Showing posts with label to Fredrik. Show all posts
Showing posts with label to Fredrik. Show all posts

Saturday, 10 May 2014

The fourth letter, 2014-05-10, to Fredrik

Hello Fredrik,

For the whole week I have been looking forward to this moment, when I can finally sit down in tranquility (with a cuppa of course) and write to you. And here I am. It's hard to pinpoint what exactly kept me from having such a moment, but my globe-trotting with filmPolska and Korean film festival in town are one of the good reasons.

Speaking of independent film festivals here, I find the Q&A session very intriguing. The audience is much more direct than in the UK and hence provides more unpolished materials for my observation. After Floating Skyscrapers (2013), all the questions, mostly coming from Polish expatriates, focused on how the film does not portray positive images of the gay community in Poland and how they don't want to see more depressing Polish films. After Han Gong-ju (2013), one German girl asked the filmmaker if in Korean there is a social support network for women in crisis at all. In the former case the audience craves to see their motherland being portrayed as a utopia and bringing uplifting messages to the world, whereas in the latter case film-viewing as virtual travelling makes the audience view a foreign film in search for information instead of cinematic experience. It would be interesting to think about how the role of images has changed since we entered an age of media-saturation or maybe how the present role of images approximates that at the time of L'arrivĂ©e d'un train en gare de la Ciotat (1896) more than ever.

Another example of how we tend to believe in “representation” and images' proximity to us, at a time when images are so accessible and almost every device we have in our handbag creates images, would be the Berliner's general enthusiasm for Ai Weiwei's exhibition at Martin-Gropius-Bau at the moment. Some art critics did express their disappointment and scepticism, but judging from the massive queue and the spectator's messages on a sketchbook, I sense that the majority finds it “creative” and “special” according to some expressions being used. For me, however, this exhibition is exactly the opposite, because of his over-representation of himself and his eagerness to sell his definition of Chineseness. Here and now were re-rendered without enough digestion, which prevents art works from being timelessness.

If Zeitgeist has to be a timeless understanding of a certain period, it would have to come from a gaze beyond oneself. Some artists don't need much temporal or spatial distance to acquire this kind of gaze and to transform the timely into timelessness, and this is what Jia and Hou have and Ai does not. It is also from this perspective that I think Jia Zhangke's works on the 90s and post-2000 are artistically more insightful than Hou. Have you watched A Touch of Sin? It is definitely the best film I watched last year, at same time grounded and universal.

Going back to your question of Flight of the Red Balloon (2007). Maybe cross-cultural improvisation doesn't work as well as what Hou would have hoped, but I loved it, especially the transformation of Juliette Binoche into a Parisian version of Li Tien-lu in The Puppetmaster (1993) and the character Song as an unusual Chinese woman in the western setting. She is a “seer” like Kuanmei in A City of Sadness (1989) and Jiang Bi-yu in Good Men, Good Women (1995), as well as the stabilising force in turmoils.

                                               Yun-hua





Saturday, 19 April 2014

The second letter, 2014-04-19, to Fredrik

Dear Fredrik,

Thank you for the heart-warming first post! You were the first and only person that came to my mind when I thought of doing an epistolary film blog, and I was very happy to find your response the same enthusiastic. I am sure a lot of green tea would be drunk and I am looking forward to seeing where our shared journey on the web would take us.

Goodbye South, Goodbye (1996) is an opportune choice, not only because I, to some extent, said goodbye to the south. More interestingly, it can open up a discussion on “our favourite Hou”. I don't think we actually talked much about Hou back in our St Andrews years. While waiting to see if Hou's first martial art film, The Assassin (2014), would actually become my favourite Hou, for the time being I am including the Taiwan Trilogy (1989-1995), Flowers of Shanghai (1998) and Three Times (2005) in my shortlist (maybe not that short after all). I do like Goodbye South, Goodbye, but for me this film, along with Hou's other attempts on capturing the Zeitgeist of my generation, like Daughter of the Nile (1987) and Millennium Mambo not as profound and timeless as his gaze towards the past. Without getting into a discussion on Deleuzian Time-images, I find that Hou's depiction of memories and historical trajectories is of a much broader scope and touches upon helplessness of human existence to such a level that makes me deeply sad but lucid during every single viewing. One does not need to be familiar with the geopolitical context of the island in order to see the beauty of irrevocably turbulent past shared by individuals who simply drift along. Yet I never quite get the same sensation from Hou's view of the contemporary. One might think that there is definitely something global in decadent young life under neon streets lights, but I somehow doubt that this is conveyed at all in Zhu Tianwen's script, as much as I admire all her writings; I find that Hou's films about the present are often characterised by repetitive and twisted dialogues, and actors' extradiegetic public images often override their presence on screen. This chain of thoughts also leads me to question how we deal with our own present artistically. How remote do we have to be from ourselves in order to acquire certain lucidity? Is that why we are so obsessed with cinematic rendering of different versions of apocalypse, as we cannot look at ourselves straight into the eyes? Here are my initial thoughts. Happy Easter holidays!

                                                                      Yun-hua