H is well worth seeing for Remembrance alone. While there are ups and downs throughout the day, there more than enough entertaining moments throughout 24H to recommend it as a whole. It screens as part of the 2010 AAIFF this coming Sunday (7/18) at the Chelsea Clearview.

AAIFF ’10: Turn of the Harvest & Daughters

There was a time when rural peasants represented an ideologically privileged class in China. Today, they mostly lead hardscrabble lives of strife and want, particularly when compared to the urban professional classes. It is an iniquity frequently captured by the digital-generation of independent Chinese directors, as well as two American-based filmmakers whose stylistically compatible shorts set in China will screen during this year’s Asian American International Film Festival.

D-Generation documentaries represent the living conditions of the unfortunates who exist on the margins of Chinese society with scrupulous accuracy. However, their length and studiously languid aesthetics can try the patience of some audiences. In contrast, Tani Ikeda’s documentary short Turn of the Harvest never overstays it’s welcome, but still gives viewers an honest, tactile sense of its subjects’ lives.

A late middle-aged couple works their wheat field, quietly joking between themselves. The man has a broken finger he has not treated for three weeks. Yet, outwardly they seem happy. However, as Ikeda interviews his wife, it becomes clear their relationship is not all it might appear. Especially painful for her was a decision to relinquish one of the twins she gave birth to, out of economic necessity. Surprisingly, they choose to give up their son, because boys cost more to raise.

Of course, boys tend to be preferred over girls, which accounts for the looming shortage of marriageable women under China’s restrictive family planning. Take for instance the family of fourteen year year-old Maple in Chloé Zhao’s narrative short Daughters. With a coveted baby boy on the way, her parents suddenly have one daughter too many. Coldly pragmatic, they see only two options. Either they foist off her sweet tempered young sister on a distant family member or they arrange her marriage to a disturbingly old man. Not surprisingly, such news causes confusion and resentment for the preteen.

Daughters is nine minutes of focused heartbreak, featuring a devastating performance from young Luo Qian as Maple. Though brief, it is undeniably assured filmmaking, all the more impressive considering it was the NYU alumnus’s second year film.

While Harvest is a documentary and Daughters is a narrative, both convey rural China with unvarnished naturalism. They are quite well produced short works from young filmmakers with tremendous promise. Daughters screens this coming Saturday (7/16) at the Chelsea Clearview as part of AAIFF’s Oh Family, Where Art Thou? block of shorts, while Harvest screens the next day at the Quad as part of the Untold Stories shorts program.

AAIFF ’10: Manila Skies

Poverty is a killer, which makes Manila one deadly city. Caught in desperate economic circumstances, one man resorts to an incredibly ill-conceived hijacking. A film “based on a true story,” with an emphasis on the quotation marks, Palme d’Or winning filmmaker Raymond Red shows the audience what led the hijacker to such an extreme act in Manila Skies (trailer here), the opening night selection of the 2010 Asian American International Film Festival.

Raul had a job, but he evidently loses it when requesting time off from his boss. In truth, he probably could have been smarter in how he asks. In need of money to visit his ailing father, Raul wants to apply for better paying work overseas. Of course, in the Philippines, this process involves copious layers of bureaucratic paperwork, which he does not have an aptitude for. Empty-handed and unemployed by the end of the day, Raul is finally vulnerable to his drinking buddies’ dodgy scheme to plunder the office of a shady businessman.

Not criminally minded, Raul finally relents only out of frustration and the cumulative impact of their ringleader Crispin’s unceasing class warfare rhetoric. Needless to say, things do not go according to plan.

Though ostensibly a crime story, Manila clearly follows more in the tradition of socially conscious art films like The Bicycle Thief than action driven fare like Passenger 57. Relentlessly naturalistic, Red revels in the mean conditions Raul endures. However, he is also a bit of a trickster, pulling off some surprisingly effective narrative misdirection.

As Raul, Raul Arellano keeps the audience off-balance with his intense but ambiguous performance. Indeed, he makes it difficult to form a hard and fast judgment on the everyman antihero until nearly the film’s final moments. While only seen briefly during the film’s early scenes in the provincial village of Romblon, veteran Filipino actor Ronnie Lazaro also brings a tragic dignity to the film that effectively sets up the story that follows.

As a country with several active Islamic and Maoist terrorist cells, it seems highly ironic that Manila focuses on such an impotent act of economically motivated terror. Still, it is a well-crafted film that fits together quite cleverly in retrospect. An intriguing and pointed work, Manila should generate a lot of discussion when it opens AAIFF. Recommended for discerning viewers, it screens at the Chelsea Clearview this Thursday (7/15).

AAIFF ’10: The Hirosaki Players (short)

It would have been incredible to see Toshiro Mifune on-stage, regardless of the production. In that spirit, a capacity house has turned out to see Kentaro, the famous but cantankerous samurai actor, rather than his son’s pretentious play in Jeff Sousa’s New York-set Japanese language short The Hirosaki Players (trailer here), which screens at the 2010 Asian American International Film Festival.

Though the curtain should be rising any minute, Kentaro and the playwright Tsubasa are still having “creative differences” likely exacerbated by their strained father-son relationship. Kentaro thinks the play is overwritten, whereas Tsubasa attributes the over-the-hill actor’s difficulties to age and attitude. Yet they each have reasons for wanting the New York premiere to be a success.

Last year, AAIFF featured an unusually strong slate of short films and this year’s festival looks like it upholds that tradition. A case in point, Hirosaki is a well-produced, entertaining back-stage drama that might be described as a My Favorite Year inspired by the films of Kurosawa rather than Errol Flynn. It also boasts a convincing cast, particularly leads Ikkô Furuya and Eijiro Ozaki, who play off each other nicely as Kentaro and Tsubasa, respectively. Relatively longish for a short at about twenty minutes, it makes its point without overstaying its welcome.

Smart and classy, Hirosaki is one of the better short films currently on the festival circuit. It screens as part of AAIFF’s Oh Family Where Art Thou? program of shorts this coming Friday (7/16) at the Chelsea Clearview.