[轉載] 無所畏懼的執著【漂浪青春】

人無癡狂枉少年，年輕歲月的記憶總叫人難耐，不管同性與異性都有追尋真愛的執著，那執著有時如火一般足以令人毀滅殆盡，有時卻像蜜糖一樣甜膩得令人不敢恭維。

【漂浪青春】不斷對觀眾訴諸現代社會中彩虹世界所面臨的問題與爭議性，例如男同志與女同志彼此假結婚，以表示對異性戀世界之規範的交代或妥協，還有半男娘的T進女廁時所遭受的狐疑眼光，或是重男輕女及家產傳男不傳女的偏頗觀念嚴重貶低女性的價值，亦或是男同志被異性戀者辱罵為變態…等等，這些因素皆促使同志被迫成為弱勢者的一環。導演極為誠懇地顯現這些問題，使得觀者進入省思的情緒之中。

此外，導演也在自我指涉：對同志身份的指涉、還有對電影作品的指涉。原本是梁若施與楊丞琳的【刺青】，卻在本片講述男同志的第二段落中，藉由電影海報張貼的方式轉移成男同志的愛戀，也許這是導演慣於在作品裡輸入詼諧的元素之一。但這樣的幽默手法，竟也達成打破性別差異疆界之效果。因為，我們已經很明確地知道這是彩虹電影了。所以，即使是將女女之戀改為男男之戀也合情合理，一樣會令我們產生角色認同且不感到唐突。

導演歷年的電影作品總是充滿如嘉年華會式的熱鬧，而且不斷在製造作品與作品之間，文本和文本的關聯性或相似性，尤其在紀錄片【私角落】中，已經隱約可窺探出這樣的風格：繽紛的扮裝皇后、閃亮的歌舞秀，以及動人的懷舊歌曲、從繁華到落寞的失落感…，還有比喻為同志戀情的火車，或車站等等象徵物，皆延續到【漂浪青春】。有別於上部作品【刺青】，本片更深層地探討同志之間的情感，表達程度極為細緻，更能勾起觀者心中無限的悸動。因為不再是單純的唯美浪漫，而是注入了悲觀的元素：現實，使得本片在真實性比起上兩部作品更加容易觸動人心。

另外，在【漂浪青春】裡頻頻出現台灣的民俗廟會、懷舊的歌曲、國台語的混雜、野台布袋戲與野台歌舞團的競爭…等等，不僅代表了台灣傳統社會逐步轉型的符號，也意味著現代多元文化的融合，使得同志這弱勢團體得以逐漸明朗化，甚至可以創造屬於自己的發聲源，這是【漂浪青春】中唯一潛藏的樂觀。

本片大量運用歌曲與配樂來醞釀並激發觀影者的情緒，再加上影像的視覺刺激，如詩般地意境令人如痴如醉，似乎拍電影彷如在寫一首詩集一樣，斷裂式的剪接依舊表達清晰的意圖，記憶的回溯產生幻像，如此真實卻怎樣也找不到當下的歷史痕跡。

水蓮（陸弈靜 飾）的阿斯海默症，還有阿彥不知何去何從的心境？在在顯現兩人對於未來存在感的薄弱，一個是難以忘懷逝去的同志愛人而失去主體意識，活在封閉的回憶裡；一個則是感染愛滋卻還遭受愛人的出軌對待，因而逐漸喪失生存的慾望：致使兩人將心中所壓抑的情緒，宣洩在彼此身上。

水蓮將阿彥當作逝去的愛人阿海，緊咬著阿彥不肯放手，阿彥厭惡身份被移置與病魔纏身，因而兩人從開始激烈爭吵，到最後給予彼此一絲生存的希望與原動力，甚至逐漸相依為命，最終結束在具有象徵意義的火車裡。這象徵意義猶如在這異性戀社會中令同性戀感到窒息的體制下唯一得以喘息的希望，還有得以打散異質性；冗長的車廂，綿延不絕的軌道恰如兩人之間愛戀的情感，至死不渝的永遠與承諾，不僅僅只是異性戀的權威，也可以是同性戀的冀望。所以，本片的主要敘事軸線，皆以火車站或車廂來作為角色之間主要聯繫的關鍵點，然後再彼此交集、交錯、敘述。

【漂浪青春】的試片會結束在炙熱的午後，但我心裡頭卻是清透涼。影片中的美妙台語歌聲依舊迴盪在耳畔，布袋戲、廟會、眷村等等，都是我們台灣人共有的記憶。而我們這些同志們，從古至今就存在著，也用一樣的心去創造未來，也用一樣的態度去生活；而這些歷史，都是你我共同參與，不論男女、種族、性向…等等。

原文出處: Yahoo!奇摩電影

[Review] Winds of September

The boys of Winds of September.

Produced by Eric Tsang and Hong Kong-based Big Pictures Limited, Winds of September - The Taiwan Chapter is the first of three films from three different Asian countries, each telling the same basic story of youth and friendship, and how good intentions can't stop the inevitable, sometimes tragic end of innocence. Director Tom Lin Shu-Yu (Parachute Kids) is the originator of this concept, as all three films are based off his original script, which follows one year in the school lives of seven boys as they come to grips with change and conflict within their ranks. The Taiwan Chapter takes place specifically in 1997 in suburban Hsinchu, a medium-sized city south of Taipei, at the peak of the Chinese Professional Baseball League's popularity. At the time, the fledgling professional sports league was beset by a game-fixing scandal, mirroring the disillusionment and loss of hope felt by the young boys muddling through their quietly desperate lives.

Tang (Chang Chieh) is one of seven friends of varying high school years. Collectively, the group is known as a bunch of troublemakers, though some of the gang are worse than others. The charismatic assumed leader is Yen (Rhydian Vaughan), a handsome playboy whose prim girlfriend Yun (Jennifer Chu) has to put up with incessant stories of his infidelity. The problem reaches a tipping point when Yen sleeps with another girl and her angry boyfriend comes calling. Tang is mistaken for Yen and assaulted in his place, and the incident ultimately drives a minor wedge in the group. The situation is exacerbated by the other boys' individual conflicts and issues, and Yen and Tang nearly have a falling out. The two do seem to patch things up, but the cracks in the group's camaraderie begin to worsen. Some boys are pressured to drop the group, while others continue to misbehave, ignoring the damage it may have on their future. Ultimately, the boys' aimlessness results in a tragedy that further drives them apart, revealing the anger, cowardice, fear, jealousy, and helplessness that lives within them.

Winds of September is a second feature for director Tom Lin, whose facility with the Taiwan Cinema house style (picturesque settings, sharp cinematography, slow pacing, generous visual storytelling) gives his film an air of quality most other features would envy. The film's superficial trappings are exceptionally impressive, such that one may feel that the obvious surface quality also exists underneath. Lin does make his characters distinct, giving them personality and charisma, but the situations don't necessarily extend beyond what's obvious. Lin sketches his situations and characters sharply, but despite the drama inherent in his subject matter, Lin never seems to draw the film away from tried-and-true formula. This is a youth film about misbehaving youth, so they're going to have fun, fight, get into trouble, and eventually get in over their heads. Ultimately, what happens to them is expected and even perfunctory because, well, that's what always happens in these films.

Not that there's anything wrong with conventional movies, especially ones that feel as quality as this one. Winds of September doesn’t do much to make it necessarily stand out, but it possesses a variety of promising, attractive new faces, plus it assembles its elements exceptionally well. Sometimes style (even non-flashy, contemplative style) can make the generic more substantial, and Tom Lin assembles a fine package, getting effective performances from his cast, and making their generic conflicts come to matter. Furthermore, Lin's portrait of Taiwan is undeniably pretty to look at it, and is beautifully captured by art director Lee Tien-Chue and cinematographer Fisher Yu. Hsinchu is more suburban than Taipei, and possesses an idyllic rural charm that perfectly fits the film's coming-of-age themes. Also, the use of the historically-accurate baseball scandal is intriguing, echoing the boys' maturation and changing emotions well. Winds of September is not fully-realized, and lacks the depth or complexity to take it to another level of achievement. But for a second feature, it's a fine effort, and one worthy of support.


Review Source and Credit: Kozo, loveHKFilm

[轉載] 三種女性，三種家庭 《艾草》（Artemisia）

在探討嚴肅的家庭問題背後，導演包裝的不是狗血的煽情或造作的親情，而是以輕喜劇的筆調來呈現角色性格，如：視錢如命的外婆。以充滿幽默逗趣的詮釋來述說三代間不同的社會價值觀的衝突關係。而這不是部單純的同志電影，影片所處理的是更複雜的家庭與社會道德間的矛盾。



故事講述母親吳艾草自丈夫去逝後便獨自撫養兩個小孩長大，大女兒在法國留學，兒子則是教科書的銷售員，某天女兒回國卻帶著與黑人所生的小孩，使艾草極度忿怒，認為簡直是喪失道德，使她無顏以對外人的眼光，而自己的母親更是無法諒解這醜事，在這不愉快的日子中母親更發現自己的兒子真正的性向，原來是個同性戀，受到舊社會道德灌輸的她，如何重新整理腳步面對自己最愛的人。



此片不同以往同志電影之處在於，故事中的核心議題最後並非圍繞在出櫃的問題，反而以未婚生子為詮釋的核心，但其實最終也有同樣的意念與戲劇效果，在意念上表達了母親傳統保守觀念的一面，在戲劇上則是家庭衝突與描寫。這樣的安排打破了一般我們對同志電影的觀影期待（掙扎、出櫃、革命、共識或遺憾），形成一種新鮮的觀影經驗。



影片開始艾草正躺在舒適的椅上休息，耳邊播放著古典樂，家中的一切都擺設的整齊美觀，鏡頭更緩慢的捕捉母親愉快享受的模樣，突然一個男子出現，我們才知原來眼前美好的一切是在樣品屋中，這介紹艾草的開場相當具有巧思，從銷售員的口中得知這樣品屋是三代同堂的設計，這便隱喻著他心底某種對兒子結婚生子後生活的盼望。導演更透過樣品屋的假象營造出幸福美滿的生活樣貌，但馬上便戳破這虛幻的假象，也就預示了艾草夢想的生活（三代同堂）是遙不可及的夢想罷了。



艾草是個思想保守的中年婦女，和自己母親一樣都遵守著儒家社會中僵化的（該死的）父權思想：「三從四德」。而艾草的母親更是傳統社會下的女性，在她的價值觀中女性「無才便是德」，早點嫁人了事，不然乾脆做尼姑好了。所以她對艾草花了大筆積蓄供女兒出國留學相當的不以為然，由這點便可看出兩代間觀念上的逐漸改變，其後我們也可知道艾草當年不顧母親的反對嫁了外省人，在當時本外省強烈對立的時代，也算是需要一場家庭革命的。



在艾草衝鋒陷陣完了後的二十多年，現在變成她要面對自己家中新世代的新變革，未婚生子的女兒，並且是與法國黑人的小孩，在此的觀念距離上，母親抱持著傳統的婚姻理念：立業成家後才養兒育女。但在受高過等教育的女兒眼中，女性不再應該只依賴男性，她對自己的行為有所負責，是標準新女性的表徵，結婚不再是情感唯一的歸宿，她們強調自我存在的價值觀念更勝過社會道德的束縛。但然片中也表現女兒在自由思想的態度與行為下所犯的問題，她從父權社會中掌握了自我，但面對自己的女兒，沒有父親的女兒，她勢必在自我生活選擇下某些程度上犧牲了女兒沒有父親的問題。另外，母親不諒解女兒未婚生子的行為，這不禁讓我思索到，如果今天是兒子未婚生子，那母親的態度又是如何？



對祖母的描寫多半是帶著幽默的調性來刻劃，雖然表現出她是個幾近守財奴的性格，對有關於錢的事物都斤斤計較，絲毫不放過可以賺錢或省錢的機會，當得知自己女兒的孫子是個私生子後，更是難以諒解，認為往後自己顏面盡失以後將無地自容。這些看似負面的角色形象，其實這背後有著不可忽視的社會傳統與歷史發展，祖母也許性格上便小氣，但也可推溯到她當年也許長期生活在動盪的時代，以致養成她對錢財的重視與珍惜，而她身為女性卻缺乏女性自覺，也就說明了傳統體制下的女性，在教育上的缺乏，維繫生活與傳宗接待才是她們的社會理念。所以祖母許多負面的表現是蘊含著更多社會與歷史歲月的軌跡於其中，導演在此以風趣的方式詮釋，不僅生動也將祖母的刻板觀念與行為舉止，轉化為令人會心一笑的幽默。



在兒子的描繪上，他其實對母親相當孝順與關心，只是在男性那不善表達情感的心理下，有他們自我一套的表現方式，在一場母親等兒子回家的戲中，媽媽睡在沙發上等他回家，當兒子回到家看見縮在沙發上的母親，便小心的關門，然後拿起母親手中的搖控器，母親醒來後，兒子以不悅的口氣指則她睡沙發容易感冒，並且不用特地等自己回家。在這聽似不客氣的言語下其實不難看出他對母親的愛與關切，是相當細膩的表現。



經由這三代間的家庭問題與衝突，導演相當有條理的處理各世代所面臨的限制與問題，並且帶出彼此的連結關係，也看到三種不同的女性樣貌：貪小便宜，女子無才便是德，有省籍對立情結的祖母、傳統保守的母親與掌握自我權力的女兒。在這些衝突矛盾之下，我們無法草率的對任何角色進行批評，雖然她們各自有自我不同層面的限制，如：愛面子。這也是人性脆弱的一面，而且這也是一種社會文化的影響，我們應該更深入看到這背後的社會與文化意義，所造就的成因，再進而思考與反省。然後再來觀看未婚生子的女兒與同性戀的兒子。


原文出處: 八又幾分之幾的影思

[Review] God Man Dog

Tarcy Su (left) and Han Cheng (right) admire the traveling Buddha in God Man Dog.

Don't pull the plug just yet - Taiwanese director Singing Chen proves that Taiwanese cinema hasn't reduced itself to only making teen movies and Europe-friendly arthouse flicks with God Man Dog. Taking a cue from the recent spate of ensemble films, Chen explores the lives of Taiwanese people of different backgrounds who come together as the result of a car accident. Despite using a similar event and featuring similar themes, this isn't just 21 Grams in Taiwan. In fact, God Man Dog transcends the heavy drama of the Iñárritu film and become something uniquely Taiwanese, and yet with universal emotions.

The film starts off with the emotionally heavy stuff quickly. First, a professional hand model Ching (Tracy Su) suffers from post-natal depression and a bit of paranoia, but her architect husband Hsuing (Han Chang, older brother of Chang Chen) has no idea how to deal with it, driving their marriage to the brink of collapse. Meanwhile, a Taiwanese Aborigine couple struggles to overcome alcoholism while also trying to repair their relationship with their daughter Savi, who was sent off to the city because of past troubles with her parents. Lastly, Yellow Bull (Jack Gao, whose performance was nominated at the Asian Film Awards) is an amputee who is saving up for a new prosthetic leg through his day job, driving a giant illuminated Buddha to various temples for religious festivals. One day, he encounters a young stowaway (Yi Yi's Jonathan Chang, all grown up) with an insatiable appetite and a talent for hiding in buses.

In typical ensemble fashion, these stories will all come together, though not in a way one might expect. While a few of these plot lines do converge into a single incident, the events of God Man Dog do not surround this one incident. Chen is more interested in developing these plots as individual narratives, though the decisions some of the characters make do end up affecting one another. Surprisingly, these effects usually result in amused chuckles. While most dramas would start light and build towards an emotional climax, Chen and co-writer Yi-An Lou choose to go the other way; they weigh the film down with heavy emotions in the first half, then lighten things up in the second half with considerable humor. Chen seems to genuinely care for her characters, and she refuses to keep them emotionally tortured in favor of heightening audience emotions. This could be strange for some audiences, who may find God Man Dog to be a surprisingly light effort in the end.

Amazingly enough, the transition works. God Man Dog still deals with serious themes such as alcoholism, paranoia, depression, redemption, and religion throughout - and yet it can also include a darkly funny sequence involving two underage girls pretending to be prostitutes in order to rob their customers. These extremes exist because Chen doesn't exploit the serious themes, using traumatic experiences to build her characters rather then using them to test the characters' limits. However, Chen sometimes jumps between the stories too often in the first half, moving from one tragic event to another without giving the audience a chance to get involved in the individual stories. Nevertheless, the real fun in watching such ensemble films is seeing how these characters are connected, and God Man Dog's answer to that question is satisfying enough that the stories are able to come into their own.

The film's success can also be attributed to the performances. Jack Gao, known for playing mob characters, changes his image significantly for a subtle performance as the handicapped Yellow Bull. As the moral center of the film, Bull is the strongest character in the film despite being the most physically vulnerable. Gao's performance, as well as the screenplay, helps the character make a lasting impression on the audience - and this is without the benefit of any "give me an award"-style moments. On the other hand, Tarcy Su is given many of those moments as the emotionally unstable Ching. The singer/actress handles her heavy role capably, though her character is also sometimes frustrating and unlikable.

God Man Dog is not necessarily mainstream filmmaking because of its heavy themes, excessive symbolism (the dogs are cute, but a little too much) and a potentially confusing, broad canvas of characters. However, it doesn't come even close to the level of alienating arthouse films in the style of Hou Hsiao-Hsien and Tsai Ming-Liang. It's a genuine attempt at ambitious storytelling that rewards - not punishes - involved audiences with its payoff. With solid performances, an impressive screenplay, beautiful cinematography, and a stirring score by Hiromichi Sakamoto, God Man Dog proves that there is still hope for Taiwanese cinema.


Article Source and Credits: Kevin Ma and LoveHKFilm.com

[轉載] 變調的青春──九降風

一直想看的《九降風》，卻因為種種原因不斷的推遲，重新上映時也沒能趕上，終於，等到DVD出來，我選擇在深夜一個人慢慢品嚐。在看之前只知道這是一部談高中生活的影片，還以為又是一部《藍色大門》、《盛夏光年》或《夏天的尾巴》，但直到片子的後半，當悲劇的底牌一張張掀開後，我的淚水告訴我，《九降風》不一樣。它不只是青春熱血的回味，也不是在曲終人散前戛然而止的淡淡失落。它不玩同性間的曖昧情感，也沒有甜美單純的戀情(雖然並不是不喜歡之前的青春片，但我很開心九降風有了不同的聚焦)。於是我喜歡《九降風》的直接，喜歡裡面對男生友情的豪邁刻畫，喜歡那些真實但美麗的畫面場景，最心痛那些深沉轉折處所勾勒的幻滅與離散，然後慢慢回想起自己的中學生活，那些經歷過或不曾涉足的離經叛道，那群如今已不再聯絡、漸漸忘卻面孔的人。





一起加油吶喊過的棒球場，相互等待的榕樹下，在半夜翻牆溜進去裸泳的游泳池，天台上談不玩的無聊話和抽不完的煙……在十六、七歲的年紀，誰不曾大夥一吆喝就攜手做盡叛逆的、受大人指責的「壞事」呢？這是一群老師教官眼中的「壞學生」的故事，他們總是敢於揮霍青春的瀟灑與無畏，承擔著眾人又妒又羨的目光。我想起國中時坐在我身邊的男孩們，他們其實並不是壞，只是厭倦規規矩矩的生活，只是無法催眠自己去遵循制式的教條。所以我從不害怕他們，反而偷偷羨慕他們的自由，又惋惜這個社會對脫軌而出的人從不留情。





然而，當七個大男孩終無法逃過誤會的染指、意外的突襲和嫌隙漸生的猜忌，當有人提早從生命離席，有人被驅離開熟悉的校園時，那些嬉鬧放肆過的回憶也不得不蒙上命運無情的陰影。就像曾經吸引多少球迷目光，匯聚多少汗水口號的職棒，最後也被黑道簽賭給慢慢的粉碎未來。當曾經的美好漸漸腐壞，我們所能做的似乎只有低頭走出球場，從青春畢業。





但結局似乎又並不那麼悲觀，當小湯毅然翹掉畢業典禮、選擇一張直達屏東的車票時，他緊抱著那一箱球，就像是保護好了所有的過往，呼應片頭他回憶這段年少輕狂、那閉起眼猶能聽見的震耳欲聾的加油聲。不管到最後走在身邊的還是不是那同一群兄弟，擁有過就不會遺忘、就沒有遺憾，就像新竹的陣風，一天天不曾停歇的在心上掀起漣漪。





美中不足的是兩個女主角的戲分和表演空間不大，我很期待的紀培慧只有在打開頂樓那扇門的段落，較有情緒的重量，而另一位初家晴的角色設定也落入窠臼的讓我有些失望。不過，這本就是片著重於男孩子友情的記述吧，女孩在裡面或許只能是旁觀者或美麗的點綴。



已經離開我們的張雨生，還在片尾唱著「我期待」，這首被許多畢業生傳唱默記的歌。青春縱然是已然逝去了，但我們仍然期待，有一天可以回去，「回到我最初的愛 回到童真的神采」，然後也許有一天，我們也會「明白人世的至愛 明白人世的情懷」。

原文出處: Always on the Side of the Egg

[轉載] 面對「殘缺」的流浪神狗人

去年金馬影展看了「流浪神狗人」。我一向對描寫小人物或社會底層的故事有興趣，因此那成為我去年唯一在影展看的國片。流浪神狗人--從字面上看，便可知道他有三個訴說元素：流浪的神，流浪的人，流浪的狗。如果有點宗教或是結構觀念，可以發覺這是三種不同層次的東西，但卻同樣給了漂泊之感。

1895 in Formosa - A Forgotten History Re-Interpreted

[ About the Film ]

After losing the Sino-Japanese war (甲午戰爭) in 1894, the imperial Chinese government signed the Treaty of Shimonoseki (馬關條約) with the Japanese Empire, giving Taiwan and Penghu to Japan. Groups of Taiwanese wishing to defend their own land and identity, organized armed resistance against the Japanese troops and established the Taiwan Republic, a “Republic” that only lasted five days before all the Chinese high officials fled back to China when the Japanese troops landed in the northern fishing village of Taiwan. All of those who were left, including this Hakka group in the middle part of Taiwan, had to fight for what they believe in all on their own, without the assistance promised to them, to the very end. What follows after 1895, was a Japanese reign lasting for half a century.”


[ Documenting One’s Own History ]

Out of the many Taiwanese films I’ve watched so far, what makes 1895 one of the most moving films is the fact that it attempts to recapture the patriotism and struggle of a minority group in Taiwan in maintaining their own heritage and cultural identity against the intruders in an important transitional period in Taiwan history. The plot is based on real people and historical incidence; the main language spoken in the film is not Mandarin nor Taiwanese (Fukien) but Hakka – a less familiar dialect spoken by Taiwanese with the Hakka ancestral heritage. The film amplifies the determination of a small group of Hakka farmers and educated thinkers untrained in modern military warfare sets about giving their lives in defending their home and ways of living, however small their force might be to the rising Japanese Empire.

It is not a film about the monstrosity of war like most war documentary with shocking and gruesome images. It is rather a film that explores the mixed emotions of the invaders, the defenders and the family back home. The Japanese Prince, who was in command of the conquest of Taiwan, appears as a well-educated man who wants peaceful reconciliation rather than the eventual “wiping out” of all that came against his troop. Young Japanese soldiers who are dying of epidemic beg their doctor to lie to their family that they died gloriously in battlefield. The mothers and wives back home in the Hakka village carried on with their everyday work away from the horror of the battlefield, fearing that every time their husband or son leaves would be their last time seeing them but could not stop them from leaving them again. The home-defenders, being betrayed by the Chinese high officials who urged them to rise up and fight for their land and people, are left with broken promise for supplies, support and dream, and had to fight their way to the very end, which ultimately means death alone.


When I watched the film in a Taipei cinema, during a Q&A period with the film director and the leading male actor after the film, many in the audience were in tears. Many were touched by the fact that someone has finally made a film based on their people’s history. A young girl in the audience whose ancestors happened to be from the family (天水堂) in which the film was based burst out tearing as she thanked the film director and production team for documenting their history. Others were surprised to learn about this part of history and were moved by the sentiment and burst out cheering “國片加油!” (“Support Taiwanese Films!”).


Historical happenings are often the subject for film makers to develop into stories that would draw many viewers to the film makers' interpretation of the historical events and to remind people that certain things will never be forgotten although time has moved on. For 1895 in Formosa, the stories of a minotiry group in Taiwan defending for what they believe in at period of political instability reminds or introduces a chaptern in history that history itself might have forgotten.

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Taken from Original publication by Tiffany Lee (perladipace)
刊登於多倫多大學台灣同學會 ROCSAUT 冬季社刊 2009.
Published in University of Toronto ROCSAUT (R.O.C. Student Association U. of Toronto) Publication Winter 2009.