Animation First ’24: When Adam Changes

Poor Adam seems to have a mutant case of puberty. Whenever he finds himself in a socially awkward situation, his body visibly alters, especially his “long torso.” Unfortunately, that means his lower belly is hanging out there pretty much throughout Joel Vaudreuil’s animated feature, When Adam Changes, which screens today as part of this year’s Animation First.

In 1990s Quebec, Adam gets bullied a lot for his stooped shoulders, pudgy midrift, and that darned torso (which keeps growing with each callous remark), particularly by his “beloved” grandmother, Ange. Her death hits his mother hard, but it leaves him confused about how he should feel and react. Adam is not a bad guy, so his older sister really ought to have his back more. Unfortunately, she is distracted by her toxic relationship with her unfaithful boyfriend.

Adam obviously carries a torch for a pretty girl, who maybe recognizes he is smarter than most of their classmates, but whenever he tries to engage with her, she always seems to disappoint him. It also seems like he is the only teen in the entire school who must work over the summer. Much to his chagrin, his father committed him for two jobs. One is a house-sitting gig that isn’t bad. However, mowing the lawn of a crazy grass-obsessed neighbor is a miserable experience.

Nashville ’18: Virus Tropical

Paola’s father Uriel is an ex-priest and her mother Hilda is a fortune teller. They will move from Ecuador, a country with a good deal of political instability to Cali, Colombia, the home of the notorious cartel. It all sounds like a recipe for epic strife, but her teen angst is still largely the same universal stuff most everyone can recognize in Santiago Caicedo’s Virus Tropical (trailer here), an animated feature adaptation of the graphic novel written by Paola Gaviria (a.k.a. Powerpaola), which screens during the 2018 Nashville Film Festival.

Arguably, Paola is a miracle baby, somehow arriving after her mother’s tubal ligation. Apparently, it can happen, but almost never this soon. Regardless, Paola surprised everyone, especially her middle sister Patty, who resents losing her status as the baby of the family. For several years, Patty bullies Paola, while the oldest sister Claudia remains aloof, until a switch flips and Patty becomes Paola’s even more ferocious protector.

The truth is Paola will need a little looking after. When their parent’s marriage ruptures, in spirit if not in law, her mother’s long-nursed resentments make her a rather unstable parent. Of course, their father has disappeared off to Medellin, at the behest of is manipulative mother. Eventually, Paola and Hilda move to Cali to live with Patty, but their mother soon returns to Quito, leaving Paola in the care of her sister and a hippyish, Summerhill-esque academy, which was the only school that would accept her on short notice.

In a way, Virus Tropical is the anti-Little Women. Paola is a bit of a Jo March kind of figure (she sells nature drawings rather than stories), but instead of a caring, sheltering home, her family is a fractured mess. There is also way more peer pressure, sex, and drug use than in Alcott’s novel. Yet, it is surprising how low the stakes feel throughout VT, even though gunfire periodically erupts while Paola and her friends are clubbing. Of course, it was all critically important to Gaviria’s alter ego at the time—and we can partially relate to that.

Nevertheless, the film’s style trumps its narrative in each and every frame. The black-and-white animation, faithfully modeled on Powerpaola’s art is starkly dramatic, not unlike Persepolis, but looser and more sketch-like. It looks terrific, especially the stunning, almost baroque backdrops. However, the constant bickering between mother and daughters becomes wearisome, as do the weak nothings that are the male characters.

Still, Paola and Patty are appealing rooting interests, so it is rewarding to watch them get a handle on their lives. Plus, the animation is so distinctive, it largely carries the film. Definitely a film for adults, notwithstanding the youthful characters, Virus Tropical is recommended for animation connoisseurs who will appreciate its look and texture when it screens tomorrow (5/12) and Wednesday (5/16), as part of this year’s Nashville Film Festival.

Slamdance ’18: Fake Tattoos

Some stoners are actually sensitive kids. Believe it or not, it is not impossible for them to fall in love, under the right circumstances. This is even true in French Canada. When Théo meets Mag (short for Marguerite), the timing is either utterly awful or absolutely perfect. Regardless, their rapport develops at warp speed in Pascal Plante’s Fake Tattoos (trailer here), which screens during the 2018 Slamdance Film Festival in Park City.

Initially, Mag and Théo meet awkwardly rather than cutely after a hardcore gig. She starts busting on him for sporting a temporary tattoo, but then admits his artistry with eye-liner is quite impressive. Aside from some comical guilty pleasures, they mostly have the same taste in music. They are also unhappy outsiders, so a bond quickly forms. Even a ragingly uncomfortable morning after cannot derail their mutual attraction. However, their affair must presumably be finite, because Théo’s mother is relocating them in two weeks, from Montreal to his grown sister’s provincial digs.

Tattoos is sort of like a grungy, slacker teen Éric Rohmer movie, mostly in the best ways. Plante takes time to develop his primary characters and gives them scrupulously realistic but consistently meaningful dialogue to chew on. Plante recreates the same breathlessly intimate vibe and uses music to devastating effect, but as is sometimes the case with some works from the master of the Seasons and the Moral Tales, it is debatable whether Tattoos adds up to much when it is all said and done.

Still, Anthony Therrien and Rose-Marie Perreault rather brilliantly keep us focused on the present moment, every second of the way. They are utterly unaffected and completely believable as the young nearly-lovers, but it would be a disservice to suggest they are just playing themselves. Most eighteen or nineteen-year-olds lack this kind of emotional maturity. Their chemistry is also quite real and potent.

On some level, most folks will easily identify with this tale of underdog outsider romance. It is a small film, but it gets its hooks into viewers, evoking memories of summer love and missed opportunities. Recommended as a nice sleeper, Fake Tattoos screens again this Thursday (1/25), as part of this year’s Slamdance.

Feng Xiaogang’s Mysteriously Delayed Youth

It was a time of macro and micro bullying. In the waning years of the Cultural Revolution, He Xiaoping assumes the abuse she has endured all her life will stop once is accepted into a PLA dance troupe. Alas, social hierarchies are just as rigid within the ranks of the military company. As the daughter of an accused Rightist in a re-education camp, she still finds herself at the bottom of the pecking order. The friendships and rivalries within her troupe will span decades in Feng Xiaogang’s maybe not so mysteriously delayed Youth (trailer here), which is now playing in New York.

Feng has helmed some of Mainland China’s most patriotic blockbusters, so observers were surprised when Youth was suddenly pulled from its scheduled October 1^st release date. Some speculated the scenes of the never-spoken-of Sino-Vietnamese War were to blame, but it could just as easily be the frank depiction of Cultural Revolution’s injustices. Frankly, it is a miracle this film was allowed any kind of release whatsoever.

Indeed, for reasons that we eventually learn over time, the Cultural Revolution indirectly led to a rather rash act that immediately starts He off on the wrong foot with her more connected troupe-mates. Only the beloved Liu Feng (whose name is a play on that of propaganda martyr Lei Feng) ever shows her any compassion. Even the narrator, Xiao Suizi, is too timid to stand up for her, thereby risking social ostracism herself. Yet, that is precisely why Xiao rather than He is ultimately the film’s tragic figure.

Even after the Cultural Revolution ends with a whimper, the troupe is still caught up in dangerously tumultuous times. He will transfer to the nursing corps just in time to serve during the war with Vietnam. China would prefer to forget that one, but if reminded, they insist they were victorious, but the gore He witnesses suggests otherwise. Liu will also witness the horrors of war first-hand, thanks to a scandal that gets him cashiered out of the performance troupe.

In many ways, Youth is the film the respectable but over-hyped Testament of Youth was cracked up to be, but it is also much more. Despite the nostalgic tone, it clearly indicts modern China for deliberately turning its back on the service and sacrifice of Liu’s generation. However, at its most fundamental level, Youth is just an achingly sensitive coming of age drama. Even though very few viewers (even in China) will have served in PLA dance troupes, it will still evoke memories of boarding school, college, basic training, or whatever, when you were young and living amongst with a group of people your age. Some you liked, some you couldn’t stand, but you were all stuck going through the same things together.

Huang Xuan is still probably the best-known cast-member. He has been a solid and sometimes brave performer, especially in the films of Lou Ye, but his work as Liu is probably his most mature and fully dimensional performance yet. Miao Miao’s He is often so nakedly vulnerable, it is downright discomfiting to watch her. However, the greatest discovery might be the strikingly expressive Elane Zhong Chuxi as Xiao. Imagine having your heart-broken repeatedly by Nick Carraway in The Great Gatsby. That’s what her performance is like.

It is time for a major Feng Xiaogang retrospective. It is fair to say the political-ideological implications of Youth are complicated, which makes it interesting to unpack. It is also his follow-up to the absolutely exceptional I am not Madame Bovary, which was overtly critical of government corruption in China. Plus, his ostensibly larky Personal Tailor had some unexpected social commentary late in the third act. Could it be the man who helmed rah-rah films like Assembly, Back to 1942, and Aftershock is developing subversive tendencies? Whatever the cause, he is producing some of his best films.

Regardless of what it says about Feng continuing artistic evolution, Youth is a major film, from a major filmmaker. It is set against a sprawling canvas, but it has an exquisitely intimate feel, beautifully (Oscar-worthily) lensed by Luo Pan. Very highly recommended, Youth is now playing in New York, at the AMC Empire.

HIFF ’17: Yellow Fever

If MTV’s Daria Morgendorffer had been adopted in Korea, she would probably express many of the attitudes held by Asia Bradford. Yes, her parents named her Asia—clearly without consulting her first. She is so tired of the whole model minority, find a rich older white boyfriend thing. Nor has she any use for ethnic identity or the Ktown scene. However, an unlikely friend of the family might help her reconnect with her roots, or possibly poison her forever on all things Korean in Kat Moon’s Yellow Fever (clip here), which screens as part of the 2017 Hoboken International Film Festival (in New York).

Bradford lives with her Asian-obsessed, compulsively inclusive white-bread parents Michael and Li, along with her manga-addicted younger brother Taro in a tony Upper Eastside townhouse. Believe me, they are doing well if they have the room to put up her father’s prodigal best pal John Smart while he sells late mother’s suburban Jersey house. For years, Smart lived in Korea, trying to recover from a broken heart. It was Li Bradford who broke it.

Somehow, Smart and Asia Bradford recognize each other as kindred brooding souls. When he drags her to a real Korean restaurant she is stunned to discover she kind of likes it. He even manages to interest her in the language too. However, various jealousies and misunderstandings within the Bradford family will force Smart to move out before his closing.

Strangely, Moon shows a better handle on her WASPy characters than the abrasive Asia Bradford. Being sardonic is all well and good, but Bradford can really be a pill. On the other hand, Li and Michael are silly Upper Eastsiders, but in acutely human ways. Frankly, the film picks up in the second half, as their subplots expand.

In fact, Nahanni Johnstone and Michael Lowry are so good as the Bradfords, we care more about whether they will save their marriage than if Asia finally starts to find herself. Still, nobody can deny Jenna Ushkowitz has a facility with snark. As Asia, she also develops some effective chemistry with Scott Patterson’s deadpan world-weary Smart.

Despite some creepy awkward bits, Fever is a genuinely likable film that ties up all its loose ends in an entirely satisfying manner. In some ways, it is like an updated John Hughes movie for our times. It is worth noting Moon set the film in 2000, to take into account Korea’s late 1980s restrictions on international adoptions. It is not nearly as fun and nostalgic as Benson Lee’s Seoul Searching, but it is pleasant enough. Recommended for fans of hip UES coming of age dramedies, Yellow Fever screens this Wednesday (5/24) as part of the Hoboken International Film Festival, logically in Greenwood Lake, NY.

ND/NF ’17: The Summer is Gone

The sad truth is China has become far more oppressive than it was in the 1980s. It was not paradise, but you could breathe under Deng Xiaoping and Hu Yaobang (remember, it was the death of the latter, purged in 1986 that helped spark the Tiananmen Square protests). Things would take a turn for the worse in the 1990s, but a young boy growing up in Inner Mongolia is blissfully oblivious of the macro forces at work, at least until they directly intrude into his life in Zhang Dalei’s The Summer is Gone (trailer here), which screens during this year’s New Directors/New Films.

Young Zhang Xiaolei looks up to his father, Chen, whose work at a local film studio gets then admitted to the movies for free. He basically tolerates his school teacher mother Guo, because she is the practical one who worries about getting him admitted to a respectable middle school. He is small for his age, but he still enjoys a largely carefree summer. However, a chance encounter with a teenage bully stokes some unhealthy hero-worship in Zhang. His irresponsible nature will also finally start to try his parents’ patience as they struggle to care for his dying great-grandmother just as Chen loses his job in the first wave of state enterprise privatizations.

Summer boasts Tibetan auteur Pema Tseden as one of its producers, but it feels most aesthetically akin to the work of Edward Yang. You can feel the sun and humidity and smell the wild flowers through the starkly beautiful black-and-white cinematography of Lu Songye (who also lensed Tseden’s Tharlo). It is a coming-of-age story, but Zhang’s attitude towards the era is more bitterly elegiac than sentimentally nostalgic, essentially lamenting: “if only they had known what was in store for them.”

Much like Tseden, Zhang employs a “non-professional” cast of actors, who are really quite professional. As Zhang Xialoei, Kong Weiyi is convincingly bratty in a Huck Finn kind of way, but he also conveys great depth and sudden maturity when faced with personal disappointments and familial tribulations. Zhang Chen plays his father with slow-burning intensity, but it is Guo Yanyuan who really gives the film heart and soul as his quietly forceful, chronically under-appreciated mother.

Zhang’s postscript: “Dedicated to the generation that birthed ours” is a massively potent kicker, because it basically confirms the nature and frequency of sacrifices the third act implies are soon to be visited upon provincial families like Zhang Xiaolei’s. Yet, Zhang Dalei only blames himself (and his analog) for not making better use of the time they had. It is a film of exquisite sensitivity, but it is also surprisingly tough. Highly recommended for those who follow independent Chinese cinema and anyone who likes a good family drama, The Summer is Gone screens this Thursday (3/16) at the Walter Reade and Friday (3/17) at MoMA, as part of ND/NF 2017.

American Fable: Farm Subsidies and Other Crimes

Probably no profession carries as much extraneous romanticizing as the family farmer. Everyone assumes farming is inherited through the genes and if you were born on a plot of land than you are destined to work it. That almost sounds like serfdom. Meanwhile, nobody asks what all those price supports do for the cost of food for the urban working poor. Maybe Gitty’s father Abe was actually better suited to a different line of work, but he considers himself a born farmer. To save their ailing farm Abe and her brutish older brother Martin will entwine themselves in a risky criminal scheme in Anne Hamilton’s American Fable (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Gitty (short for Gertrude) idolizes her father Abe, but her mega-pregnant mother Sarah not so much—and her jerkheel brother even less so. Therefore, when she discovers a battered man evidently being held captive in their silo, the implications are quite troubling. Rather puzzlingly, he implores her not to speak to her father of him. Instead, he asks her to bring food and books, which she does.

He would be Jonathan, an agri-businessman, who is soon reported missing (under suspicious circumstance) on the local news. Not being an idiot, Gitty starts to suspect Honest Abe and Murderous Martin are behind his abduction, apparently in cahoots with a Cruella de Vil figure known as Vera. The more time she spends with the captive, the more she fears for his safety.

Coming-of-age sure can be disillusioning, can’t it? At eleven years-old, Gitty will have to choose between her soul and her family (and possibly her life). Given her circumstances, we can well understand why she has such surreal dreams. She is also prone to fall into bouts of symbolically laden reverie. Her subconscious takes special inspiration from chess pieces, but she seems to forget her father’s evocative tale of scarecrows (Chekhov would not approve).

Hamilton paid her first dues under Terence Malick’s tutelage and you can see his influence in her Andrew Wyeth-esque imagery. Frankly, there is a lot of Americana influencing Fable, including To Kill a Mockingbird and even Huck Finn. After all, Gitty must decide whether she will do the right thing, even though it runs counter to the class warfare values she has been inculcated in.

Peyton Kennedy is a forceful and relatively mature Scout Finch-figure, who holds up well under the film’s long, close-up scrutiny. Likewise, Richard Schiff is terrific as the hostage, conveying all due desperation, as well as his own compassion for the bullied and misunderstood Gitty. Gavin MacIntosh is just ridiculously hostile as Martin. It gets to the point we just can’t believe respectable parents like Abe and Sarah would put up with his abusive behavior. On the flipside, Kip Pardue’s Abe completely lacks the dark edge a desperate kidnapping accomplice really needs to have.

Hamilton allows Abe to misrepresent the Aesop fable of “The Lion & the Mouse,” presenting it, without correction, more in the spirit of “The Scorpion and the Frog,” which apparently dates back to Orson Welles in Mr. Arkadin. That poor lion gets slandered. Regardless, Fable features two excellent central performances, but the trappings are a tad over-stylized. Still, as debuts go, it shows promise. Recommended for fans of rural gothic, American Fable opens this Friday (2/17) in New York, at the IFC Center.

Spa Night: Teen Angst in Koreatown

If you know you’re going to be wrestling with your sexuality, you might as well get paid for it. Essentially, that is the decision David Cho makes when he takes a part-time job at an all-male spa in Koreatown. It draws traditional clients from the Korean-American community, who see the health spa as a place for a good scrub and the latest gossip, as well as multi-racial, multi-ethnic customers, who frequent the establishment to quietly prospect for sexual encounters. Cho has a foot in both worlds, which causes him considerable inner turmoil throughout Andrew Ahn’s Spa Night (trailer here), which opens today in New York, at the Metrograph.

Cho is gay (most likely), but he is only just starting to be honest with himself and he is not about to come out of the closet with his traditional Korean immigrant parents anytime soon. Rather inconveniently, this is not his most pressing problem. Cho always assumed he would be a good son by taking over the family restaurant, but when it shutters due to his father’s mismanagement, it leaves his future in a state of limbo. Suddenly, his parents’ expectations change drastically. Despite their precarious financial position, they expect him to become an overnight academic achiever, who can score a scholarship to USC. Unfortunately, he does not have the necessary grades and test scores, nor do his parents have the money for cram school, but they enroll him anyway.

Although Spa Night has frequently been positioned as a sexual coming of age story, it is really more about the disconnect between first and second generations within immigrant families. Sexual identity just happens to be a conspicuous wedge to potentially divide them. Yet, what makes the film so poignant is the compassion Cho shows for his problematic parents: his mother Soyoung tenaciously clinging to her dignity and his father Jin slowly succumbing to shame and desperation.

In any event, it is easy to see why Joe Seo won the Special Jury Award at this year’s Sundance for his lead performance. He avoids all the easy clichés, playing Cho as a confused but ever so human and humane plugger. He also has the perfect physicality, looking simultaneously nebbish and bulked up. He comes across as a man between worlds in every sense. Both Haerry Kim and Youn Ho Cho thoroughly humanize Soyoung and Jin Cho.

Granted, we basically know where this Theodore Dreiser-esque tale of family tribulation is headed every step of the way, but the maturity and fundamental decency of the performances still makes it feel fresh. It is a sad story, but it is not bereft of hope. (After the first twenty minutes, most viewers will have the same realization: this kid needs to move to New York ASAP). Recommended for those who appreciate a coming of age story with economic and sexual identification dimensions, Spa Night opens today (8/19), at the Metrograph.

NYAFF ’16: Yellow Flowers on Green Grass

Young love never ends well, but in this case, more than hearts get broken. Consider this fair warning: it will be downright painful to watch misunderstandings metastasize into corrosive jealousy. The results are tragic for two rural Vietnamese brothers in Victor Vu’s adaptation of Nguyen Nhat Anh’s YA novel, Yellow Flowers on Green Grass (trailer here), which screens during the 2016 New York Asian Film Festival.

Thieu is the older brother, but in many ways he is the more awkward and insecure one. Nevertheless, Tuong duly looks up to his older sibling and often covers for his mistakes. At least Thieu is an excellent student, who might be able to study his way to a better life. However, he is pretty clueless when it comes to girls. Everyone knows he has a crush on the somewhat younger but cherubically cute Moon. Yet, his early attempts to woo her are woefully embarrassing. Somehow he seems to make a little progress, until outside events get in the way.

Poor Moon is in for a rough patch. Her missing father is presumed to have contracted leprosy and her family’s home is damaged in a fire. When she temporarily moves in with Thieu’s family, it ought to be a golden opportunity for the love-struck lad. Instead, Moon’s rapport with the bratty Tuong, who happens to be closer to her age, leads to miscommunication and resentment on Thieu’s part.

Thanh Mỹ and Trọng Kang are so sweetly innocent looking as Moon and Tuong, it really hurts to watch them suffer Thieu’s escalating tantrums. Sadly though, it is all rather believable, thanks in large measure to Thinh Vinh’s agonizingly realistic lead performance. Yet, Vu and co-screenwriter Viet Linh allow for the possibility of hope and redemption through an escape hatch of apparent magical realism.

All the young cast-members of Yellow Flowers are frighteningly effective, including the three principals, as well as Mỹ Anh, who plays Nhi, a distressed young girl who happens to bear a close resemblance to Moon. They are always deeply in character, expressing some raw emotions. On the other hand, hardly any of the adults registers to any significant extent, but what can you expect? This film is W.C. Fields’ worst nightmare, except instead of a dog, Tuong has a pet toad.

Dramatically and aesthetically, Yellow Flowers is somewhat akin to the films of the Iranian New Wave. While it focuses on children, the themes and imagery are probably best appreciated by mature viewers. K’Linh Nguyen rich yet delicate lensing also brings to mind Mark Lee Ping-Bing’s masterful work with Tran Anh Hung, which is high praise indeed. Vu has had his share of controversies over the last few years, but he should rebound decisively with this pastoral fable. Recommended for those who appreciate the beauty in tragedy, Yellow Flowers on Green Grass screens tomorrow (7/2) at the Walter Reade, as part of this year’s NYAFF.

NYAFF ’16: What’s in the Darkness

Qu Jing’s coming-of-age story is sort of a Chinese To Kill a Mockingbird, but her father is no Atticus Finch. Nobody stands up for Qu Zhicheng, even though he is the only university educated cop on the provincial force. He would like to apply Western forensic techniques to their latest case, but they prefer to simply beat confessions out of the usual suspects. Of course, this leaves them ill-prepared to capture the serial rapist-murder terrorizing the community in Wang Yichun’s What’s in the Darkness (trailer here), which screens during the 2016 New York Asian Film Festival.

Qu Jing’s mother makes little effort to conceal her contempt for the Qu Zhicheng, but she married him anyway, because he helped her survive the Cultural Revolution. To some extent, Qu’s father never really left those times. He is still preparing for the next famine. Lacking perspective, Qu Jing equates his thrifty hoarding with embarrassing stinginess. However, they share a similarly macabre curiosity that leads them to both investigate the serial murders, in their very different ways.

While her father chafe’s under the Party’s policies and bureaucracy, Qu Jing’s inquiry is dominated by her awakening sexual confusion. Her suspicions first turn towards a dirty old man she encountered when her school ensemble performed for a senior center. As the mystery drags on, she will get sidetracked by her frienemy relationship with the more sexually confident Zhang Xue and the relatively innocent overtures of Han Jian. Unfortunately, the Qus’ inquiries intersect with the discovery of a badly decomposed body assumed to be that of the long missing Zhang.

Most of the Party’s institutions really take it in the shins during Darkness, including the corrupt and incompetent cops, the stultifying schools, and the absurdly strident propaganda. Unlike other films that have critiqued the Party’s venal graft, Wang really calls out their hypocritical Puritanism. For instance, when the police bust a group of teenagers watching a western style dirty movie, they can hardly wait to review the evidence—and you know what that means.

Su Xiaotong is a heck of a revelation in the pre-pubescent Scout Finch role. It is hard to imagine a more emotional complex and contradictory role for a pre-teen. Despite her character’s reserve, she projects a full range of feelings, as well as a constant sense of the girl’s natural intelligence (that even years of Communist propaganda and pedagogy have yet to dull). Likewise, Guo Xiao makes her ostensibly cringe-worthy father a figure of high tragedy, while Lu Qiwei exudes dangerous sexuality as Zhang Xue.

From time to time, Wang gets indecisively stuck in-between genres, but then there are scenes that literally reverberate with cultural and historical significance. It is a bold film, anchored by Su’s shockingly mature performance. Altogether it is quite an impressive debut for Wang and her youthful lead. Highly recommended, What’s in the Darkness screens tomorrow (6/27) at the Walter Reade, as part of this year’s NYAFF.

Obayashi at the Japan Society: Bound for the Fields, the Mountains and the Seacoast

It is like the Little Rascals, but with white slavery. Although best known for the lunacy of House, Nobuhiko Obayashi can do it all, but he puts his unique stamp on whatever genre he takes on. On the surface, this film might resemble a shomin-geki (“home drama”) much like Ozu’s I was Born but . . ., but the primary school students eventually band together in hopes of saving the village bully’s stepsister from being sold into prostitution. Imperial pre-war societal values take it in the shins during Obayashi’s Bound for the Fields, the Mountains and the Seacoast, which screens during the Japan Society’s Obayashi retrospective.

Sudo Sotaro is the sort of annoying brat who always encourages mischief, but always manages to look innocent when their teacher eventually tries to re-establish some discipline. Transfer student Sakae Ohsugi isn’t having any of it. He intends to make Sotaro pay for all the trouble he causes. However, the older boy’s beautiful step-sister Shoucho takes a shine to Sotaro and tries to broker peace between them. It will take quite a while and an extended sequence of war games before the two rivals finally bury the hatchet. Eventually, they will make common cause when Ohsugi’s sleazy parents sell Shoucho to the local brothel.

Naturally, Shoucho is quite popular in town. The local recruiting officer has his own designs on her, but she has fallen for the village’s conscientious objector. Unfortunately, the two of them do not exactly make a power couple. That is why Sotaro must take matters into his own hands.

Bound functions quite well as a coming of age story most viewers will easily relate to, even though few of us ever prosecuted a war against a mobbed-up bordello when we were ten. Obayashi occasionally gives the film a wild stylistic twist, but he is always scrupulously restrained compared to the bedlam in House. Still, Bound never looks like the work of a shy filmmaker, especially down the stretch. Nor is he subtle in his critique of imperial militarism or the middle class timidity he clearly blames for allowing its rise.

There is no doubt Obayashi came to play, as did the wildly charismatic Yasufumi Hayashi, who brings boundless energy to the wide-eyed Sotaro. Isako Washio is not exactly the dead ringer for Setsuko Hara some descriptions suggest, but she has a similarly radiant warmth on-screen. She makes the tragedy of Bounds exquisitely so. Jun’ichrȏ Katagiri’s Ohsugi slow burns impressively for his age, but he is no match for either Hayashi or Washio, who have him bookended on both sides of the acting spectrum.

It is impossible to imagine a coming of age film like Bound getting produced in 1980s Hollywood. The general tone is not unlike Lord of the Flies, but with clueless John Hughes adults ineffectually wandering about. Yet, it is an oversimplification to argue the children should be in charge, because they do not do much better amongst themselves. Darkly distinctive and compelling, yet always strangely entertaining, Bound for the Fields, the Mountains and the Seacoast is a rather amazing film. Very highly recommended, fans of House (which duly kicks off the series this Friday) should see it while they have the chance. It screens this Saturday (11/21) at the Japan Society in New York.

HIFF ’15: How to Win at Checkers (Every Time)

Thailand is one of the most tolerant Southeast Asian nations of same-sex relationships. They also have a long tradition of transgender acceptance, although redlight district stereotypes remain an issue. In 2005, the government lifted the ban on LGBT soldiers in the military. That sounds progressive, but Ek would have preferred the old, unenlightened system. As the primary support of his bratty younger brother, he cannot afford the honor of conscription. Nor can he bribe his way out, like his well healed boyfriend. Corruption rather than discrimination is the driving issue of Texas-born Josh Kim’s How to Win at Checkers (Every Time), Thailand’s official foreign language Oscar submission, which screens during the 2015 Hawaii International Film Festival (trailer here).

The checkers-playing Ek and Oat were orphaned by their father’s untimely death, but they have each other. They also have a place to stay with their Aunt and her mischievous daughter Kwan, but she depends on Ek to cover the boys’ expenses. He is in a committed long-term relationship with his former classmate Jai, but if you think that is going to last, you haven’t seen very many social issue dramas. We can tell from the confusing framing device, something tragic will befall Ek, but an embittered Oat will survive and thrive.

The impending draft lottery looks like the destabilizing event. The stealthy Oat knows Jai’s parents have bought his way out of service, which means there will be one less black card in the hat for Ek to pick. If he pulls out red, it means two years fighting insurgents. Frankly, it is a bizarre ritual they presumably stage because of its ostensive transparency, but when the fix is in, everyone can tell.

It is interesting to see a film with LGBT relationships front-and-center, in which sexuality is not an issue. Even the crooked old officers running the rigged lottery seem perfectly accepting of Ek and Jai’s transgender friend Kitty (perhaps, unfortunately so). Things might not be perfect, but Thai society certainly appears healthier than fundamentalist Iran, which the Obama administration is damned and determined to make a nuclear power, or notoriously homophobic Cuba, which it can’t wait to normalize relations with. Yet, the administration has put the deep freeze on U.S.-Thai relations following the military coup and partial power-sharing arrangement.

Regardless, the young cast is remarkably accomplished and utterly natural on screen. Thira Chutikul does a heck of a slow burn as Ek, while Natarat Lakha shows real star power as the protective Kitty. However, young Ingkarat Damrongsakkul really carries the dramatic load as Oat. It is his coming-of-age story, and he makes every wince-inducing moment of it all too believable.

Aside from the off-key wrap-arounds (the problem perhaps being all grown-up and jaded Oat looks like he is maybe thirteen years old), Kim’s execution is remarkably sure-footed. He clearly prefers small telling moments to big melodramatic explosions, for which we’re grateful. Kim also shrewdly employs and contrasts rural and urban settings for atmospheric effect. It is a nice film that should have more mainstream appeal than a thumbnail sketch would suggest. Recommended for those who appreciate the coming-of-age genre, How to Win at Checker (Every Time) screens this Friday (11/13), next Friday (11/20), and the following Saturday (11/21) at this year’s HIFF.

Twenty: Time to Grow Up, Amigos

It is an uncertain age for guys in South Korea, typically coming after high school, but before their expected military service. It is particularly awkward for these three chums, because everything is. Somehow they will mature a little over the course of Lee Byeong-hun’s Twenty (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

They never had much in common beyond a general horniness, but that was enough for a fast friendship when Chi-ho, Dong-woo, and Gyeong-jae met John Hughes-style. After graduation, Chi-ho becomes a lay-about, only aspiring to seduce an older sugar-mommy. Dong-woo retakes senior year in hopes of scoring better university test scores the second time around. Although not an uncommon practice in the ROK, it is a luxury he can no longer afford when his family’s fortunes precipitously decline. A born plugger, Gyeong-jae enters university hoping it will be a stepping stone to a prestigious corporate gig.

These plans, such as they are, will be complicated by romantic entanglements. Chi-ho will taste some of his own medicine when he develops an ambiguously romantic relationship with Eun-hye, a starlet with more ambition than talent. At least it is a more reciprocal arrangement than Gyeong-jae’s torch-carrying for Jin-ju, an out-of-his-league senior in his campus investment club. Working several part-time jobs to support his family, Dong-woo is initially annoyed by the advances of Gyeong-jae’s sister So-hee, but the high school senior is persistent.

Frankly, it is all even more complicated than that, but screenwriter-director Lee rather dexterously juggles the many subplots and extensive cast of characters. He also nimbly walks a fine line, giving the lads serious enough issues so that there are real stakes involved, but never letting the film get so heavy it craters into melodramatic or after-school special terrain. Kang Hyeong-chul’s monster hit Sunny, which Lee co-wrote, is a somewhat apt comparative film in terms of tone, but he displays a much lighter touch for his directorial debut.

In contrast, the sizable ensemble is less consistent. Arguably, Kim Woo-bin shows the greatest range and charisma as the entitled Chi-ho, whereas both Lee Joon-ho and Kang Ha-neul are a bit too passive and sometimes even a little flat as Dong-woo and Gyeong-jae, respectively. Lee Yoo-bi and Jung So-min add some nice energy as little sister So-hee and Chi-ho’s neglected pseudo-girlfriend So-min, but some of the assorted love interests are cold and detached to a problematic extent. However, Oh Hyun-kyung completely subverts sentimental stereotypes and steals most of her scenes as Dong-woo’s brutally honest and direct mother.

You do not often see American studio films that so freely combine comedy and young anxiety. Again, maybe think of some of the films we assume John Hughes directed, but he really only wrote and produced, like Pretty in Pink and Some Kind of Wonderful. Twenty skews a little older and little sillier, but American teens would probably love it if they were bold enough to give it a try. It is surprisingly endearing, but not overly desperate to be loved. Recommended for fans of Korean rom-coms and coming-of-age films, Twenty opens tomorrow in New York, at the AMC Empire.

HIFF ’14: Meeting Dr. Sun

Evidently, Taipei high school kids are unusually well informed about the going rates for scrap metal. It is too bad there isn’t some sort of Junior Achievement to channel Lefty’s enterprising impulses. Instead, he will hatch a strange shaggy dog heist caper to liquidate a national symbol. Oddly enough, he will have to contend with a rival high school mastermind in Yee Chih-yen’s Meeting Dr. Sun (trailer here), which screens today during the 2014 Hawaii International Film Festival.

The Clifford Odetts-esquely named Lefty and his three friends must constantly evade school bullies because they cannot afford to pay their “fees” for the term. However, Lefty thinks he may have stumbled across the answer to their problems. In a dusty storeroom he spied a cast-off cast-iron statue of Dr. Sun Yat-sen. If they sold it for scrap they could pay off all their dubious dues and then some, without anyone at school missing it. The trick would be transporting the heavy statue, but Lefty is a budding master of logistics. The more pressing challenge will come from Sky, a fellow schoolmate whom Lefty learns is also planning his own statue heist.

Lefty soon confronts Sky arguing his desperate financial circumstances should give him first dibs on Dr. Sun. They duly proceed with a “poor-off,” which Sky wins thanks to his abusive and disorderly father. Lefty tries to forge an alliance with Sky, but finds himself double-crossed instead. He might be too trusting, but he is not a quitter, convincing his mates to crash Sky’s job.

Meeting is considerably more Stand by Me than The Italian Job, but the extended caper sequence is very cleverly staged. Yee dexterously juggles eight teens in anime masks running amuck and confusing themselves silly. It is a great comedic action centerpiece, but it is embedded in elegantly sad coming of age story. For Yee the hard fact is Lefty and Sky consider their lives predestined by class and see no solutions aside from their unlikely criminal schemes.

The young ensemble looks impressively natural on camera, especially Zhan Huai-yun as the earnest and sensitive Lefty. Wei Han-ting counterbalances him well enough as the intense and taciturn Sky, but his slow boil is almost too self-contained and cold blooded for the character’s own good. On the other hand, Joseph Chang and Gina Li offer up some manic but not cringy comic cameos as the school’s security guard and his girlfriend, who will struggle with the competing gangs’ wild improvising.

Thanks to the disciplined teen cast, Nick Chou’s nostalgic but supportive piano score, and cinematographer Chen Ta-pu’s dark shadows and warm color palate, Meeting often feels somewhat akin to Kore-eda’s films. It offers some pointed social criticism, but the eccentric caper plot makes it all highly watchable. Thematically and stylistically, it would make a highly compatible double feature with Chang Jung-chi’s even darker Partners in Crime, which also screens during the festival. Recommended for those who enjoy deterministic social dramas with a flair for the absurd, Meeting Dr. Sun screens tonight (11/1) and this Friday (11/7) as part of this year’s HIFF, with subsequent screenings scheduled the following Sunday (11/9) and Tuesday (11/11) during the 2014 San Diego Asian Film Festival.

AAIFF ’14: A Time in Quchi

There is a different rhythm to life in the Quchi countryside. Chang Tso-chi acclimates viewers to it far quicker than his ten year old protagonist. Kuan Hsiao-pao is used to Taipei’s high speed internet, but a summer spent with his traditional grandfather will have lasting significance in Chang’s A Time in Quchi (trailer here), which screens during this year’s Asian American International Film Festival in New York.

At this point, Kuan is used to his parents’ chaos, so their likely divorce is not exactly shocking. He will spend his summer vacation with his paternal grandfather, so his folks will have more time to quarrel, but he is rather put off by the old man’s highly structured lifestyle. He is also less than thrilled when his chop-busting younger sister “Seaweed” arrives sometime later.

Since this is Taiwan, kids still go to school even during summer vacation, so Kuan is duly enrolled at the village primary school. Not surprisingly, he is initially rather standoffish, but Kuan soon forms his first real friendship with Huang Ming-chuan, an aboriginal classmate. Unfortunately, just as Kuan embraces Quchi, tragedy strikes.

Quchi is a subtle and wistful coming of age story that showcases some extraordinarily natural young actors. However, it must be completely compartmentalized from Chang, who is essentially the Taiwanese Polanski, except he is not being sheltered from justice by the French government. Frankly, it is a little creepy to realize the incident he was convicted for occurred at a party for Quchi, but that is not the fault of Yang Liang-yu and his co-stars.

While Yang’s work might be too understated for those who like to bring their Fault in Our Stars branded hanky to the movies, he keeps what could have been a saccharine melodrama feel mature and grounded. He also rather graciously allows Lin Ya-jo to steal all of Seaweed’s scenes. Nonetheless, it is veteran actor-screenwriter Kuan Yun-lung (a.k.a. Kuan Kuan) who really gives the film its heart and integrity as the gruff but wise grandfather.

Even at the height of young Kuan’s city slicker culture shock, he can appreciate the natural beauty of Quchi’s rivers and foothills. Cinematographer Yuan Ching-kuo certainly did as well. Visually, it is a much more arresting, big canvas film than you would expect from the coming-of-age genre. It represents nice work from a large cast and creative crew that should not be tarnished by Chang’s subsequent scandal. Recommended for those who appreciate quiet but telling family dramas, A Time in Quchi screens this coming Monday (7/28) at the Village East, as part of the 2014 AAIFF.

NYAFF ’14 & Japan Cuts ’14: Wood Job!

Yoki Iida is a forester and he’s okay. Yuki Hirano is a forestry-trainee and he’s a mess. Trees will chopped, fish will be out of water, and lessons will be gently learned in Shinobu Yaguchi’s Wood Job! (trailer here), which screens as a joint presentation of the 2014 New York Asian Film Festival and Japan Cuts.

After failing his university entrance exams and getting dumped by his girlfriend, Hirano does what any slacker would do. He applies for a “green job.” His real motivation is the pretty girl on the cover of the forestry brochure. However, it turns out forestry involves real work—something Hirano was never any good at. Yet, just when he is primed to desert, he runs into Naoki Ishii, the forestry covergirl. Evidently, she was never a student, but she once dated one. Frankly, she is rather annoyed to see her picture still in circulation and thinks even less of scammers like Hirano, who enroll hoping to put the moves on her.

However, Ishii’s telling off has a perversely motivating effect on Hirano. He sticks out the training program and accepts a yearlong apprenticeship in her remote lumber village. Of course, Hirano still has a lot to learn about the forest. His boss, the gruff but gruff Iida is not very impressed, but the mismatched mentor and protégé slowly start to grow on each other.

Will honest, hearty country living finally win over Hirano? Will he ever win over Ishii? Do you want to see grown men wearing a thong-sash during their Burning Man forest rituals? If you answered yes to that last one, Wood Job is definitely the film for you.

Granted, writer-director Yamaguchi follows a pretty well established formula. One could consider it Japan’s teenage/early adult Northern Exposure with lumber. Nevertheless, his mastery of mood and keen visual sense elevates it well above standard Doc Hollywood terrain. While mostly grounded, there is one particularly striking excursion into magical realism Yamaguchi executes with graceful understatement. He also gives viewers very practical instructions in proper tree-chopping technique. Seriously, you will think you can actually do this stuff after seeing the film.

Shota Sometani’s Hirano is a bit of a goof and a goon, but he portrays his maturation with a fair degree of subtlety. As Ishii, Masami Nagasawa brings some healthy verve and attitude, while developing nice Fleischman-O’Connell chemistry with Hirano. In contrast, Hideaki Ito is pure mountain man as Iida.

Somehow Yamaguchi is able to convey the sensation of that crisp mountain air. He is not afraid of a little sentiment either—and why should he, anyway? It is all quite a sweet, sure-footed, ax-wielding coming of age film that gets steadily more inviting as it progresses. Recommended for fans of bittersweet romantic comedies, Wood Job! screens tomorrow (7/13) at the Japan Society, as a joint selection of this year’s NYAFF and Japan Cuts: the New York Festival of Contemporary Japanese Film.

New Filipino Cinema ’14: Anita’s Last Cha-Cha

There is definitely a Summer of ’42 vibe going on here, but there are also key differences. For one thing, it is set in the Philippines and it is a shy tomboy who develops a crush deeper than mere puppy love on the village’s scandalous beauty. Love hurts in Sigrid Andrea P. Bernardo’s Anita’s Last Cha-Cha (trailer here), which screens during New Filipino Cinema 2014 at the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts in San Francisco.

As a twelve year old girl, it is only natural Anita would have trouble relating to her strict mother, ironically named Lolita, but the tensions between them have gotten even worse since her beloved father passed away one year ago. She is relatively happy playing kids’ games with the husky Goying and the future diva, Carmen, but she knows she wants something different.

She recognizes it when she first sees Pilar, a striking woman with a notorious past. After ten years living in Manila, she has returned to their northern hamlet. Anita’s mother does not think much of Pilar, but her friends are intrigued by her air of mystery, while she is downright smitten. However, unbeknownst to Anita, Pilar was once romantically linked to her cousin Oscar and has eyes to rekindle their affair.

Although Cha-Cha is likely to find most of its programming love on the GLBT festival circuit, it will still hold the interest of viewers (or at least guys) who are as straight as a rail, thanks to model-turned-thesp Angel Aquino’s dramatic presence. She has an earthy sexuality that makes an impression, but she also shows some nice comedic chops in Anita’s over-the-top fantasy interludes.

Yet, it is new-comer Teri Malvar who is really the film’s lead. She is terrifically likable and expressive, conveying all that tweener awkwardness. If she wants, she could have a long screen career ahead of her. In fact, Bernardo shows an assured touch (or a run of good luck) when it comes to eliciting strong performances from her young cast-members. As the bratty but fundamentally sweet-natured Carmen and Goying, both Len-Len Frial and Solomon Mark De Guzman are pretty spot-on.

Frankly, Cha-Cha’s most conspicuous shortcomings are Bernardo’s flawed wrap-around segments framing the guts of the film. Indeed, the intro (featuring the adult Anita serving as a drill instructor) is inappropriately jokey and cheap looking, whereas the coda lays on the running-through-fields-of-clover fantasy sequences far too heavily.

Nevertheless, Barnardo is quite surefooted avoiding didacticism. The drama here revolves around the universal experience of deeply digging someone, who does not return or even recognize that ardor. It is a serious bummer, but that happens in life. A modest but sensitive tale of youthful love, Anita’s Last Cha-Cha is recommended for those appreciate coming of age films of all stripes when it screens this Saturday night (6/14) as part of the YBCA’s annual New Filipino Cinema series.

In Bloom: Submitted By Georgia

It is the early 1990’s and teenaged Georgian Girls just what to have fun. Unfortunately, Georgia is not a very fun place, combining the rationing of Communism with the lawlessness of a rogue state. Nevertheless, two fourteen year old school chums will try to get on with their lives as best they can in Nana Ekvtimishvili & Simon Gross’s In Bloom (trailer here), Georgia’s official foreign language Oscar submission, which opens this Friday in New York.

Eka Khizanishvili is shier but perhaps wiser than her more socially confident best friend, Natia Zaridze.  Neither has an ideal family life.  For Khizanishvili, home is a cold place, where she is largely ignored by her contemptuous older sister and preoccupied mother.  Her father is conspicuously absent for reasons that will eventually be revealed.  In contrast, Zaridze’s parents are constantly battling each other, not so subtly paralleling the wider civil strife of the era.

Zaridze also has one too many suitors: the comparatively sensitive Lado and the knuckle-dragging Kote.  Unfortunately, in her social milieu, courtship is less about wooing and more about taking. Yet it is Khizanishvili who is more troubled by their expected gender roles than the more directly affected Zaridze.  There also happens to be a gun, a love offering from Lado, passing back and forth between the tweens.

To a large extent, In Bloom simple revisits the familiar working class angst some festivals never tire of programming.  There are no surprises really anywhere in the film, but it has its moments.  In a defining standout scene, Khizanishvili appeases her friend by dancing at her wedding.  While her movements are sufficiently correct to please the revelers, her penetrating eyes betray all her misgivings.  It might actually be too well staged and performed, because the rest of the film cannot match its power.

Still, Lika Babluani and Mariam Bokeria are remarkably expressive and convincingly natural as Khizanishvili and Zaridze, respectively.  They look and sound like impulsive schoolgirls, forced by circumstances to mature beyond their years.  They own the movie in full, even though the entire ensemble fit their roles like grubby, well-patched Communist era gloves.

Despite their deliberate pace, Ekvtimishvili & Gross are a tad unfocused, veering between gender and class-based issue dramas.  Babluani and Bokeria are both enormous young talents, arguably more deserving of the praise heaped on the Blue is the Warmest Color duo, but the narrative is simply too drearily familiar.  There are memorably elements here, but they never really come together.  For the Georgian expat community, it opens this Friday (1/10) in New York at the Angelika Film Center.