AAIFF ’09: Pastry (and The Eighteenth Birthday Party)

Movie goers well understand the sort of emotional nourishment to be had from sweet confections. In Hong Kong, the simple egg tart can do wonders for young Mui as she watches her four older sisters struggle with difficult marriages and disastrous romances in Risky Liu’s Pastry (trailer here), which screened on the concluding day of the 2009 Asian American International Film Festival.

Mui’s father slips out to the movies on the mornings of his first two daughters’ weddings, yet he always makes it to the church on time. Young Mui is simply waiting for the egg tarts to be served. There is undeniable merit to both their approaches to wedding day festivities/angst. Unfortunately, relationships will prove increasingly problematic for the younger sisters, but at least the family’s neighborhood café is always open, serving their beloved “Portuguese tarts.”

With its bittersweet mix of love and food, Pastry would sound tailor-made for the American indie market. However, it is a much more down-to-earth screen story, portraying characters free of the forced quirkiness of most foodie films, despite director Liu’s whimsical flourishes that often seem at odds with his largely serious material. Mui’s family must face legitimate, every-day problems that are not always resolved entirely happily. Still, even in a highly imperfect world, it seems hard to believe the five attractive sisters keep getting involved with such losers.

Mui herself has a waifish Amelie-like charm, but matures in realistic ways as the film progresses. Based on the work of writer Chan Wei, Pastry gives a slice-of-life flavor of turn-of-the-millennium post-transfer Hong Kong that de-emphasizes politics, aside from showing news footage of Chris Patten, the final British Governor, triumphantly returning on a book signing tour to enjoy some of those egg tarts.

The cornerstone of Pastry is a quite touching connection between Mui and her father. Ironically, it was preceded by Ching-Shen Chuang’s narrative short, The Eighteenth Birthday Party, which features a horrifyingly dysfunctional father-daughter relationship. A weird epistolary film that veers into gothic territory, the disconcerting Birthday boasts a subtly powerful performance from its lead as Emma, a beautiful young woman, kept physically and emotionally isolated by her twisted father. It was the best narrative short of an incomplete sampling of AAIFF’s shorts and one of the best shorts seen in on the New York festival circuit in recent months. Together with Pastry, it made a memorable for a memorable block of programming

AAIFF ’09: White on Rice

Through an incredible forty-eight films, Japanese audiences enjoyed the amorous misadventures of the lovable loser Tora-san and his long suffering family. During his pre-screening introduction at this year’s Asian American International Film Festival, actor Hiroshi Watanabe explained the example of Tora-san inspired his performance as Hajime “Jimmy” Beppu, the luckless protagonist of Dave Boyle’s White on Rice (trailer here).

After his divorce, “Jimmy” has been living with his sister Aiko, sleeping in the bunk-bed above his nephew, Bob. Aiko and Bob are relatively okay with the situation, but his brother-in-law Tak is running out of patience. Supposedly looking for a new wife, Jimmy thinks he has found her when Tak’s niece Ramona temporarily moves in with the happy family, even though he would indeed technically be her uncle as well.

“Jimmy” knows a lot about dinosaurs, but he is out of his depth romancing Ramona. Of course, a series of misadventures follow, which threaten to completely destabilize Aiko’s household. Will Jimmy finally grow up and get the girl? Tora-san spent forty-eight studio films looking for love, can Jimmy pull it off in one indie?

Rice is at least as amusing as most Hollywood comedies and about ten times funnier than the average Judd Apatow movie of the week. Watanabe hits the right endearingly goofy notes as Uncle Jimmy, despite the creepy Woody Allen nature of his character’s romantic obsession. Japanese actress Nae lights up the screen as Jimmy’s indulgent sister, showing an easy rapport with Watanabe. However, Mio Takada and Justin Kwong do what they can as Tak and Bob respectively, but the parts are somewhat underwritten, relying on the stereotypes of workaholic father and over-achieving secret prodigy.

Boyle and Joel Clark’s screenplay has a fair number of laughs, some of which are surprisingly large, but the humor never veers too far into gross-out territory. Likewise, as the family pulls together, the film essentially avoids overly saccharine sentimentality. Still, Rice has some credibility issues, like when Jimmy spurns the advances of Mary (a.k.a. Banana Girl), who as played by Joy Osmanski, is at least as attractive as his niece-by-marriage.

Rice keeps things quick and breezy, wrapping things in just under ninety manageable minutes. If not the deepest film of the year, it was a nicely comedic diversion amongst the serious dramas and documentaries programmed at the 2009 AAIFF, which concludes today with another full day of screenings.

AAIFF ’09: Tibet in Song

It can honestly be said Ngawang Choephel’s first documentary was over six and a half years in the making. That is how long he was unjustly imprisoned by the Chinese for the crime of recording traditional Tibetan folk songs. Of course, they called it espionage. What started as an endeavor in ethnomusicology became a much more personal project for Ngawang, ultimately resulting in Tibet in Song, which recently screened at the Asian American International Film Festival.

Though born in Tibet, Ngawang had lived in exile with his mother since the age of two. However, attending the Dalai Lama’s Tibetan Institute of Performing Arts instilled in Ngawang a passion for the traditional music of his country that would temporarily cost him his liberty. Though his mother strenuously advised against it, Ngawang returned to Tibet in hopes of documenting the traditional songs before they were completely lost to posterity.

In Lhasa, Ngawang discovered the unofficial Chinese prohibitions against Tibetan cultural, religious, or linguistic identity had largely succeeded. However, like a Tibetan Alan Lomax, he found some people in provinces, usually the older generations, who were willing to be filmed as they sang and played the music of their ancestors. And then a funny thing happened on the road to Dawa.

Suddenly, Ngawang was arrested and his film was confiscated. For years he endured the abuse of a Communist prison, where he still persisted in learning and singing traditional Tibetan songs. Eventually, the Chinese government relented to the pressure of a remarkable international campaign spearheaded by Ngawang’s mother, releasing the filmmaker, who would finally finish a very different film from what he presumably envisioned.

Song is a remarkable documentary in many ways. It all too clearly illustrates the unpredictable nature of nonfiction filmmaking, as events take a dramatic turn Ngawang was surely hoping to avoid. The film also documents the Communist government’s chilling campaign to obliterate one of the world’s oldest cultures. Particularly disturbing to Ngawang are the ostensive Tibetan cultural revues mounted by the Chinese government that feature plenty of party propaganda but no legitimate Tibetan music. In Orwellian terms, they represent an effort to literally rewrite Tibetan culture.

What starts as a reasonably interesting survey of Tibetan song becomes a riveting examination of the occupied nation. Ngawang and the other former Tibetan prisoners he interviews have important stories to tell, and indeed the significance of song is a theme many of them express. It was an excellent selection for the 2009 Asian American International Film Fest that deserves significant theatrical distribution. The AAIFF continues this weekend with full days of programming today and Sunday.

AAIFF ’09: Fruit Fly

If you envision the Broadway show Rent without the tragedy, you will have a pretty good sense of H.P. Mendoza’s latest movie musical. It might be set in San Francisco’s Castro District instead of Alphabet City, but the Bohemian spirit is the same in Fruit Fly (trailer here), the closing feature of the 2009 Asian American International Film Festival (which starts tonight with Ivy Ho’s excellent Claustrophobia).

In the film, “Fruit Fly” is suggested as a less derogatory term for a woman who befriends gay men almost exclusively. Bethesda suddenly finds it applied to her, after moving to San Francisco and becoming fast friends with her gay roommate Windham and his circle. They do not break it to her gently either, explaining it to her in a song with the more traditional soubriquet “Fag Hag.”

After a sojourn in the Philippines, Bethesda has come to town in hopes of mounting her one-woman performance-art piece about her search for her birth mother. Almost everyone staying in Bethesda’s Real World-like house harbors artistic ambitions, inspiring some amusing cynicism from their decidedly un-hippy landlord, Tracy.

While Mendoza was the composer, lyricist, and screenwriter for the Indie circuit favorite Colma: the Musical, he also takes the directorial reins in Fly. Musically, the results are a little uneven. Frankly, the intentionally comedic songs are not particularly memorable. However, it starts with an enjoyably upbeat opener, “Public Transit,” and can claim at least one legitimate standout song, “You Do This for a Reason,” that should become an anthem for frustrated artists everywhere.

Despite her character’s many annoying moments, L.A. Renigen shows an easy likability and decent vocal chops as Bethesda. Her housemates are more of a mixed bag though. Some turn in quite solid supporting work, like E.S. Park and Theresa Navarro as the resident lesbian couple, while others do not acquit themselves as well. However, there are some truly rich comedic performances by Don Wood as the crusty landlord and Christina Augello as the bane of his existence: “Dirty Judy,” the rent controlled upstairs tenant. “I’m the reason apartments are so expensive,” she profanely gloats in a sharply written, economically informed scene.

Anytime a filmmaker creates an original movie musical, you have to give credit for their ambition. While a bit hit-or-miss, Mendoza still succeeds fairly often in Fly. It closes this year’s AAIFF this Sunday night (7/26) at the Clearview Chelsea Theater.

AAIFF ’09: Hubad

You can see edgy, erotically-charged theater any night of the week in New York City, even on Sunday. Evidently, that is not necessarily the case in the Philippines. Appearing an explicit, psychologically revealing avant-garde production may rejuvenate the careers of two middle-aged actors, but it also threatens to disrupt their own relationships in Mark Gary and Denisa Reyes’s Hubad (trailer here), which screens during the upcoming Asian American International Film Festival.

Andre Joaquin is a gifted theater director. That means his work is not commercial, forcing him to rely on arts council grants to stage his productions. Unfortunately, his bureaucratic patrons are balking at the explicit nature of his latest work. While struggling to secure funding, he is pushing his actors to their breaking point with his demanding rehearsals. Carmen Manahan and Delfin Bustamante play a bored married couple, who simulate various fantasies during the course of Joaquin’s experimental play, and perhaps reveal something of themselves in the process, if their director has his way.

For Manahan, the play might be the last chance to save her flagging career. Bustamante still finds himself in demand, but for unrewarding gigs, like Disney musical revues. Both are reasonably happily married, just not to each other. However, perhaps as a result of the intimate nature of their rehearsals, they have begun an ill-advised affair.

This is an adult film, but not a prurient one. While Hubad, which translates as “naked” or “stripped,” appears to be about one thing, very little of it is seen in actuality on-screen. However, the many strange stage representations of intimate relations, including s&m sessions, will surely confuse immature viewers.

Hubad also might be a film only its native Filipino audience can really appreciate. While Joaquin’s dramatic vision might well be transgressive compared to say, typical Manilla dinner theater fare, here in New York, it seems pretty pedestrian. There is some fine acting to be found in the film though. Filipino film director Penque Gallaga is particularly memorable as psychologically manipulative director, subtly revealing Joaquin’s vulnerabilities, including his own specific Freudian issues. Nonie Buencamino also brings a real intensity and legitimate screen presence to role of Bustamante. However, Irma Adlawan sometimes strays into melodramatic territory, just like her character, the frequently overwrought Manahan.

Gary and Reyes convincingly capture the hothouse atmosphere of the chaotic rehearsal process. In fact, Hubad seems infused with a genuine affection for the theater. Much like Joaquin’s on-screen production, Hubad is an interesting work, featuring brave performances, but is still more likely to leave audiences intellectually stimulated rather than emotionally satisfied. It screens this Friday (7/24) at the Chelsea Clearview Cinemas as part of the 2009 AAIFF.

AAIFF ’09: Claustrophobia

According to the old saying, familiarity breeds contempt. In some case though, it can also lead to love. For five co-workers forced to carpool together, it leads to a combination of both emotions in screenwriter Ivy Ho’s directorial debut, Claustrophobia (trailer here), which kicks off this year’s Asian American International Film Festival.

After a long day of corporate togetherness, being cramped together for the long commute home might not be the healthiest thing for these employees of a struggling Hong Kong corporation. It seems particularly uncomfortable for Jewel, a young party-girl, and John, the overly-sensitive lover she spurned. Their strained relationship certainly leads to some awkward commuting moments, but the audience soon discovers the real drama is unfolding between John, the married boss, and Pearl, his quietly competent assistant.

Ho tells her story in reverse order, with each scene flashing backwards several months in time. With every successive rewind, Claustrophobia provides more contexts for the preceding scenes. It quickly becomes clear Pearl is in love with John, but his true feelings remain ambiguous. We also start to share Jewel’s ethical suspicions regarding her boss, Karl, an arrogant senior manager and the literal fifth wheel of the carpool.

Claustrophobia’s narrative structure might sound like a gimmicky device. However, it works quite well in the film because of the tremendous patience Ho shows, allowing her vignettes to unfold discretely and organically, rather than as a barrage of quick-cut flashbacks. While Ho declines to spell out every nuance of the relationship between Pearl and Tom, she subtly reveals hints of the disappointments and betrayals that the audience has already seen come to a head.

Ho focuses the film’s spotlight squarely on Karena Lam, the Vancouver-born Hong Kong-based actress, who is simply remarkable as Pearl. Toning down her considerable glamour, she makes Pearl a pretty but not beautiful, smart but not brilliant, hopelessly hardworking professional woman. She expresses the lifetime of frustration experienced by someone who has always done what was expected of her, yet never found the happiness she arguably deserves (at least more than her less conscientious colleagues). Her deeply affecting, fully realized performance is absolutely central to the film’s considerable success.

Ho proves to be a sensitive director, inspiring emotional truth and directness from her talented cast in every painfully intimate encounter, while never allowing the film to descend into melodrama. While Claustrophobia feels understated in the moment, it packs a real punch overall. It is an excellent selection to open the 2009 AAIFF this Thursday (7/23) at the Chelsea Clearview Cinema. Ho will also participate in a special one-on-one interview on Saturday (7/25).

AAIFF ’09: No Joke Burma (Short)

Comedy is a tough business. When an act goes over, comedians say they “killed,” but when it falls flat, they say they “died out there.” Such expressions are uncomfortably fitting in Burma, where two members of Moustache Brothers comedy troupe served five years in prison for poking fun at the SPDC military regime while performing at the home of Nobel Prize-winning opposition leader Aung San Suu Kyi. Li-Anne Huang introduces viewers to these principled men of mirth in her short documentary film No Joke Burma, which screens at the upcoming Asian American International Film Festival.

You sort of have to be there to appreciate the Moustache Brothers’ humor. In this case, “there” is their home, where the Moustaches remain under house arrest. Proving their pettiness, the (mis)ruling military tyrants have actually altered the city drainage system in order to flood the Moustaches’ house whenever it rains. Yet the Moustaches persist, using humor to keep their morale up.

Huang captures the spirit that made the Moustache Brothers the unlikely faces of Burma’s oppressed artistic community. Incidentally, they do indeed refer to their country as Burma, not Myanmar. Though they have been known to tease western tourists, they also seem favorably disposed to America, particularly Lu Maw, who shows a fascination with American slang.

As a “Meet the Moustaches” style short, No Joke is timely and illuminating. Given her access, one hopes Huang recorded more footage for a future feature-length documentary. Despite international condemnation of Suu Kyi’s house arrest, Americans are tragically ignorant of the nature of the SPDC, which came to power after quashing the popular 8888 Uprising against the Burma Socialist Programme Party. While its running time clocks in just under fifteen minutes, No Joke is still a good, informative start. It screens as part of AAIFF’s “Life on the Edge” program of shorts this coming Saturday (7/25).

AAIFF ’09: You Don’t Know Jack

He co-starred with John Wayne and was the first Asian-American artist signed to Motown Records. He was a trailblazer for Asian Americans both on Broadway and network television, but millions only know him as Sgt. Nick Yemana on Barney Miller. The full significance of Soo’s career is now celebrated in Jeff Adachi’s documentary You Don’t Know Jack (trailer here), which screens at the upcoming 2009 Asian American International Film Festival.

Jack Soo was actually Goro Suzuki. After spending time in FDR’s internment camps as a teenager, Soo found it prudent to change his name to the Chinese sounding Soo as he began his show business career in the Midwest. A talented but scuffling singer and comedian, Soo was introduced to his future wife by big band trumpeter Harry James in Ohio, at a time when inter-racial romance was not exactly encouraged.

Soo’s big break came as the lead in the Broadway production, touring company, and film of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Flower Drum Song. Given the popularity of the cast album, it made sense for a label to sign him. Unfortunately, it was Motown, where Berry Gordy would bury his recording of “For Once in My Life,” in favor of Stevie Wonder’s rendition (in yet another dubious dealing of the controversial hit-maker). Adachi’s film rescues his heartfelt slower version, recorded with soaring strings prior to the familiar Wonder record, playing what sounds like a well-worn test pressing in its entirety.

Adachi interviews many of Soo’s surviving family members and professional colleagues, including Nancy Kwan from the Drum Song movie, as well as Steve Landesberg and Max Gail from Barney Miller. George Takei (a.k.a. Lt. Sulu) also provides insightful commentary and context. However, Janet Waldo, Soo’s co-star on the shortlived ABC sitcom Valentine’s Day, seems to overstate the popularity of their show, given its speedy cancelation, and quality, considering the corniness of the selected clips. Still, her larger point regarding Soo’s carefully cultivated cool cat image remains valid.

At just over an hour in total running time, audiences should sit through Jack’s credits for one of the film’s best images: a candid shot with John Wayne during the making of the under-appreciated The Green Berets. Indeed, Adachi judiciously selected film and photos of Soo that nicely conveys his dry wit and laidback coolness. The film briskly and convincingly makes the case for Soo’s importance as an actor and entertainer, over and above his individual roles. It screens Saturday (7/25) at the Chelsea Cinemas as part of this year’s AAIFF.