If
Hsiao-kang is like Tsai Ming’s Antoine Doinel, than this would be his 400 Blows. However, unlike Truffaut’s
pseudo-alter-ego, Hsiao-kang is already a completely disillusioned young man
before we ever meet him Tsai’s feature debut. He is not alone. Just about everyone
is disenchanted and dissatisfied with their lives, yet they continue in a hazy
state of languor throughout Tsai’s breakout contemporary classic Rebels of the Neon God (trailer here), which finally
gets a legit theatrical release this Friday in New York.
It
is 1992. You can still find phone booths and coin operated video game arcades
in Taipei. In fact, boosting change from pay phones is a specialty of low life
thieves Ah-tze and Ah-ping. They will unknowingly cross paths with cram school
drop-out Hsiao-kang, who starts shadowing the former, after the surly punk
intentionally bashes the side mirror of the cab driven by Hsiao-kang’s father.
Frankly,
it is not as if the father and son are particularly close. In all honesty, their
relationship is so strained, Hsiao-kang’s more indulgent mother becomes
convinced her son is the reincarnation of Nezha, the Neon God, who tried to
kill his adoptive human father. Needless to say, Hsiao-kang and his father do
not see it that way. Nevertheless, when Hsiao-kang recognizes Ah-tze, he
obsessively follows the sociopathic youth. Already living a marginalized
existence, the petty thief crashes in a dingy flat that constantly floods and
seems determined to sabotage his ambiguous romantic relationship with Ah-kuei,
a pretty bowling alley attendant. Unfortunately, Hsiao-kang will bring a fresh
serving of trouble at an especially inopportune moment for Ah-tze.
Appropriately
filled with neon lights and rain-glistening streets, Rebels has a deeply urban sensibility. Ironically, Ah-tze never recognizes
the nebbish Hsiao-kang, despite their frequently close proximity. Instead, it
is Ah-tze who recognizes oblivious Hsiao-kang’s father when he forced to hail
his cab under hectic circumstances, late in the third act.
Throughout
Rebels, one can see Tsai’s kinship to
fellow countryman filmmaker, Hou Hsiao-hsien. While Tsai’s cinema would get
slower, certain hallmarks remain, including his touchstone character. As much
an anti-hero as an everyman, Hsiao-kang would resurface in many subsequent Tsai
films, including Vive L’Amour and What Time is it There?, which invites
open comparison to the Doinel films with its frequent 400 Blows references and a genuinely touching rather than gimmicky
cameo appearance from the distinguished Jean-Pierre Léaud, himself.
Rebels also represents
the continuation of a beautiful working relationship between Tsai and actor Lee
Kang-sheng, following his work in a short film the director made for Taiwanese television.
In addition to his numerous turns as Hsiao-kang, he also appears as the monk in
Tsai’s Walker experimental films, and
directed his director in the best segment of the anthology film Taipei 24H. As Hsiao-kang, his signature
role, Lee is weirdly disconcerting. He is shy in a passive aggressive manner.
He is a put-upon sad sack, yet Lee always hints at something dark and dangerous
buried deep within his psyche.
Despite
her impossibly short Daisy Dukes, the emotional nuance and vulnerability of
Wang Yu-wen’s performance as Ah-kuei is quite remarkable. While Tsai uses her
as a symbol of neediness (decked out in striking red), Wang gives her soul and
substance. Likewise, veteran martial arts character actor Tien Miao elevates
Hsiao-kang’s father well above and beyond mere Freudian caricature, which also helps
set up What Time is it There?, in
which Hsiao-kang struggles to come to terms with his recent death.
