Detective Kien: The Headless Horror

Miss Moon’s village is like the Sleepy Hollow of Vietnam. The decapitated victims of the sinister “Drowning Ghost” keep washing up on the shore of the river. Supposedly, her niece (whom she raised as a daughter) was the exception. The waters only returned one of poor Nga’s shoes. Since the useless village chief refuses to investigate Miss Moon petitions the Judge’s Detective. That would be Kien, who conscientiously answers the call in Victor Vu’s Detective Kien: The Headless Horror, which is still playing in select theaters.

Kien an analytical but empathetic investigator, who represents the full authority of the [unseen] Judge, so Chief Liem Quan must cooperate. The good detective soon learns Nga was tragically inconvenient. Her father resented Nga, because he suspected she was her mother’s illegitimate daughter, with the lover she later absconded with. Similarly, Liem and Lady Vuong, his Lady Mabeth-ish wife, harbored ill will towards Nga, because their entitled daughter Tuyet’s arranged fiancé, Thac, fell in love with her.

Of course, Kien wants to maintain the integrity of his investigation, but Miss Moon insists on joining him—and she is the sort of person who is hard to say no to. That is especially true as the romantic attraction between them grows. Ominously, the Drowning Ghost also apparently takes an interest Kien, appearing in dreams and visions—and maybe even real life, at inopportune times.

Perhaps by Vietnam’s standards, Detective Kien might be a horror movie. For American audiences, it is more of a mystery with some genre elements, but either way, it is wonderfully atmospheric. There is a lot of sneaky skullduggery and 19^th Century detective business afoot.

Daydreamers: Vampires in Vietnam

The rules for these vampires will sound familiar. Sunlight and fire are sure ways to kill them. They are also vulnerable to silver, but its best to aim for the heart. Of course, once you are a vampire there is no going back—except Nhat’s faction believes they can change back, through sheer discipline and alternate blood sources. However, his brother Marco’s clan thinks differently and hunts accordingly. They also happen to be the better looking vampires in Timothy Linh Bui’s Daydreamers, which is now playing in very limited theaters.

Nhat “lives” cooperatively with the “House Boat” vampires, led by Vy, who aspires to follow the example of a folkloric monk, who cured his vampirism with a diet of rat blood and will power. According to the legend, it took him more than a few centuries, which leaves plenty of time for Nhat’s fellow vampires to succumb to their hunger.

Marco is the lover of Trieu, the Vampire queen of Ho Chi Minh City. They are definitely vampires in the hedonistic Anne Rice tradition. Nhat’s vampires scrupulously observe the ancient vampire rule: “kill no human,” which Trieu’s vampires corrupted into “leave no witnesses.” Despite their differences, Nhat is initially happy to reconnect with Marco. However, he inadvertently reveals himself to the mortal Ha, during their celebratory clubbing. For Marco and Trieu, this problem is easily solved. However, Nhat becomes Ha’s protector instead.

The basic story, credited to Bui and Doan Si Nguuyen, incorporates a lot of familiar vampire terrain, with amble precedent in the Lestat and Underworld franchises. However, Daydreamers’ vampire backstory, including the undead flight from Europe to Indochina and the legend of the monk, gives it a richer texture. The exotic Vietnamese setting also helps distinguish the film from its legion of competitors. In fact, the tone shares a kinship with some of Joko Anwar’s creepier Indonesian horror films.

Submitted by Vietnam: 578 Magnum

It is tough being a trucker in America, because you must deal with raising oil prices, spare parts inflation, and nuisance law suits. At least they usually do not have to contend with a brutal human trafficking gang, like Hung. His daughter was a victim of the creepy criminals, so he is out to deliver some street justice in Luong Dinh Dung’s 578 Magnum, Vietnam’s official internation Oscar submission, which releases this Friday on VOD.

Hung was once a member of Vietnam’s Special Forces, so the boss, Mr. Khang, admits in hindsight, his predatory son Thai should have avoided Hung’s young daughter, An. Still, as far he is concerned, what’s done is done. Frankly, it was probably a miracle one of his henchmen released the gravely ailing girl, out of concern for her health. She recovers physically, but the trauma continues to torment her.

Hung will pass along the pain to Khang’s gang, foiling their next abduction. Soon, Khang has small armies of thugs out looking for Hung. The angry father is not a superman. He takes a number of severe beatings, but he is incredibly hard to kill.

For those who want to see some massive martial arts beatdowns, this film is for you. If you have no patience for boring transitions or establishing shots, you are sure to appreciate Dung’s approach, because he often just jumps into fight scenes, without even a “how do you do?” It is probably just as well. 578 Magnum cuts directly to the chase, delivering exactly what it promises. Oscar experts might consider it a poor fit for Academy voters’ taste, but 578 Magnum secured distribution from the well-regarded Film Movement, so maybe the added attention paid dividends.

The Foggy Mountain, sort of Introducing Peter Pham

When a fighter like Phi wants to retire, just let him. But no, slimy crime boss Ba Rang wants him to come back for one last fight, so he can bet against him. You really can’t blame Phi for kicking his final opponent’s butt, but Ba Rang does anyway. We can all smell the feud coming on in Phan Ahn & Ken Dinh’s The Foggy Mountain, which releases Tuesday on digital.

Phi just wants to live quietly, taking care of his blind wife Lanh. Instead, Ba Rang lures him back, but the gangster loses his shirt when Phi wins the match. For those who were watching, it was a pretty good fight, but obviously, only the money matters to Ba Rang. To express his disappointment, he has Phi waylaid and beaten unconscious, but they mistakenly leave him for dead. On the other hand, they make darned sure they finish the job with his wife Lanh.

Of course, Phi is bent on revenge. He knows all about the “dig two graves” business, so he visits one of his former students, now a teacher in a mountain village, as a final act of closure. As it happens, Ba Rang’s human trafficking gang has been active in the area, kidnapping a prostitute and two children. The teacher will be their next victim, but Phi is not having it.

Even by action movie standards, Dinh’s script is pretty bare-bones, but that is not really the point of Foggy Mountain. Essentially, this is a straight-over-the-plate audition film to determine is Peter Pham (with a handful of films under his belt thus far) has the stuff to carry a film as an action star (and also the action director). The answer is yes. He has amazing martial arts chops and he handles the quiet squinty stuff well enough.

It also helps that Pham has a worthy primary sparring partner in Simon Kook (who previously appeared in Ip Man 3). Frankly, kook has a menacingly look that really stands out as Vong Akork. Ba Rang’s chief henchman. Ironically, Kook might get even more career momentum out of Foggy Mountain, but if so, it will be deserved.

Inside the Yellow Cocoon Shell

Even though it is stuck with a Communist regime, Vietnam also represents the fifth largest Catholic nation in Asia (by population) and maintains unofficial but not horrible relations with the Vatican. Thien’s sister-in-law is a Vietnamese Catholic, or at least she was. Her untimely death forces him to take temporary responsibility for his nephew and launches him on his own search for some kind of higher sense of things in director-screenwriter Pham Thien An’s Inside the Yellow Cocoon Shell, which opens today in New York.

Compared to his two drinking buddies, Thien is clearly the most materialistic, but none of them pays much attention to the fatal motor-scooter accident that happens right in front of their beer-garden. Later, Thien learns that his sister-in-law Teresa perished in the collision, so he must escort his nephew Dao back to her home village. He is the little boy’s only family left in Saigon, since his father (Thien’s brother) Tam apparently vanished several years ago.

Caring for Dao somewhat reawakens Thien’s familial instincts. Participating in Teresa’s Catholic service also makes him mindful of certain ironies. Originally, Tam studied for the priesthood, but he was advised to marry instead. In contrast, Thien still carries a torch for his old flame, Thao, who has moved on, taking nun’s orders and teaching at the nearest Catholic school. Perhaps resolving to finally become his brother’s keeper, Thien sets out to find the long-lost Tam, as an act of atonement or familial duty.

It is hard to target an audience to recommend Yellow Cocoon to, because its long-take, Slow Cinema pacing will be challenging for many folks and especially for those who might otherwise appreciate its themes of faith and family. Yet, the film’s Catholic sensibilities might make fans of Slow Cinema itchy and uncomfortable.

For many Americans, Yellow Cocoon will also subvert assumptions, as when Thien visits a Vietnam War veteran in Teresa’s village. As the conversation progresses, it becomes clear the old man fought for the South against the Viet Cong, which makes sense, given the region’s predominant Catholicism.

Victor Vu’s Head Rush

Tam always kept a good head on his shoulders, until he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Now he keeps his head on the body of a murdered assassin, thanks to the breakthrough technology of “Uncle” Ma (who technically isn’t either). That muscle memory is a trip, but it will be awkward when the dead man’s nasty associates will come looking for him in Victor Vu’s Head Rush (a.k.a. Loi Bao), which releases today on VOD.

Like Condorman’s alter ego, Tam used his superhero graphic novels as his own wish fulfilment fantasies. He also wrote bizarrely tragic historical epics about fathers dying in battle that will be little comfort to his wife and pudgy son as they wrestle with his prognosis. However, Uncle Ma has the technology. He just needs a viable body, which very conveniently delivers itself, along with a hail of bullets from his murderers. It is a good thing Tam and Ma happened to be in the right forest at the right time, because they are able to sneak the body back to his lab for a head switcheroo.

Suddenly, Tam knows Kung Fu, but his hands need to relearn how to draw. He also might be getting flashes of the previous tenant’s memories, especially when he visits a pretty young emergency room doctor after some of his early heroics. Inevitably, Tam starts saving children from burning buildings and the like. He also does a lot of parkour. However, his new body won’t be so much fun when an organ trafficking gangster starts threatening Tam’s family.

Since Charlie Nguyen ran afoul of the government censors, Vu has assumed the responsibility of nearly single-handedly driving Vietnamese film industry. He has been working his way through the catalog of genres, so it was probably inevitable that he would give superheroes a go. Frankly, the action in Head Rush is pleasingly gritty compared to the films coming from the Hollywood legacy corporations, including quite a bit of slickly choreographed gunplay.

The biggest drawback is Vu’s predilection for melodrama, which remains undiminished in Head Rush. Like clockwork, the film comes to a screeching halt so Tam’s wife can lecture him about calling undue attention to himself or suspect him of getting up to some hanky-panky with Dr. Young-and-Available. Seriously, give us all a break. On the other hand, there are at least two wildly over-the-top third act revelations that perfectly reflect the spirit of superhero comic books.

Children of the Mist

For Di, a young Hmong girl, growing up in mountainous North Vietnam is the worst of two worlds. She gets all the pressure of online social media, but she also must worry about the “traditional” bride-napping practice, usually targeting girls around fourteen, just like her. Ironically, when navigating this difficult societal terrain, she wears a red star t-shirt evoking her country’s notorious Marxist revolutionary history. Ha Le Diem documents how hard it is to be a halfway forward-thinking girl in her community throughout Children of the Mist, which opens today at DCTV’s Firehouse in New York.

As the film opens, Di and her friends playfully recreate a bride-napping, but she assumes she is too headstrong for it to happen to her. Di actually wants to go to school, but her parents are not so convinced she needs an education. Whenever there is harvesting, she is expected to be there. That is also true for most of her classmates, much to the annoyance of her didactic teacher, who clearly has little patience for tradition.

Ironically, Di is so modern in her thinking, she really doesn’t notice she is being bride-napped, until it is too late. She just accepts a ride with Vang, a boy from school, whose parents then tell her they are getting married now. Di is not happy with that arrangement and neither is Ha, who seems more outraged than Di’s dowery-formulating parents.

Mist largely starts as an observational ethnographic documentary, but down shifts into something more urgent. While many previous docs have bemoaned the intrusion of the “globalist” economy into remote traditional enclaves, especially when it happens in the Brazilian Amazonia, Ha very pointedly introduces contemporary questions regarding consent and equality.

Furie: Veronica Ngo is Furious

In the movies, human traffickers are woefully inept at cost-benefit analyses. In Taken, someone should have decided to quietly return Liam Neeson’s daughter on the condition of no questions asked. That is even more true of Hai Phuong. The former gangster has a pretty lethal skill set of her own, but it is her mama bear protectiveness that makes her so formidable in Le Van Kiet’s Furie, which opens tomorrow in New York.

Hai was once a gangster, which is why she is still estranged from her family. All she really needs is her daughter Mai, who is unwisely snatcher away from her one day in the country market. They had been fighting before her abduction, so Hai is especially distraught. She will doggedly follow their trail all the way to Saigon, where she used to haunt the streets during her earlier criminal years.

Yep, that is about the size of Furie. This is not exactly what you would call a complex narrative structure, but it finds virtue in its simplicity. This is the sort of old school beat-down that defined Hong Kong action movies in the 1970s and 1980s. Kiet sets up the pins and Ngo knocks them down. Why complicate something so brutally effective?

Ngo’s action chops are already well-established, but she performs some of her grittiest, most cinematic fight scenes yet as Hai. She really takes it to the level of Villainess, but the mother-daughter relationship is also quite touching, thanks to the rapport she shares with young Mai Cat Vi, playing her namesake. Viewers will really, really root for Hai to rescue Mai and to dish out the payback the traffickers so richly deserve.

Phan Thanh Nhien is appropriately steely as Luong, the honest copper, but he is a distant second fiddle compared to the ferocious Ngo (and Hai). However, Hoa Tran’s scenery chewing presence and ferocious physicality makes trafficking gang leader Thanh Soi a more than worthy nemesis. Frankly, her character exits too soon—and with too much finality.

Kiet and Ngo deliver some juicy red meat for action fans. This is a lithe, street smart movie that only has one speed: full throttle. So, it’s a simple, straight forward review for an unfussy, gleefully violent film. Highly recommended for patrons of marital arts films and Vietnamese cinema, Furie opens tomorrow (3/1) in New York, at the AMC Empire.

HIFF ’18: The Third Wife

It is one of the great scientific injustices throughout human history. Women, especially those married to Henry VIII, have been blamed for not producing a male heir, even though it is only the father who can supply that Y chromosome. May finds herself in a similar dilemma. As the junior-most wife of a wealthy Vietnamese plantation owner, her position depends on her ability to give birth to a boy. The dysfunctional family dynamics and her first stirrings of passion will also confuse May in Ash Mayfair’s The Third Wife (trailer here), which screens during the 2018 Hawaii International Film Festival.

Frankly, May looks even younger than her fourteen years, so the idea of her marrying anyone is rather disturbing. Nonetheless, she fulfills her wedding night duties well enough to soon be pregnant. She is probably rather fortunate, because the senior wives, Ha and Xuan are quite supportive and protective of her. She also makes fast friends with Xuan’s daughters, Lien who is not much younger then May and spirited eight-or-ten-year-old Nhan.

The passions simmering within May’s new extended family definitely match the hot and humid Vietnamese countryside. This is especially true of the patriarch’s unstable son, who has been secretly carrying on an illicit affair with Xuan that has made him problematically co-dependent. Inevitably, his Werther-like brooding will destabilize their hothouse environment.

The Vietnamese-born, US & UK-educated Mayfair has crafted a wonderfully lush and evocative film. You can just smell the wild flowers (and the deadly nightshade). It is also very steamy, in every sense of the word.

As May, Nguyen Phuong Tra My does indeed look distressingly young and vulnerable, but she also makes a convincing pivot when her character starts to make some cold, hard decisions. Tran Nu Yen Khe is also wonderfully forceful and charismatic as Ha. However, My Cat Vi steals nearly all of her scenes as the wide-eyed, yet surprisingly resourceful Nhan.

Visually, Third Wife is absolutely gorgeous. Cinematographer Chananun Chotrungroj drinks in the rain forest backdrop and luxuriates in the trappings of 19^th Century, fin de siècle wealth and [male] privilege. It is hard to watch the tragedy as it inevitably transpires, but Mayfair holds the viewers in a vice-like grip. She makes you want to immerse yourself in this world, despite its social inequities. Highly recommended, The Third Wife screens tomorrow (11/15) and Saturday (11/17), as part of this year’s HIFF.

Fantasia ’18: Loi Bao

Tam always kept a good head on his shoulders, until he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Now he keeps his head on the body of a murdered assassin, thanks to the breakthrough technology of “Uncle” Ma (who technically isn’t either). That muscle memory is a trip, but it will be awkward when the dead man’s nasty associates will come looking for him in Victor Vu’s Loi Bao (trailer here), which screened during the 2018 Fantasia International Film Festival.

Like Condorman’s alter ego, Tam used his superhero graphic novels as his own wish fulfilment fantasies. He also wrote bizarrely tragic historical epics about fathers dying in battle that will be little comfort to his wife and pudgy son as they wrestle with his prognosis. However, Uncle Ma has the technology. He just needs a viable body, which very conveniently delivers itself, along with a hail of bullets from his murderers. It is a good thing Tam and Ma happened to be in the right forest at the right time, because they are able to sneak the body back to his lab for a head switcheroo.

Suddenly, Tam knows Kung Fu, but his hands need to relearn how to draw. He also might be getting flashes of the previous tenant’s memories, especially when he visits a pretty young emergency room doctor after some of his early heroics. Inevitably, Tam starts saving children from burning buildings and the like. He also does a lot of parkour. However, his new body won’t be so much fun when an organ trafficking gangster starts threatening Tam’s family.

Since Charlie Nguyen ran afoul of the government censors, Vu has become a veritable one-man Vietnamese film industry. He has been working his way through the catalog of genres, so it was probably inevitable that he would give superheroes a go. Frankly, the action in Loi Bao is pleasingly gritty compared to the films coming from the Mouse House and Bugs Bunny’s corporate masters, including quite a bit of slickly choreographed gunplay.

The biggest drawback is Vu’s predilection for melodrama, which remains undiminished in Loi Bao. Like clockwork, the film comes to a screeching halt so Tam’s wife can lecture him about calling undue attention to himself or suspect him of getting up to some hanky-panky with Dr. Young-and-Available. Seriously, give us all a break. On the other hand, there are at least two wildly over-the-top third act revelations that perfectly reflect the spirit of superhero comic books.

Cuong Seven is just okay as Tam, but he is definitely at his best performing action director Vincent Wang’s fight scenes. The entire ensemble is rather uneven, but Ngoc Anh Vu is the clear, unchallenged standout as Dr. Temptation.

The action scenes are crisp and clean—and so is Nguyen K’linh’s cinematography. In fact, it is rather interesting to see a superhero tale in a Vietnamese setting, where sleek, affluent homes lay nestled not far from grimy back alleys, at least judging the Hanoi Vu depicts. Regardless, few superhero movies have a body-count this high so you have to give Loi Bao credit. Recommended for fans of superheroes, martial arts, and parkour films, Loi Bao had it North American premiere at this year’s Fantasia.

The Housemaid (The Vietnamese Gothic Ghost Movie)

It all starts like a Vietnamese Rebecca or Jane Eyre, but the master’s late first wife is not about to let any floozy marry her husband. He also happens to be a Frenchman from a socially prominent family, in 1953 French Indochina. The naive servant girl and the frog officer are quite an unlikely couple, but their passion will not be denied, at least not by scandalized mortals in Derek Nguyen’s deliciously gothic The Housemaid (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Having been orphaned and left homeless by the war (the French one), Linh travels hundreds of miles from her village to apply for the only opening she has heard of: the housemaid at the Sa Cat rubber plantation estate. However, there is a reason the position has been vacant so long, which she learns only after accepting housekeeper Ba Han’s probationary offer. Rumor has it, Sa Cat is haunted the ghosts of the hundreds of workers killed by the plantation’s brutal overseers. Even more ominously, the black clad ghost of Captain Sebastien Laurent’s widow also stalks the grounds—and she is a jealous ghost.

Much to the dismay of Mrs. Han, a powerful mutual-attraction develops between Linh and Laurent while she nurses him following an unsuccessful assassination attempt. However, it is safe to say from the supernaturally-charged in media res prologue, their romance will not end well. Eventually, we will learn what happened that fateful night, but Nguyen first rewinds to the beginning, as part of the investigating officers’ interrogation.

It is a shame the Vietnamese state film authorities hold perverse biases against supernatural horror, much like their Mainland Chinese counterparts, because they sure seem to have a knack for it, at least judging from The Housemaid. The nation also has a taste for the genre, given its standing as Vietnam’s third highest grossing film of all time, having somehow slipped past the censors. Some of the twists and turns are not spectacularly original, but the atmosphere and settings are to die for. This is one ominous looking manor house and the surrounding rubber trees are as spooky as any of the forest locales in Twin Peaks (then or now).

Kate Nhung is terrific as Linh, perfectly modulating her naivete, earthiness, and yes, sensuality. Jean-Michel Richaud is a bit stiff as Laurent (in all fairness, he spends at least half the film lying prone in bed), but he still develops some believable chemistry with Nhung. Kim Xuan would do Mrs. Danvers proud as the severely scoldy Mrs. Han, while Phi Phung turns some nice moments as the shrewder-than-she-looks cook, Mrs. Ngo.

Who knew one of the most enjoyable gothic yarns to come along in years would hail from Vietnam? Nguyen masterfully controls the foreboding vibe and his cast broods and swoons like Hammer Horror veterans. It is mostly eerie rather than gory, which makes it all jolly fun, in a throwback kind of way. Highly recommended for fans of old school gothic horror, The Housemaid opens this Friday (2/16) in New York, at the IFC Center.

Veronica Ngo’s Tam Cam: The Untold Story

This Vietnamese fairy is a lot like Cinderella, but the slipper is golden rather than glass. There is also more death and reincarnation. As if that were not promising enough, Veronica Ngo (soon to be even more famous as the star of Star Wars: The Last Jedi) adds demons and Braveheart-style battles in her adaptation. The Cinderella step-sister has it particularly hard, but karma will do as it does in Ngo’s Tam Cam: The Untold Story (trailer here), which opens this Friday in select cities.

Poor Tam is bullied rotten by her nasty step-mother Di Ghe and vain step-sister Cam, but she gets encouragement from a Joel Grey-like Fairy Godfather. There will indeed be a royal ball, open to all, where the disinterested Prince (and acting Regent) will chose a bride. Di Ghe conspires to keep Tam away, but her Fairy Godfather gets her there in time to try on the fateful slipper.

Sadly, even after she marries the Prince, Tam is not allowed to live happily ever after. Prodded by the evil Magistrate, Di Ghe murders Tam and convinces the Prince to allow Cam to care for him, as Tam supposedly would have wanted. However, Tam constantly reincarnates as birds or trees to save the shockingly unintuitive Prince from the Magistrate’s assassination attempts. Unfortunately, all appears lost when the Prince’s trusted lieutenant betrays him in battle, but Tam and the Fairy folk are still looking out for him.

The original tale of Tam and Cam takes a turn that is grislier than just about anything you will find in Perrault, Basile, or the Brothers Grimm. Ngo is probably wise to file down that sharp edge, but she adds plenty of hack-and-slash action and demonic brimstone. Frankly, it is pretty impressive how many narrative balls she manages to juggle, thereby securing a number of featured roles for members of 365, the Vietnamese boy band she produces.

Actually, the boys aren’t bad hacking away at each other. Ha Vi certainly comes across as a sweet innocent as Tam, whereas Ninh Duong Lan Ngoc convincingly plays against type (she was the endearing lottery ticket seller in Jackpot) as the catty Cam, but nobody out vamps Ngo as the wicked stepmother. Forget about Jolie in Maleficent or Blanchett in the recent live-action Cinderella, because they pale in comparison to Ngo’s flamboyant villainy.

She can also direct. Ngo and Diep The Vinh capitalize on Vietnam’s stunning natural vistas (at least as seen from a drone’s eye-view) to give the film a real epic feel. Her war scenes have grit and the CGI is a little wacky, but still better than you would expect.

It is hard to dislike Tam Cam, because it is one of those kitchen-sink kind of film, where crazy stuff is constantly thrown in, for the sake of our entertainment. Arguably, the fact that it maintains a consistent sense of narrative logic is a tribute to Ngo. It is wild, tragic, romantic, melodramatic, sometimes a little goofy, and most importantly fun. Recommended for fans of fairy tales and Ngo, Tam Cam: The Untold Story opens this Friday (9/29) in Orange County at the Regal Garden Grove and in San Jose at the AMC Eastbridge.

NYAFF ’17: Kfc

It turns out the media has lied to us. They have portrayed Vietnam as an island of tranquility, but it turns out the streets of Hanoi are worse than back-alley Manila, without the free speech and press freedoms Filipinos enjoy (still). If you doubt it, brace yourself for the carnal, charnel spectacle of Lê Binh Giang’s Kfc (trailer here), which screens during this year’s New York Asian Film Festival.

Supposedly, all the film’s cast of characters regularly pass through a fateful KFC in downtown Hanoi. Frankly, Lê is not excessively fastidious when it comes to establishing those connections, but that is not necessarily a bad thing. One thing is clear. Hanoi is a predatory city, teeming with violence. Justice is dubious, but when payback comes, it is swift and harsh. Take for instance the first five minutes of the film.

Eventually, Lê sets into a pattern of heinous act begetting a violent act of vengeance-taking, which in turn begets more retribution. The various players include a cannibalistic doctor who mows down his victims in an ambulance, his chubby kid who has a taste for both fried chicken and human flesh, the two pickpocket street urchins he befriends, two sadistic rival street gangs, and assorted thieves and prostitutes.

It should be conceded many of Lê’s sequences are undeniably powerful and veritably reek with sinister atmosphere. However, the effect dissipates when it is repeated over and over. Eventually, the Kfc viewing experience becomes akin to watching somebody you don’t know play the most brutal Grand Theft Auto game ever. However, you can’t fault the large ensemble, given the way they all so fully commit to this shocking world.

Throughout Kfc there are obvious references to large Western brands, like the titular chicken franchise, as well as Coke and Pepsi. Clearly, these were meant as an ironic commentary on globalization, but the corporate consumables actually supply the few small pleasures available to its inevitable victims. You could almost consider Kfc a Vietnamese A Serbian Movie, with a taste for fried chicken. If Jane Fonda watched it, she might start demonstrating to renew the Vietnam War. It is impossible to recommended, but it is certainly a bold auterist work, perhaps bordering on outright madness. For those who have to see it for themselves, Kfc screens this Thursday (7/6) at the Walter Reade, as part of the 2017 NYAFF.

Saigon Bodyguards: The Vietnamese Action-Buddy Movie

In Vietnam, the milk business is pretty cutthroat. During power struggles, you need a little private security muscle like the kind Trinh can offer. His partner Vien—not so much, but they are a package deal in Ken Ochiai’s Saigon Bodyguards (trailer here), which opens today in Metro-Los Angeles.

Trinh’s boss is always comparing him unfavorably to his late bodyguard father, but her expectations for Vien are drastically lower. They would really be on her list after all the damage they (Vien) caused on their last gig, but they have been specially requested for a sensitive assignment. The client happens to be Vien’s little sister Thi, who has climbed the corporate ladder at LeMilk. She and Trinh really ought to be an item, but Vien won’t give them a break.

After the death of LeMilk’s charismatic founder, his college student son Henry is supposed to be in line to succeed him, but board members are conspiring against him. True to form, Vien lets Henry get kidnapped at the first opportunity, but with a little fast thinking, he recruits dead-ringer street vendor Phuc to impersonate their client. From there, mayhem ensues, as Trinh and Vien race to rescue the heir, while the bad guys conspire to nab the spare.

As you might expect, the humor in Saigon Bodyguards is pretty rubber-faced and physical. Japanese filmmaker Ochiai brings none of the tragic elegance that so distinguished his masterful Uzumasa Limelight, but frankly, it would be out of place here. Instead, he keeps things snappy and lightweight. Along the way, he stages a number of entertaining fight scenes, especially those featuring Vietnamese popstar Diep Lam Anh as hench-vixen Kieu. He also does his best to capitalize on producer-star Kim Ly’s physique, which definitely has action star potential.

Kim Ly’s presence wears relatively well and he develops some appealing chemistry Chi Pu’s Thi. However, Thai Hoa becomes downright wearisome as the shticky Vien and Be Tran similarly tries our patience as the goofy Phuc. However, Kieu and Khuong Ngoc’s flamboyantly evil Dat chew plenty of scenery and throw down with the best of them.

In a way, it is nice to see a release this commercial and eager to please coming out of Vietnam. This is definitely a capitalist kind of film, with absolutely, positively no socialist realism. It is actually kind of fun, in a cheesy way. Recommended for those who find the From Vegas to Macau franchise too subtle and serious but the Lost In movies too pratfallish, Saigon Bodyguards opens today (2/3) at the brand new CGV Cinemas in Buena Park, Orange County.
(Stills courtesy of CJ Entertainment)

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.

Mark Lee Ping-Bing at MoMA: The Vertical Ray of the Sun

Lien and her two sisters never made a fuss over their parents’ birthdays while they were living, yet they will prepare lavish feasts for the memorial anniversaries. The irony is not lost on the sisters, because in most respects they embrace life in the moment. However, their romantic entanglements become distractingly messy in Vietnamese-born French-naturalized filmmaker Tran Anh Hung’s The Vertical Ray of the Sun (trailer here), which screens as part of Luminosity, MoMA’s retrospective tribute to cinematographer Mark Lee Ping-Bing.

Vertical is sort of like the lushest, most sensual film Yasujiro Ozu never made. You might say “nothing happens,” but the truth is an awful lot of life transpires for the Vietnamese sisters. However, that late summer vibe will lull viewers into a sort of listless bliss, just as it does to the characters. That would be Lee at work.

Lien’s parents died one month apart. That should be romantic, but the circumstances were complicated. Lien and her married sisters, Suong and Khanh have mostly come to terms with it. As a result, the family café bustles with activity as they prepare for the first feast. As usual, they tease and cajole their reluctant young brother Hai into helping. That is especially Lien’s M.O. She and Hai are roommates who always start they day together bantering, exercising, and dancing to Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground.

Frankly, Lien and Hai might be so close, they could be crowding out potential romantic interests. Still, their mornings certainly look like a lot of fun. In contrast, Suong and Khanh must manage highly imperfect spouses and suspicions of infidelity. In one case they are justified, but not the other. Some viewers might be frustrated with the lack of closure for these subplots (as well as others), but Vertical is rather scrupulously focused on the period between each memorial feast. It is a somewhat arbitrary time frame, but a significant one.

Good golly, just about every aspect of Vertical is visually arresting, starting with Lien and her ridiculously photogenic family, but also most definitely including Lee’s rich, verdant cinematography. It is the sort of film you just want to soak in, like a hot tub. Consequently, viewers face the potential danger of losing sight of Tran Nu Yên-Khê’s acutely sensitive and utterly seductive performance as Lien. Likewise, Nguyen Nhu Quỳnh and Le Khanh have moments of pure beauty as Suong and Khanh, respectively.

For those who find Vertical uneventful, we just don’t know what to tell you. The truth is you will be hard pressed to find another film that is this emotionally mature and yet so sexually charged. If that bores you, you’re on your own. Highly recommended for sophisticated viewers, The Vertical Ray of the Sun screens this Sunday (6/19) and Tuesday (6/28) as part of Luminosity at MoMA.

Sweet 20: The Vietnamese Miss Granny

In Korea, she is known as Oh Mal-soon. In China, she is Meng Li Jun. She is about to pop up again in Vietnam as Mrs. Dai, with Japanese doppelganger waiting in the wings. This time around, Korea’s popular Miss Granny gets a Vietnamese remake in Phan Gia Nhat Linh’s Sweet 20 (trailer here), which opens today in Los Angeles.

Stop me if you heard this before. Miss Dai is a real handful of a mother-in-law, who literally worries her daughter-in-law sick. When the poor woman is finally hospitalized for exhaustion, Miss Dai starts to feel some judgmental vibes from her family. Walking the streets in an Edward Hopper kind of mood, Miss Dai wanders into a mysterious photo studio. She wanders out restored to her perky self at twenty.

Initially, Miss Dai tries to avoid her friends and family, but she when her spoiled grandson hears her rock an open mic, he recruits her for his scuffling back. Transforming them from punk rock hacks into a straight-laced pop group, Thanh Nga (as she now calls herself) attracts the eye of a handsome music producer, both professionally and romantically. The leads to some awkward jealousy from her grandson and Brother Be, the torch-carrying old crony who knows her secret.

Sort of like Fincher’s slavish remake of the Swedish Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, if you’ve seen the previous 20 Once Again (or presumably the Korean original), you essentially know exactly where Sweet 20 is headed, beat for beat. Miu Le is appealing cute and goofy as the newly young Thanh Nga, but maybe not quite as winning as Yang Zishan. However, the musical numbers are less saccharine and more nostalgically retro. Doi Thu also offers greater emotional substance as the long suffering daughter-in-law, whereas the ugly duckling jokes directed at Brother Be’s daughter Duyen (played by Thu Trang) are unfair and frankly not even based on reality.

Still, first time helmer Phan keeps the two-hour plus film moving along and the sentimental pop songs are rather pleasant. Obviously, this concept works, considering Sweet 20 is now the highest grossing domestically produced film at the Vietnamese box office. It is nice to have some Vietnamese cinema in theaters, but two Miss Granny remakes might be enough for casual viewers (we can probably at least sit out the Japanese and Thai versions, maybe returning for the Indonesian Oh/Meng/Dai). Recommended for first time viewers as a heartfelt rom com, Sweet 20 opens today (3/11) at the Regal Garden Grove Stadium.

Macabro ’15: Hollow

Nature abhors a vacuum. So do vengeful spirits. It is time for another lesson in physics and metaphysics. This one comes from Vietnam, but the vibe is certainly consistent with the K-horror and J-horror traditions. Innocent young Ai has not been herself lately and that means big trouble in Ham Tran’s Hollow (trailer here), which screens as part of this year’s Macabro, the International Horror Film Festival in Mexico City.

Rebellious Chi does not really know why, but for some reason she distrusts her well-heeled step-father, Vuong Gia Huy. However, she adores her little half-sister Ai, even though she feels like the young cherub has taken her place in their mother’s heart. She takes it harder than anyone when Ai drowns while she was supposed to be watching her. Yet, only copper uncle Thuc understands how much he is hurting. To keep the film’s emotional pendulum swinging, Thuc thinks he has good news. When he went to identify Ai’s body at the big city morgue, he found her inexplicably alive on the slab. Of course, after the accident Ai becomes suspiciously distant and frankly kind of weird.

Hollow definitely starts with the child-and/or-teen in jeopardy template, but Tran’s execution is tight and tense, abetted by the pungently evocative atmosphere. He out Blumhouses most Blumhouse productions. Theologically, evil is defined not as the opposite of good but as its perversion. This is a principle Hollow illustrates in spades. For a genre film, it employs some pretty deep archetypal symbolism of innocence and vengeance, while simultaneously calling out Southeast Asia’s most pernicious social pathologies.

Despite all the lurid and paranormal elements, the ensemble is admirable restrained. As Thuc, Jayvee Mai sets the world-weary, spiritually bereft tone. He really looks like the sort of guy who pops an Excedrin as soon as he rolls out of bed. Young Nguyen Hong An and even younger Lam Thanh My also contribute remarkably assured performances, setting a gold standard for kids in horror films.

Although Hollow revisits some familiar Grunge-ish terrain, its secrets are distinctively creepy. The full significance of its uncanny business resonates to an unsettling extent. Life is hard in this spooky morality play, but karma is even tougher, especially for the seemingly privileged Vuongs. Recommended for fans of supernatural horror, Hollow screens tomorrow (8/21) and Sunday the 30^th, as part of Macabro 2015.

New Vietnamese Cinema ’15: Scandal

Given the controversy that once embroiled filmmaker Victor Vu, the title of his subsequent signature franchise is certainly apt. Charges that his 2010 picture Inferno bears suspicious similarities to Wolfgang Petersen’s Shattered have not slowed down his career much from an outsider’s vantage point, while Petersen was probably just shocked anyone remembers Shattered. Regardless, his flashy exploration of fame, jealousy, and media gossip-mongering will upend many people’s preconceptions of Vietnamese film. Fittingly, Vu’s Scandal (trailer here) screens during the 2015 edition of New Vietnamese Cinema at the Honolulu Museum of Art.

Y Linh is an up-and-coming model-actress, who finally starts realizing her superstar dreams after her marriage to entrepreneur Hoang Kiet. Her first films are blockbusters directed by the Spielberg-esque Le Hung and produced by the slimy Thien. Unfortunately, everything changes when her husband meets the home-wrecking singer-model, Tra My. Soon Thien is openly carrying on with Tra My, who also steals the movie roles Y Linh was expecting. To make matters worse, she starts suffering from mystery maladies traditional doctors cannot diagnose, but witch doctors recognize only too well. Concluding Tra My placed a curse on her, Y Linh fights back the only place she can—in the press.

To an extent, one can hear echoes of the Jolie-Aniston tabloid affair in Scandal, but the alleged black magic adds an entirely new wrinkle, at least as far as we know. Despite all the Vietnamese film industry awards it racked up, Scandal is not exactly high art. It is glitzy, glossy, and often shamelessly lurid. Of course, all that scandalous behavior makes good trashy entertainment.

Vân Trang and Mai Thu Huong (a.k.a. Maya) embrace their inner divas as Y Linh and Tra My, respectively. Frankly, it is just a lot of fun to watch them rage at each other. Khuong Ngoc and Mihn Thuan are not exactly shy hamming it up as the director and producer, either. Clearly, this is not a business or a film for shrinking violets.

Vu direction is slicker than slick, while cinematographer Nguyen K’Linh gives it all a stylishly noir sheen. In fact, Vu manages to pull off a rather clever bit of misdirection, thanks to the many extravagant distractions. The sensationalistic melodrama proved so popular it spawned a thematic sequel that will also screen as part of the 2015 New Vietnamese Cinema series. Recommended for those who appreciate vicariously indulgent morality tales, Scandal 1 screens this Thursday (7/9) and Friday (7/10) at the Honolulu Museum of Art, as part of their annual celebration of Vietnamese film.

New Vietnamese Cinema ’15: The Prince and the Pagoda Boy

It is probably safe to argue the first emperor of the Later Lý Dynasty was considerable better than his predecessor, the last king of the Anterior Lê Dynasty. The latter was only the third of a short line, who had killed the second, his brother, soon after he ascended to throne. The future emperor Ly Cong Uan witnessed all that chaos and oppression first hand, learning lessons in governance to establish a new dynasty that would last for two centuries. Ly’s rise from humble roots to the heights of royal power are chronicled in Luu Trong Ninh’s The Prince and the Pagoda Boy (trailer here), which screens during the 2015 edition of New Vietnamese Cinema at the Honolulu Museum of Art.

Little is known of Ly’s mother, but it is an established fact he was raised in a pagoda as a Buddhist disciple. As a result, young Ly had mad skills that he used to defend the village children from bullies. Recognizing Ly just is not ready for enlightenment yet, his master transfers him into the king’s service. The new officer cuts quite the imposing figure, so Le Long Dinh, one of three ambitious princes vying to succeed their father, makes a point of befriending him.

However, Ly still has the same sense of righteous justice, causing friction with the prince, especially after he kills his freshly crowned older brother to claim the throne for himself. Nevertheless, Ly agrees to return to Le’s service to help unify the nation and establish security for the peasantry. Of course, their new understanding will only last so long, given Le’s duplicitous nature and Ly’s ethical principles. To top it all off, they are both attracted to the same woman.

You probably shouldn’t swear by the historical details in Pagoda. Some liberties might have been taken, especially with respects to Ly’s hardscrabble origins, but they make for a big sweeping Horatio Alger epic. However, the film will have plenty of credibility with martial arts fans thanks to the involvement of action star Johnny Tri Nguyen as the fight coordinator. There are some great battle scenes, but it is tough to top young (ten-ish) Ly laying a beatdown on a trio of thuggish twelve year olds (who surely walked away from the film with only minor bruising. After all Nguyen co-starred in Power Kids, so he must have picked up plenty of child safety tips there).

Quách Ngoc Ngoan is also a pretty convincing action star and dignified enough to be a future emperor. His size, athleticism, and a speak-softly-but-carry-a-big-stick presence have the potential to breakout with international fans if they see enough of him. Alas, that could be the tricky part (as it has been for Nguyen), considering Pagoda was released in 2010 to celebrate the millennial of Ly’s founding of Hanoi as the new Capitol city.

Likewise, the young actor playing Ly while still a Pagoda Boy has tremendous moves and similarly impressive screen charisma. Understanding the demands of villainy, Vu Dinh Toán’s prince aptly chews the scenery and preens like a peacock, embodying the absolute antithesis of the ramrod-straight Ly.

Frankly, it is strange Pagoda has not been more widely seen on the festival circuit. Cinematographer Dominic Pereira has an eye for spectacle and Nguyen coaches a game cast through some satisfyingly cinematic combat. It is a really strong fusion of prestige historical drama with crowd pleasing action. Highly recommended for martial arts fans, The Prince and the Pagoda Boy screens this Wednesday (7/8) and Thursday (7/9), as part of New Vietnamese Cinema 2015 at the Honolulu Art Museum.