3 posts tagged “taiwanese new cinema”

Telling Stories

    When I started writing stories in second grade they were never very good despite being better written than my classmates' stories, which usually had to be dictated and modified by my teacher in order to make sense. While most of their ideas were original or based on personal experiences, mine often mimicked the movies I'd seen or the games I'd been playing. I guess I've always had a fondness for being influenced by other media forms. Still, my love for stories came about fairly early on in my life. By the time third grade rolled around I was already reading decent-length novels, and by fourth grade I had read both Jurassic Park and The Lost World: Jurassic Park twice, read practically every R.L. Stine book in existence, and had started writing my own science fiction novel, which has evolved over the years into something that I would have never expected - part of an amalgamation of stories and ideas for video games that I once thought had the potential to rival Star Wars.
    Somewhere during college I think I lost some of my creativity, in no small part thanks to the rigid Creative Writing department at UCSC and the fact that I had to write loads of academic essays for a multitude of classes. The problem I had was that in my creative writing classes I had no real control of the style and aesthetics I wanted to employ in my narratives, which often blurred the lines between reality and what one of my TAs called "genre" fiction. The department had a very narrow approach to writing in that it had to be non-commercial, stick well within the boundaries of a realist mode, and utilize a very plain (and now popularized) mantra of "show, don't tell" aesthetics. Frankly, I couldn't see how this was anymore creative than using the Schaeffer Method. It was after being rejected twice from UCSC's Creative Writing department that I realized that it would've been a mistake to deny myself the privilege to retain my own style and sense of creativity that I'd developed.

    In both my films and my writing I try to stick to my elements. There are certain things that I just like doing, not only because they're in the vein of other artists who I feel in tune with, but because they fit within the realm of what exactly I want to do. There are also a number of things like narrative tropes that I tend to utilize because they pertain to events in my life that I can't let go of (or want to). Tropes like a troubled relationship, cheating ex-girlfriends, and anonymous meetings. There are other tropes that I've come up with - as I said last time, I wrote out a list - though I've yet to use them in a finished product.
    Aesthetics are also key. Although I always used to 'think big' and plan things out that were far too advanced to be practical, I've developed a kind of minimalist attitude based on the work of some Taiwanese New Cinema directors like Tsai Ming-Liang and Hou Hsiao-Hsien, who let their characters tell the story while the camera - and audience - sit back and observe. That's something I want to achieve with Purgatory, once we get around to shooting it this summer. As with my narrative tropes, I have a list of techniques that I feel suit me best depending on the kind of story I'm telling and the mood I'm aiming for. Even though I've never really taken a production course (outside of a six-week summer course in which I learned almost nothing), I feel like it's for the best. Part of me wants to tell myself this is a bad thing, because in the real world of filmmaking there are certain rules you need to adhere to, certain techniques that you just have to know in order to even be able to be considered for a job. The other part of me slaps me in the face with memories of being rejected from the Creative Writing department, and simply asks, "Do you really want to be just like them? Just like everyone else?"

    There's a certain freedom in doing things your own way. Sure, it might be more difficult to gain acceptance and acknowledgment, but at least you can revel in the fact that you're doing what most people can't/don't/won't. You're standing on your own two legs without the aid of manuals and guides telling you how to tell a story. Seriously, if everyone stuck to these rules and aesthetics, wouldn't everyone's work be exactly the same?

(PS: I realize I'm a day late in posting this entry, but it couldn't be helped. Having a full-time job in which I have to wake up at 6AM every morning is more hectic than I thought, and a friend from out of town came down for the day. I'll start blogging the night before from here on.)

    This past week I was finally able to watch Hou Hsiao-Hsien's A City of Sadness. Ever since coming to college I've been trying to explore the Chinese side of my identity, mainly because up until college I was never considered as such. In high school everyone always saw me as white because of the way I looked; I guess it was expected, seeing as the majority of my high school was made up of Chinese kids, many of them actually from China. Since coming to college it's been the opposite. For once, I'm actually being considered Chinese (due in part to my open regard for my own "hapa"-ness), and it's a great feeling to be accepted ... for once.
   As I mentioned briefly in my last post, I'm interested in researching the Taiwanese New Cinema movement which took place in the 1980s-1990s (and, as it can be argued, is still continuing to this day). I've already seen a small number of films that have made their way to the United States, as well as spent some of my own money on books to use in my own personal research (see my book list for a few). It's been a slow process, but I'm really starting to learn a lot about the movement, as well as about the history of Taiwan itself, which is something I haven't thought too much of until recently.
   The reason why I'm so interested in Taiwanese cinema as opposed to mainland China or Hong Kong is that I'm technically half Taiwanese. My dad was born in Taipei, and the majority of my family on his side still resides in Taiwan. My dad's never even been to the mainland, and despite considering himself Chinese, his real home was in Taiwan. Now, from what I've learned about Taiwanese identity and history, that's kind of a paradox, because the Chinese population living in Taiwan technically aren't real Taiwanese, at least not in the sense that everyone except Native Americans aren't real Americans. From what I've heard, my family actually came over from the mainland sometime around the Chinese Civil War, around the same time as the Kuomintang (KMT). If you're familiar with Taiwan history at all then you'll know that the KMT was highly oppressive with the Taiwanese people that had been living on the island for decades under the Japanese occupation, and they essentially treated the Taiwanese people like colonists and slaves rather than compatriots.
   And here's where my post connects with A City of Sadness. Hou's film is set during the transitional period between the end of the Japanese occupation and the KMT's takeover of Taiwan in 1949. The focus is on a local family, who experiences death, political oppression, and incredible loss during this time. It's pretty depressing despite the film beginning with a birth and ending with a wedding. There's an ambiguous feeling by the time the credits begin to roll - does the film end with a suggestion of hopefulness or hopelessness? It's hard to tell.

   The film really kind of tore me up inside, knowing what I know about both Taiwanese history as well as my family's own personal history. Can I say that I'm really part Taiwanese despite my family's Chinese heritage? Is there even a difference in contemporary times? Taiwan's current president seems to think so, which is why he's vying for independence from mainland China (something I won't go into). My identity is already divided in half, and now those halves are threatened to be divided into quarters because of these issues. I'm not even sure where to stand on certain points.
   Funny that as soon as I begin to feel comfortable with my identity everything goes to pieces because of a single film. I guess that's the power of film itself as a socio-political medium. It definitely has the power to make you think if you're willing to look at the larger social issues and history. Of course, I'm sure half the people in my class were just wanting the film to end because of its length (over three hours) and the obsessive use of long shots and long takes, but I'm still glad I managed to see it, and subtitled in English. It's not readily available over here like Hou Hsiao-Hsien's other films (Millenium Mambo, The Puppetmaster). I'm going to try and seek out a copy for myself.
   I've also been reinvigorated to go back and watch Edward Yang's Yi Yi, which has been on my shelf for awhile now, calling me to watch it again. In fact, perhaps I'll do that this weekend since I have off on Monday.

   One of the biggest worries I've been having this past year is what exactly I'm going to do with my film degree once I get out of college. Believe it or not, college hasn't exactly been what I expected it to be, and if anything I didn't get to accomplish what I originally set out to do - which was to earn degrees in Creative Writing and Critical Studies in Film & Digital Media, a more intensive program which would've allowed me to get teaching experience this upcoming spring. Well, I won't get to do that naturally. It just feels like these past four years haven't amounted to much other than about $10,000 worth of debt that I'm going to start freaking out about since the interest is going to start up after graduation.
   I mean, really... if you're not going into production, what does once do with a film degree? The reason why I wanted to go into Critical Studies was because I could have gone further into the academic side of film and maybe been better suited to move on to a graduate program somewhere like USC or NYU. I could've had more of a focus instead of taking classes that gloss over a variety of topics but never really goes in-depth; being half Chinese with my family based in Taiwan, I wanted to explore the Taiwanese New Cinema and how Taiwan's ever-changing identity has helped to shape their identity in contemporary cinema. My professors all seemed to think it was a good area for research since there hasn't been that much written about it in English, but ultimately I was turned down for the concentration because of my narrative evaluations (I haven't received a lot of good evals because up until now I barely talked in lectures and discussions). Bah.
   One of the jobs I've really wanted since venturing into the academics of film is working for The Criterion Collection. Granted, a lot of my classmates and friends feel like Criterion DVDs are overpriced and their choice in films is slightly elitist and prone to European and American art films, but I think what they're doing is a great step towards the mainstream acceptance of international cinema. Naturally, I do think they should start focusing more on films from East Asia, but I'm hoping in time they'll realize that as well. But yeah, I'd love to actually work with Criterion and help produce their collection.
   Kino International would be a similar choice.
   Uh, but how does one apply to places like those? It's not like they have an online application on their websites.

   I suppose I'll start at least learning something new this winter. One of my professors approached me this quarter asking if I wanted to help subtitle a pair of older Chinese films from before World War II, films that aren't available on DVD, nor available with English subtitles (obviously). So I'll get to mess around with some subtitling software as well as DVD authoring software since my professor would prefer a DVD with divided chapters as opposed to having a pair of VCDs, which we'll be transferring from. It sounds like a good project, and I'll get paid for it too, so that's always nice.
   When I get back to San Francisco next summer I really should also try to pick up Mandarin again. I realized only way too late that it'd be a great advantage that would've opened a ton of doors for me. Ah, well.