SIFF ’18: The Bold, the Corrupt, and the Beautiful

Nothing drives corruption like government land use policy. Of course, if you throw in some illicit sex and jealousy, things can really get explosive. The Tang family will find themselves in the eye of a brewing storm when their loves and lusts exacerbate a political scandal in Yang Ya-che’s shamelessly entertaining The Bold, the Corrupt, and the Beautiful (trailer here), which screens during the Seattle International Film Festival.

Madame Tang is ostensibly just an antiquities dealer, but she has leveraged her position as the widow of a revered general to become a behind-the-scenes political power broker. She has essentially given up grooming her oldest daughter Tang Ning, whose disgust at her mother’s amoral machinations manifests in various forms of self-medication (sex, booze, pills, awkward scenes in public). Instead, her youngest daughter, fourteen-ish Tang Chen most often assumes co-hostess duties.

In anticipation of a major developed project, Madame Tang has guided her political associates to buy up parcels in an otherwise sleepy rural district, using shell companies. Her circle of influence includes the regal wife of the speaker and up-and-coming legislator Lin, whose family is the Tangs’ nearest neighbors. However, the deal starts to fall apart when the Lin family is mysteriously massacred in their home. Only their teenage daughter Lin Pien-pien survives, but only just barely, in a comatose state. Tang Chen will be assigned her bedside vigil, even though her relationship with the somewhat older teen is complicated—just like everything else having to do with the Tangs.

Like Yang’s Girlfriend Boyfriend, Bold is set in Taiwan during the 1980s, but they feel like they are worlds apart. While his previous film is unabashedly earnest, Bold is dark, twisted, and maybe even a little lurid, but it sure is fun to watch the Tang family and their associates behave spectacularly badly. There is always another shoe left to drop, but Yang primary and over-riding concern is always Madame Tang’s dysfunctional relationships with her daughters. Gosh, this would be such a nice film for Mother’s Day viewing.

Speaking of mothers, the great Kara Wai [Hui] (amid her latest career renaissance) knocks it out of the park as the sly, string-pulling Madame Tang. One knowing look from her is worth more than a mountain of CGI effects. Of course, we always knew she was awesome. Probably the biggest surprise is Wu Ke-xi, who is best known for her remarkably bold but naturalistic work in Midi Z’s docu-like films. As the hot mess sister Tang Ning, she proves she can preen, seduce, and Dynasty-slap fiercer than anyone. Holy cats, can she ever burn up the screen. Yet, Vicky Chen (a.k.a. Qi Chen, who was such a revelation in Angels Wear White) hangs with them both as the deceptively innocent-looking, utterly destabilizing Tang Chen.

Bold is a deliciously cynical film that is also kind of trashy, but in the best way possible. Frankly, it would be fitting if Madame Tang warned viewers to buckle-up their seat belts, a la late Bette Davis, because this is definitely a roller coaster ride. It is just your basic sarcastic political melodrama, with a considerable body-count, so what’s not to like? Very highly recommended, The Bold, the Corrupt, and the Beautiful screens tonight (5/19), next Saturday (5/26), and the following Monday (5/28), as part of this year’s SIFF.

NYAFF ’17: The Road to Mandalay

It sounds exotic, but Hope & Crosby never traveled like Lianqing and Guo. The Burmese migrants will pay stiff fees and endure rough conditions, just so they can work like dogs in Bangkok. Things ought to be easier if they stick together, but it might not necessarily work out that way in Midi Z’s The Road to Mandalay (trailer here), which screens during this year’s New York Asian Film Festival.

Upon arriving in Bangkok, Lianqing gets a surprisingly frosty reception from her cousin. It seems the embittered Hua has recently lost her job due to lack of proper documentation and expects Lianqing will fare even worse. The only people to show her any kindness are their other roommate Cai and Guo, who took her place in the trunk during the arduous trek over the border. Although awkward, he is clearly determined to romantically pursue her—and she cannot deny his work ethic.

Unfortunately, they have different medium-term goals. She wants to attain Thai citizenship (or at least a passable facsimile) so she can ultimately work in Taiwan, whereas he would like to open a clothes-hawking stall in Bangkok. The more circumstance force them together, the more their conflicting goals cause tension in their relationship.

Probably no filmmaker has been more proactive documenting the experiences of refugees, migrant workers, and the generally dispossessed than Z has, in both his documentaries and narrative films. His star ought to be sky-rocketing right now, but the Taiwan-based Burmese expat has focused on his countrymen and other ethnic minorities in China. The sad truth is the world does not care about Buddhist immigrants from Burma. The professionally compassionate can only be bothered with Muslim immigrants, preferably from Syria. The Burmese need not apply.

Indeed, that is the reception that waits for Lianqing in Thailand. Of course, Bangkok being Bangkok, the threat of sexual exploitation always lurks in the background. Perhaps it is intended as a symbolic interlude, but when the film finally descends into the world of prostitution, it becomes bizarrely disturbing, in a way viewers will never expect.

Without question, Road is the most muscular and focused narrative of Z’s career. As usual, his regular muse Wu Ke-xi is absolutely arresting as the innocent-but-tougher-than-she-looks Lianqing. In a drastic change of pace, Tiny Times co-star Kai Ko plays the confused and brooding Guo, wearing his heart and his resentments on his sleeve. He and Wu convincingly show us the couple’s good days and bad.

Road will leave viewers angry but unsure at whom or what—possibly Z.  He certainly isn’t afraid of strong reactions, that’s for sure. He also shows an acute sensitivity towards the poor and marginalized, while Wu once again delivers a mature, eerily expressive performance. Recommended for patrons of topical art cinema and fans of Z or Wu, The Road to Mandalay screens this Monday (7/3) at the Walter Reade, as part of the 2017 NYAFF.

Midi Z at Asia Society: Poor Folk

As any Russian novel will tell you, poverty sure make life complicated, in a bad way. Burmese migrant worker A-hong understand the truth of that better than anyone. He has slipped into Thailand on some risky undocumented business, necessitated by his parents’ unthinkable decision. Despite the references to Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, it is a predatory world out there on the streets of Bangkok and in the backrooms of border towns like Dagudi, as we see up-close in Midi Z’s sophomore film, Poor Folk (trailer here), which concludes Homecoming Myanmar: A Midi Z Retrospective, the first American survey of Z’s work.

A-hong and A-fu are sort of the Laurel and Hardy of dodgy border crossing crime. The younger A-hong is small and nervous, while the older A-fu is a paunchy big talker. The latter has been in Bangkok much longer, but he still does not have a lot to show for his scheming. They have both gotten themselves involved in a drug trafficking operation. In Thailand that is a really bad idea, but A-hong needs money fast to buy back the little sister his family reluctantly sold to human traffickers.

This trafficking often flows through Dagudi, where Sun-mei (as usual, played by Z’s muse Wu Ke-xi) is marking time. She is waiting for a forged Taiwanese identity card from her shadowy employer, but he has been in no hurry to deliver. These two stories will intersect at a bitterly sorrowful nexus, but first we witness the ultimate tragedy produced by such circumstances.

Despite a bit of narrative doubling-back, Poor Folk is a far cry from Pulp Fiction. Stylistically, it is consistent with Z’s prior and subsequent films, Return to Burma and Ice Poison, examining the lives of the marginalized and dispossessed with an unvarnished naturalistic focus. These are street films, about street people, filmed at street-level.

Through Asia Society’s retrospective, one can get a sense of Wu Ke-xi’s range playing very different Sun-meis. Here she is both victim and victimizer, embodying the kick-down nature of this sort of nakedly exploitative enterprise. Essentially, Wang Shin-hong’s A-hong is a precursor to the unstable drug-dealing naïf he subsequently played in Ice Poison, but it is still painful to watch him making terrible decisions. However, Zhao De-fu’s A-fu stands out as the sort of John Goodmanesque character unseen in Z’s other films. He has a big, energetic presence that often offers something close to comedic relief.

Throughout Poor Folk, Z depicts some terribly inhumane acts, but it is a deeply humanistic film. Just about everyone is simply stuck playing the crummy hand life dealt them. Nonetheless, the rather matter-of-fact look at human trafficking is quite disturbing, precisely because of Z opts for a fly-on-the-wall presentation rather than ginning up cheap outrage. Gritty and grim, Poor Folk is recommended for those with a taste for austere socially conscious drama when it screens this Friday (3/13), the final night of Homecoming Myanmar, at Asia Society.

Midi Z at Asia Society: The Palace on the Sea (short)

Homecomings are important to Taiwan-based Burmese filmmaker Midi Z. For the Burmese diaspora, coming home is a rare luxury. Within the Evangelical and Holiness traditions, the term “coming home” has multiple meanings. Such also seems to be the case for an exhausted Burmese migrant worker, even though she adheres to Buddhist teachings. Time and destiny blur together for her in Midi Z’s short film, The Palace on the Sea (trailer here), which screens with his debut feature, Return to Burma, as part of the Asia Society’s new film series, Homecoming Myanmar: A Midi Z Retrospective.

It was once a grand floating luxury restaurant, but now it is a floating ghost ship. Sanmei has come there, acting on an uncanny desire for a homecoming. Inside, past and present will intersect when she dances with her former husband, who has since become a Buddhist monk. Frankly, Palace is not exactly a plotty film, but it is rich with symbolism and meaning.

In just about every way, Palace represents a pronounced departure from Midi Z’s feature films. Unlike the rigorous naturalism of Return to Burma and Ice Poison, Palace is experimental and expressionistic. In his features, Midi Z’s aesthetic sensibilities are closely akin to the work of the independent Chinese filmmakers loosely affiliated with the Digital Generation (dGenerate) movement. Midi Z largely forgoes stylistic flourish, for the sake of his features’ intimacy and immediacy.

In general, that is probably a wise strategy, but Palace is a different sort of project. Here Midi Z wows the audience with a number of stunning tracking shots that fully exploit the cinematic nature of the ghost ship. It is a great looking film that proves he has the chops for showier work as well as his socially conscious films.

Yet, just like his features, Palace stars his muse, Wu Ke-xi. Arguably, the role of Sanmei is more about serving the needs of the film than an acting showcase, per se. Nonetheless, the film certainly proves she can dance. In fact, she brings a sensitive, nuanced presence that helps viewers engage on an emotional level rather than just taking in the spectacle of it all.

Palace is a perfect example of how heavily symbolic filmmaking often works better in short forms. During its fifteen minute running time, receptive viewers are likely to think: “okay, I get it and it looks very really cool” whereas in a feature that same initial response can deteriorate into: “okay, I get it already.” Those who have previously seen Midi Z’s feature length work really should check out Palace on the Sea, because it shows a whole different skillset they wouldn’t know he had. It screens tomorrow (3/7) with the more-or-less clandestinely shot, already historically significant Return to Burma at the Asia Society, as part of their Midi Z retro.