The Curse (ザ・カース, Kenichi Ugana, 2025)

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Could it be fair to say that sometimes we curse ourselves, or perhaps more accurately that the only true curse is morbid curiosity? Those at the centre of Kenichi Ugana’s J-horror inspired The Curse (ザ・カース) have the option to simply stay off social media, but they find themselves unable to do so. Be careful what you post about yourself online, the film seems to say, as if an Instagram profile were basically opening a portal to your soul through which any evil entity pass.

But at the same time, a priest cautions that one may do harm to others without even realising it and it transpires that even the most innocuous of posts can be enough to push someone over the edge. The versions of their lives that people post online are obviously idealised or perhaps aspirational, but they can still provoke a sense of jealousy or envy to the extent that saying “I am having a lovely day” can upset someone who is not and perhaps has not for a long time but continues to hate follow these kinds of accounts. This in itself is a kind of curse, the film argues, as a deepening sense of self-loathing is projected outward towards those apparently living better lives the unhappy obsessive feels they may not deserve.

Still, there is an extent to which the curse is also “real”. When Riko (Yukino Kaizu) spots a creepy photo posted by a friend, Shufen, which is accompanied by the caption “Drop dead already, all of you” and seems to contain the image of a malevolent entity, she is of course immediately concerned. Her anxiety is compounded by the fact that her friend is Taiwanese and posts in Mandarin, so she uses the auto translate feature but has no way of knowing if the translation is accurate. When Shufen fails to reply to messages, Riko decides to get over her sense of awkwardness and contact her ex in Taiwan, a mutual friend. Confused, Jiahao (Yan Yu Teng) tells her Shufen died six months previously in circumstances so strange and disturbing her family preferred to keep it quiet. “Curses are very real, in Taiwan at least,” he tells her. People die from them. 

Riko then faces another barrier in trying to navigate her away around the ritual beliefs of another culture. When her friend Airi began exhibiting strange symptoms after watching a video online, she took her to a doctor who was unable to help. After her Taiwanese friends recommend an exorcism, she begins to feel guilty. Perhaps if she’d contacted a priest instead of a doctor, she could have been more help to Airi. The Japanese-speaking priest in Taiwan isn’t necessarily that much help either, though. He demands payment up front, which reduces his credibility and opens the door to the suggestion that the rituals he provides are more placebo effect than anything else. Nevertheless, it seems he really does have the power to intervene with spirits, only this one is a little beyond his capabilities.  

There’s an essential irony in the fact that Riko is only able to detect the ghostly presence through its reflection in images while otherwise unable to see it lurking in the shadows or under her bed. This embodiment of resentment seems to affect her offline life too as the manager of the upscale hair salon where she works begins to act strangely towards her and a homeless man he warns her about arrives to advise she deal with her ghost problem before it gets out of hand. Ugana frequently cuts back to the ranks of disembodied mannequin heads that line the salon as a kind of foreshadowing lending the place an ominous quality and perhaps playing into the anxieties of the antagonist with its elitist vibes and unwelcoming atmosphere. Perhaps the real villains are unfair female beauty standards, ageism, and lookism, or equally perhaps we’re back at the figure of a witch who doesn’t want to grow old and is cursed with vanity, resentful of those who possess a beauty she believes herself to have lost. Turning unexpectedly bloody in final moments, the film suggests that this particular curse will never be lifted in part because it has become its own reward as this this particular malevolent entity dances cheerfully in her garden, secure in the knowledge that no one is watching.

The Curse is on UK, Ireland, Australia and New Zealand digital platforms 13 July

Trailer (English subtitles)

Fantasia International Film Festival Confirms Complete 2026 Programme

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The Fantasia International Film Festival returns for its 30th edition taking place once again in Montreal from July 16 to Aug. 2. As usual this year’s programme includes a host of new and classic features from East Asia:

China

Hong Kong

Indonesia

  • Levitating – Supernatural drama in which a young man dreams of becoming a shaman.
  • Sleep No More – Darky comic supernatural thriller from Edwin.

Japan

  • Screenshot
  • AnyMart – Bloody combini life satire starring Shota Sometani.
  • Beasts Clutching at Straws – Crime thriller directed by Hideo Jojo and adapted from the novel by Keisuke Sone previously adapted in Korea as Beasts Clawing at Straws.
  • Break Free – Zany comedy in which a yakuza’s tiktok dance goes viral.
  • Captured! – Quirky horror in which a young woman starts a horror blog only to find herself haunted for real.
  • Cherry and Virgin  – Animation exploring the relationship between a commercial illustrator and an erotic manga artist.
  • Cocoon – One Summer of Girlhood  – Animated adaptation of the manga by Machiko Kyo recounting the story of the Lily Corps during the Battle of Okinawa.
  • Gozu – Surreal gangster drama from Takashi Miike.
  • GROTESQQQUE – Three part anime anthology from Atsushi Nishigori. World Premiere.
  • The Mouths – Horror from Takashi Shimizu in which university friends investigate a haunted tree.
  • Nameless – A man who can kill with a seemingly invisible weapon goes on the rampage after being harangued by a religious woman in a cafe, leaving police and witnesses baffled in Hideo Jojo’s adaptation of the manga by actor and comedian Jiro Sato. Review.
  • Never After Dark – Horror from Dave Boyle following a spirit medium who guides wandering souls to the afterlife.
  • A New Dawn – Anime in which childhood friends reunite and two brothers face the closure of their family fireworks factory.
  • The Origin of Ultraman – Documentary exploring the origins of the classic tokusatsu series overseen by Hirokazu Koreeda.
  • Redline – Takeshi Koike’s classic 2009 racing-themed anime.
  • The Samurai and the Prisoner – Mystery period drama from Kiyoshi Kurosawa.
  • Sekiro: No Defeat – Anime set in the Sengoku era in which a ninja must rescue a kidnapped child.
  • The Specials – Comedy from Eiji Uchida in which yakuza must post as a dance troupe to assassinate a rival.
  • Suzuki=Bakudan – Cat and mouse game between a mass bomber and a brainy policeman. Review.
  • TOKYO BURST: Crime City – Japanese spin-off of Ma Dong-seok’s Roundup series directed by Eiji Uchida.
  • Village of Eight Gravestones – Adaptation of the classic novel by Seishi Yokomizo directed by Takashi Shimizu.
  • When You Open the Door – Horror starring Serena Motola as a young woman drawn to a woodland shrine.
  • Wind Breaker – High school fighting drama from Kentaro Hagiwara.
  • You Are the Film – Directorial debut from screenwriter Makoto Ueda in which a screenwriter and musician somehow end up watching each other’s experience on the big screen.

Philippines

  • Hayop Ka! – Steamy grown-up animation following the romantic adventures of a shopworker.
  • Zsazsa Zaturnnah – LGBTQ+ themed superhero animation.

South Korea

  • Colony – Latest from Yeon Sang-ho in which a professor is trapped in a building with a mysterious virus.
  • The Eyes – Korean take on Julia’s Eyes.
  • The Journey to Gyeong-Ju – A mother sets out to get revenge against the man who killed her youngest child.
  • The Mutation – A man discriminated against because of his skin colour and a gay woman whose partner took her own life after being forced into a heterosexual marriage embark on a road trip.
  • Niko – A broke screenwriter suddenly disappears in Seoul.
  • The Seoul Guardians – Documentary focusing on Yoon Suk-yeol’s declaration of martial law.
  • Tristes Tropiques – Children trained to be assassins turn against each other in this action thriller from Park Hoon-jung.

Taiwan

Thailand

  • God Skin – A desperate young man agrees to fight in a tournament in which rich people can send booster shots to their favourite players through VR tattooes.

Vietnam

The Fantasia International Film Festival runs in Montreal, Canada, July 16 to Aug 2. Full details for all the films along with scheduling and ticketing information are available via the official website, and you can also keep up with all the latest news via the festival’s Facebook page, Bluesky, Instagram, and Vimeo channels.

Numb (しびれ, Takuya Uchiyama, 2025)

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At 11-years old, Daichi (Anji Kato / Tsukasa Enomoto / Takumi Kitamura as a child, teen, and adult respectively) is mostly living alone as his bar hostess mother is absent for days at a time leaving him with only a small amount of money to feed himself until the next time she returns. Rendered mute by the childhood trauma of his father’s domestic violence, he lives an almost entirely isolated experience, shying away from contact with adults and no longer attending school.  Given his circumstances, he has become used to shoplifting and pilfering from neighbours, but even this is perhaps partly born of his desire to avoid potentially dangerous interactions.

Unlike similar Japanese dramas, Takuya Uchiyama’s semi-autobiographical film Numb (しびれ, Shibire) is less interested in the ways that a boy like Daichi has been failed by society than his subjective experience. It is, however, notable how easy it seems to have been for him to fall through the cracks. No one ever seems to get in contact to ask why he hasn’t been in school nor does anyone appear to investigate his living standards. The landlord of his building takes advantage of the situation to extract sexual favours from his mother, Aki (Rie Miyazawa), who grants them in order to ensure they can stay in their home, a prefab shed on the roof where the water is often cut off because she hasn’t paid the bill. Though just a child, Daichi drags a canister that would normally hold kerosene down to the river, fills it, then has to carry it home and up the stairs to the roof all alone. He washes his mother’s clothes and dries them in the stairwell. Despite having no money, he spends his last coins on beer and cigarettes from a vending machine for her.

Yet at the same time, his mother’s circumstances are also caused by her trauma of suffering domestic abuse at the hands of his father (Masatoshi Nagase) who seems to have at point abandoned them. Working as a bar hostess necessarily means she is often absent at night, though her increasing dependency on drugs and alcohol along with their precarious living situation forces her into acts of casual sex work. To that extent, the course of her life is directly contrasted with that of her older sister with whom the pair later move in. Tomoko has become a Jehovah’s Witness and religious obsessive who does not exactly treat the pair with kindness or compassion. A line of red tape divides the apartment with Aki and Daichi occupying the living area but forbidden from crossing the threshold into Tomoko’s religious sanctuary. She appears judgemental of her sister and is at least party to her signing a Do Not Resuscitate order, though she insists that has nothing to do with her religious beliefs and was entirely Aki’s decision. Nevertheless, she coldly tells Daichi to get out of town once his mother dies and implies she finds his existence an embarrassment.

Denied any kind of emotional connection with parental figures, Daichi’s only source of positive input comes from a Russian labourer who discourages him from hanging around near the construction site which he says is dangerous due to the high levels of Russian drug users. Ivan gives him fatherly advice and comfort despite their apparently only meeting twice, but at the same time it’s clear that by virtue of his presence in Japan he has at least physically been absent from the life of his son back in Russia. Nevertheless, he presents an image of positive paternity to counter that from each of the men Aki becomes involved with who are violent towards her and tell Daichi that they’ve always hated his eyes, presumably because they are filled with contempt and remind them of what utter failures they have become. 

Forced into an early adulthood, the older Daichi makes ends meet covertly dealing drugs as a barman and appears to be trapped in a state of inertia by unresolved childhood trauma. A violent confrontation with his father solves nothing, though a kind of release arrives in finally letting go of his mother and taking her advice to move on. Shot on 16mm, the film captures the bleakness and isolation of Daichi’s life in snowy Niigata where it always seems to be Christmas for everyone but him as he slowly embarks upon a path towards recovering his voice.

Numb screens as part of this year’s JAPAN CUTS.

Female Prisoner #701: Scorpion (Intro)

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Text of an intro given at the Prince Charles Cinema, 5th October 2023

There can be few faces in Japanese pop culture as iconic as that of Meiko Kaji. Contemporary Western audiences may have been first introduced to her indirectly through her undeniable influence on Quentin Tarantino’s Kill Bill which not only featured the song, performed by Kaji herself, which appears the beginning and end of each instalment in the Female Prisoner #701 Scorpion series that launched her into stardom but also drew inspiration in particular from her role as another vengeful heroine, Lady Snowblood. 

Kaji had begun her career at Nikkatsu under her birth name of Masako Ota where she generally played a supporting roles in the studio’s signature output of rebellious youth films. By the early 1970s, however, the studio system that had dominated the Japanese cinema industry was in terminal decline with attendance figures falling drastically in the face of competition from television. In response, Nikkatsu shifted its approach wholesale into what it termed “Roman Porno”, essentially softcore sex films that were nevertheless screened in ordinary cinemas and were intended for a mainstream audience as opposed to “pink film” which was a more rigorously defined genre screened in dedicated venues and aimed quite squarely at male viewers.

Kaji was one of many actresses who didn’t fancy joining the Roman Porno revolution and so jumped ship, firstly for television but then accepting an offer to join rival studio Toei which then had a giant hole to fill as its major star, Junko Fuji who had led the Red Peony Gambler series and more or less bankrolled the studio, had retired from acting to marry a kabuki performer, though she would later resume her career under the name Sumiko some years later. Kaji was considered a potential replacement but Toei really had its thinking back to front. The studio’s stock-in-trade at that time had been the ninkyo eiga, tales of gangster chivalry usually set before the war, but audiences had already become tired of the genre and were looking for something more contemporary which was certainly something Kaji could provide if she were allowed to create her own space rather than attempt to fill that left by Junko Fuji. 

Unlike rival studios such as Nikkatsu, Toei had a reputation for churning out very cheap period and contemporary action dramas that were largely aimed at a younger male audience and were, in that sense, already heading towards the same territory as Nikkatsu’s Roman Porno in their salacious taste for sex and violence. Now, we have to be a bit careful in using the term “pink film” which is itself something clearly defined by an adherence to a certain set of rules and was generally independently produced not put out by a studio, but we also have to acknowledge that the retrospective term “pinky violence” which was coined later rather than something actively used by Toei’s marketing department takes its from name the erotic associations of pink cinema coupled with the violence inherent in Toei’s exploitation films. 

Just as Nikkatsu had shifted into Roman Porno, so Toei pushed its line of female-led revenge and girl gang movies largely built around its roster of stars which aside from Kaji included Reiko Ike and Miki Sugimoto who were often played off against each other as studio rivals at times even appearing in the same film bringing that offscreen baggage with them as in the first instalment of the Terrifying Girls’ High School series or the genre highlight Criminal Woman: Killing Melody. Kaji was however largely uninterested in this kind of cinema and reluctant to take on the role of Female Prisoner #701 Nami Matsushima especially after clashing with neophyte director Shunya Ito who made no secret of his lack of confidence in her ability to play it while she objected to his demands for nudity which was after all what she’d left Nikkatsu to avoid.

Nevertheless, the pair later developed a fruitful working relationship bonding over their shared desire to move beyond the confines of the studio’s exploitation cinema into something with more artistic weight. More than any other of the films later tagged with the Pinky Violence label, the Scorpion series undermines the problematic “male gaze” inherent in the genre and found a strong female following who saw in Matsu an embodiment of their own silent rage towards a patriarchal society.  

Even so, as much as the Pinky Violence films can be seen as empowering they were also largely made for male titillation and structured in ways men can enjoy the transgressive qualities of female rebellion and aggression. Many of them are rape revenge dramas which necessarily feature scenes of sexualised violence that are sometimes presented in salacious rather than harrowing terms if otherwise sympathising with the heroine’s desire for revenge which is generally successful though it may incur further cost or moral ruin. The contradiction reaches its height in Norifumi Suzuki’s visually stunning, psychedelic foray into nunspolitation School of the Holy Beast which sees a liberated young woman enter a convent to gain revenge for the death of her mother who was killed by repressed nuns during a sexualised punishment session. The confines of the convent are styled like a prison and the film plays out like a women in prison film yet just as in the Female Prisoner #701 Scorpion series, it’s only really a metaphor for the patriarchal superstructure under which all women are imprisoned. 

One of the key directors of the genre, Norifumi Suzuki’s films are often highly stylised though in general like most of Toei’s output at the time most pinky violence movies often aim for a kind of heightened realism If one tempered by the hallmarks of 70s exploitation. By those standards, the film you’re about to see tonight is highly unusual in its bold visual style which incorporates elements of surrealism along with composition influenced by that of manga and the gothic overtones of the classic horror movie. By the end of the original Scorpion series, Matsu has taken on a mythical, supernatural quality of her own as an embodiment of rage and vengeance even at times rising from the water like the iconic long-haired ghosts most familiar to contemporary audiences from films like The Ring. Kaji would eventually move on from the series, but Toei could not, attempting to reboot it on more than one occasion though without the original incarnation’s striking visuals nor the intensity of Kaji’s unearthly glare. More than fifty years on from its original release Female Prisoner #701: Scorpion continues to resonate in an age where not nearly enough has changed.

Bird of Paradise (媽樣年華, Wu Chui-yi, 2026)

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Feeling trapped in her marriage to a dull and patriarchal husband, a middle-aged woman finds a new lease on life after taking up pole dancing in Wu Chui-yi’s lighthearted drama Bird of Paradise (媽樣年華). Having lived only for her husband and son, Yeun begins to crave self-fulfilment, yet knows that her new hobby won’t go down too well with her family and is forced to keep it a secret even as her newfound confidence begins to grow.

After realising she’s actually taking the same class as her teenage son’s crush Shan, Yuen ends up using a different name at the studio further compounding the fracturing of her identity and echoing her assertion that pole dancing allowed to see another version of herself that was beautiful, amazing, and free. Ironically, Shan seems to have a lot of the confidence that Yuen has lost and perhaps bears out the advice she receives from a supportive shop assistant that the projection of beauty is largely a matter of conviction. Believe yourself to be beautiful, and others will too. 

Her husband Ming-lam, however, who happens to be Shan’s high school teacher, constantly tries to suppress the new version of herself that she’s becoming. He complains that she’s getting “further and further out of line” by coming home later in the evenings, dismissively telling her that if she wants to gossip, play mahjong, or talk K-dramas with her friends she can do that in the afternoons. Yuen’s making the “wrong” breakfast and going out of sync with the meal calendar seems to signal the beginning of her rebellion as she begins to look for new sources of fulfilment when Ming-lam rejects unscheduled intimacy and otherwise treats her as little more than a glorified housekeeper. Despite criticising her for neglecting her household duties, he later suggests her life is easy with only the need to put a cloth round every now and then as he otherwise provides her with a materially comfortable life while entirely rejecting her emotional needs.

At the school too, Ming-lam is a strict disciplinarian who runs the morning outfit patrol and tells the children off for minor uniform infractions while making his son pretend they aren’t related. During their careers survey, Shan quips that her plan is to marry a wealthy man, and Ming-lam criticises her for a lack of ambition in wanting such an “empty and meaningless” life despite being exactly the one to which he’s condemned his wife not entirely to her will. Shan later turns this criticism back on him, telling Yuen that his need for control over his students is probably a means of compensating for a dull life that he internally resents. 

Yet Ming-lam is really just a depressing embodiment of an outdated idea of masculinity and an obsession with middle-class properness and respectability. He tells Yuen he just wants her to be a “normal wife”, which is to say subservient to him and confined within the domestic space. He genuinely thinks he’s helping his pupils by keeping on the straight and narrow without considering that he’s stifling their the creativity and individuality. When Shan practices her pole dance at school, he sees it only and lewd and bans it in part for “giving the boys dirty thoughts.” He can’t see that Shan dances for herself and resents Yuen’s growing confidence along with her desire for an identity outside of wife and mother. 

Yuen’s free-spirited mother Feng Mei too decides to look for fulfilment alone rather than relying on a man to accompany her to fulfil her late husband’s wish to take her up in a hot air balloon. Though Ming-lam’s sudden change of heart may seems improbable, Yuen’s transformation also reminds him of the romantic young man he once was and that his wife’s happiness is the most important thing. It is not for him to decide what sort of happiness she might want, but only to support her in chasing it. Yuen’s newfound self-confidence begins to improve the world around her, making her home a brighter, airier space rather than one ruled by oppressive routine and encouraging others to be more of themselves too rather than being confined by social expectation or the desires of others.

Bird of Paradise screens as part of this year’s New York Asian Film Festival.

Trailer (Traditional Chinese / English subtitles)

Ip Man: Kung Fu Legend (宗师叶问2, Li Liming, 2026)

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Ip Man returns once again to fight injustice in colonial Hong Kong as a corrupt fixer tries to intimidate the local Martial Arts Society out of its headquarters in order to open a Western-style boxing gym. Ip Man: Kung Fu Legend (宗师叶问2, zōngshī Yè Wèn) is technically a sequel to 2019’s Ip Man: Kung Fu Master, though only in that it is directed by Li Liming and stars Dennis To Yu-Hang in the title role.

This outing for the folklore hero has a little more story to it than most as Ip Man returns to Hong Kong from Foshan to open a martial arts school to find himself a little less than welcome given that interest is martial arts is declining, schools have closed, and the last thing many of those remaining want is more competition. In order to be accepted by the local Martial Arts Society, Ip Man has to pass three trials, though it’s clear the current head, Hong, has begun to veer from the path of righteousness as he deliberately makes things difficult for Ip Man and even tries to cheat before the trial is interrupted by the arrival of the real villain, Pike, a corrupt British businessman valued by the colonial authorities who are dependent on his money to fund their election campaigns. 

Thus the enemies Ip Man is fighting are the forces of imperialism and capitalism as represented by Pike. Realising that they share a common enemy, Hong eventually teams up with Ip Man to defend the dock workers led by Ip Man’s friend Jinsong whose livelihoods are under threat if Pike manages to take over the port. Martial artists and workers are the foundation of the Chinese people, Hong intones while pledging to reject foreign influence in fear that allowing the British in will only lead to a total takeover. His underling, Yihu, meanwhile feels differently and tries to persuade Hong to work with the British believing that he would still be able to maintain management of the Zhonghua building. The fact is that the society is broke and can no longer support its members. Yihu’s mother is seriously ill and needs expensive medical treatment that the society can no longer fund while he also feels resentful and under valued by Hong after being passed over for promotions and generally ignored.

Yihu’s resentment and sense of inferiority make him the perfect target for seduction by Pike after which he undergoes a total personality transformation in becoming a rather flamboyant gangster with a fashionable haircut and sunglasses which generally seem to be used as a symbol of evil within the film. A crazed henchman sent after Ip Man who uses meat hooks as weapons also wears distinctive sunglasses and is driven by greed rather than righteousness. He tells Pike that his initial investment only covers knocking off Ip Man, which he has so far failed to do, and that taking out Yihu once he’s served his purpose is going to cost extra. 

Nevertheless Pike seems to have half the police station under his thumb though we only ever see Chinese officers. Though the first is pragmatic, he also tries to mitigate Pike’s influence while female officer Mei attempts to directly oppose it even while told that Pike is effectively above the law. She is also battling entrenched sexism as her superior advises her going against Pike might be doubly dangerous as there are already those who do not like the idea of women serving in the police force and may use her obstinacy as a reason why they shouldn’t. The martial arts world, by contrast, is depicted as much more egalitarian with the first of the masters Ip Man is asked to fight a woman skilled in unarmed combat. Likewise, when Ip Man eventually opens his school, two little girls excitedly ask to join so that they too can protect their community with their fists if necessary. 

IP Man subversively suggests that one might have to use their fists for justice. But at the same time, there is an awkwardness involved in that Mei and the police force that has resisted corruption become justice’s arbiters at the same time as she commits what might actually be an extrajudicial execution even if in self-defence. Nevertheless, the encroaching forces of capitalist imperialism have been beaten back with Ip Man installed as the leader of the Martial Arts Society. Though the film’s most impressive action scene may be its first as Ip Man faces off against a female master while trying to keep a candle alight, its does its best to live up to the expectations of its name while paying homage to classic fights from the franchise’s history.

Ip Man: Kung Fu Legend is released on Digital, 4K Ultra HD, Blu-ray & DVD July 14 courtesy of Well Go USA.

Trailer (English subtitles)

Dear You (给阿嬷的情书, Lan Hongchun, 2026)

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Flat broke and under pressure from a loan shark, Hiou-u (Zheng Runqi) decides there’s only one thing to do. Track down his no-good grandpa who apparently abandoned the family and became rich in Thailand to demand his share of the inheritance. Of course, by the end of the film, he’ll have realised the error of his ways and grown up a little, much like the protagonist of Thai megahit How To Make Millions Before Grandma Dies, by which Lan Hongchun’s tear-jerking melodrama Dear You (给阿嬷的情书, Gěi Āmà de qíngshū) is clearly inspired. It even features Usha Seamkhum in a small role as the older Lamgi at the film’s conclusion. 

Shot almost entirely in Teochew, the film is, in other ways, a tale of distance and diaspora which in some ways suggests that a Chinese citizen never really leaves “China” but continues to exist within it even while abroad. Though most of the film takes place in Thailand, it is largely unconcerned with the political and social situation of the nation in the mid-1950s or with the wider geopolitical realities of the era. Remaining largely within the Teochew community, it does not really explore the complicated position of the Chinese community in Thai society either, preferring to focus on their poverty and rootless as the source of their marginalisation. After eloping with a young woman from a wealthy family, Den Bhagseng (Wang Yantong) is forced to flee leaving his three children behind to avoid being drafted into the KMT during the Chinese Civil War. After arriving in Thailand he is unable to return home firstly because of the difficulty of doing so once the Communist regime gained power, though the film also skirts around this, and secondly because he sends almost of all the money back to his wife Sogriu (Wu Shaoqing) meaning he never manages to save enough for his return passage.

The film largely revolves around the qiaopi remittances, letters sent home to family declaring that the sender was safe and often including money. Aside from the sentimental dimension, these letters also reinforce the diaspora community’s ties to the Mainland and the inclusion of several real letters at the film’s conclusion seems intended to act as a mild suggestion that perhaps those living abroad could also send more of their money home, while the film’s themes of yearning and homesickness also seem primed to encourage those living away to return or at least put in a call to their loved ones before it’s too late.

But on the other hand, the fact that the letters were never written by Bhagseng, as he was largely illiterate, but firstly by a series of scribes and then by a heartbroken Lamgi who pens the heart wrenchingly romantic verses that bring so much comfort to Sogriu adds a note of poignancy while perhaps undercutting their sincerity. That these are, in effect, a series of love letters exchanged between two women, though mediated through the absent figure of a man, leads the film an unexpectedly queer undertone complimenting the accompanying messages of female solidarity. Though Sogriu originally harbours resentment towards Lamgi mistakenly believing her to have been Bhagseng’s mistress, she later gains respect for realising not only all that she did for them but they way in which she continued to honour Bhagseng’s memory.

Once of the reasons that the family had believed Bangseng had become rich was that there were several schools with his name on them, leading them to conclude he had sponsored them in some way. This turns out not to be case, but was rather a kind of tribute to his role within the local community having convinced Lamgi to allow a Chinese school to operate within her inn during a time in which the language was actively suppressed. Bangseng had shouted at her, pointing out that these children will be condemned to a life of poverty and exploitation if they, like him, cannot read and write. He also argues that without knowing how to read, write, and speak Chinese, they will lose their cultural roots and connection with the Mainland. This seems to already be true of Lamgi who did not herself know how to read Chinese and felt disconnected from Chinese culture having grown up in Thailand. After learning with the children at the inn, the necessity of writing the letters also encourages Lamgi to become fully literate. The ability to read and write not only allows her to earn an income as a single woman by running her own business and later becoming a teacher, but also reinforces her Chinese roots and sense of cultural identity. 

While it therefore presents a bittersweet tale of a love lost and then regained when the truth is revealed, the film also subtly issues a message to the diaspora community about the importance of their links to the greater Chinese community and responsibility towards the Mainland. Repeated references are made to the need to support each other in a foreign land with the Teochew community determined to protect each other against an often hostile environment in which they face exploitation and discrimination, while Lamgi’s sense of responsibility toward Sogriu could also be seen the same way as she willingly takes on the need to provide for Bangsen’s family despite her unrequited feelings for him. Nevertheless, what the film offers most is a sense of catharsis in its tear-jerking tale of young lovers separated by forces outside their control and symbolically reunited through the emotional truths contained within the letters.

Trailer (English / Simplified Chinese subtitles)

Burn (炎上, Makoto Nagahisa, 2026)

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“You may not be okay, but neither is anyone else,” a well-meaning young woman advises neatly encapsulating the world of the Toyoko kids in Makoto Nagahisa’s second feature, Burn (炎上, Enjo). A little less anarchic than his debut We Are Little Zombies, the film is one of several exploring the fate of these displaced teens the media has often liked to demonise as means of deflecting the fact that society has largely failed them and the adults who should be helping often only make things worse.

This contrast is clear in the opening scenes in which Jurie’s (Nana Mori) Christian parents sing a hymn about the world being full of light, but Jurie’s father (Kanji Furutachi) is a crazed authoritarian who beats her and her sister with a belt while insisting that Jurie’s persistent stammer is a reflection of her “tainted soul”. Ironically, asking her sister if she believes in God, Jurie starts to pray for her father’s death. “If God exists, He took his fucking time,” she quips when her father finally drops dead a few years later. But the abuse doesn’t end. Her mother takes her father’s place and begins to beat them just as she was beaten. 

Shinjuku, is one sense, a place full of light given its brightness and shining signs, but in the real world you can’t have light without shadow. After running away, Jurie is taken in by a community of similarly displaced teens led by an adult Fagin-like character known as Kami (Wataru Ichinose), which is ironically the same as the word for “God”. He describes himself as a guardian angel who whose job it is to make everyone feel safe, yet there’s something disingenuous about his warm-hearted claims that this is a place that accepts everyone and that no matter what society may choose to reject, he is glad that they were born. His golden fangs seem to hint at something cruel and greedy echoed in his reluctance to left Jurie leave, insisting that she won’t make it in the real world despite having told her she needs to become independent.

Mitsuba (Aoi Yamada), who has a disability stemming from a traumatic childhood incident, similarly finds her attempt to find escape through a relationship with a host foundering. Ironically named “Hikari” which means light, he justifies himself to her in insisting that he’s a victim too having been abused by his mother as a child, though in the end Mitsuba’s need to be loved can only be satisfied transactionally as she deludes herself into thinking her relationship with Hikari is “real” even as he continues to exploit her. To earn the money pay him, she ironically takes to sex work and encourages Jurie to join her in an effort to earn a million yen and then go back to save her sister. One of their clients presents them with a strange-looking dildo that sort of resembles a wand used by magical girls in anime which they wave as though transforming, but later describe themselves as performing an exorcism after meeting clients.

The men that buy their services are just another symptom of an exploitative society. When Jurie almost overdoses and is taken to hospital, the police don’t send her back to her family but do place her in a childcare facility where she feels imprisoned. The implication is that society would rather hide these children away rather than attempt to help them. Jurie longs for the freedom of the city and escapes to return, but in the end discovers only darkness. The film shares its Japanese title with Kon Ichikawa’s adaptation of Mishima’s The Temple of the Golden Pavilion, Conflagration, which is also about a young man who decided to burn it all down in protest against a profane world, though Jurie seeks escape from the collective punishment of the contemporary society along with the traumatic legacy of her father’s abuse. Nagahisa mixes iPhone social media footage capturing the kids’ world from their perspective with dreamlike imagery and a video game aesthetic as Jurie looks for a way out of the labyrinth of her trauma while setting the world ablaze in her mind. What she discovers in the ashes, however, maybe a renewed hope for the future and the possibility of a different kind of salvation.

Burn screens as part of this year’s JAPAN CUTS.

Trailer (Engliish subtitles)

Unidentified Murder (UFO離奇命案, Kwok Ka-Hei & Jack Lee Chun-Kit, 2025)

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The line between a prank and a scam maybe be necessarily thin in Kwok Ka-Hei and Jack Lee Chun-Kit farcical comedy Unidentified Murder (UFO離奇命案) in which nothing is quite as it first seems. Unfolding with an almost Rashomon-like structure, the film slowly peels back the layers of reality to reveal that pretty much everyone is playing a trick on someone, sometimes rooted in a childish sense of fun, but equally a desire for attention and the money that can be generated from it in today’s attention-obsessed society.

Twenty-five years ago, Kit (Ronald Lam Tsz-Kit) and Mark (Ling Man-lung) went up the mountain with their friend Ho but returned alone. Ho’s disappearance has apparently become a legendary local mystery with the boys claiming that Ho was abducted by aliens, though some seem to believe that their story is either a trauma-born fiction or a deliberate attempt to disguise their role in whatever may have happened to their friend. In any case, the film opens with an attempt by online content creator Man (Renci Yeung) of the “Prank My Boyfriend” video channel to play a trick on her boyfriend Mark by getting an actor, Kim (Peter Chan Charm-Man), to be the retuned Ho abruptly released by the aliens after 25 years. To begin with, this doesn’t seem like a very funny prank and could be crushingly insensitive. One might assume the now middle-aged men are carrying a degree of trauma about the failure to protect their friend, or else if they really were responsible for his disappearance in someway, it could turn out of be a dangerous situation for everyone. 

Nevertheless, Mark doesn’t seem to be particularly phased by Man’s prank and, on fact, sets out of prank her back by getting Kim onside to pretend that he and Kit kill him while planning to move Ho’s body due to the increased interest generated by the incident’s 25th birthday. This doesn’t seem like a very funny prank either, and it’s difficult to deny that this ultimately farcical situation began with a series of very bad decisions especially as this particular stunt is intended to work up to a marriage proposal. Unfortunately, however, nothing goes to plan and when it looks like Kim might be dead for real, the gang get a mysterious text trying to blackmail them threatening to release Man’s video of them murdering Kim online.

Or course, there’s a possibility that this is another prank too, or, to be frank, more of a scam. In this world, nothing really is certain and no one is really who they seem to be. A good friend might be playing a trick on you that could unwittingly be hurtful or insensitive though they may not mean it, while likewise they may be trying to con you out of a bit money to fight their own desperate circumstances. There’s a kind of childishness that underplays most of the trickery like a lie told by a child to get out of trouble that they then have to commit to for the rest of their lives. In this way a trick can become a shared secret, like an alternate reality that binds people together in ways few other things can. Others my be wilfully deceived by watching things like the Stardust Memories channel that purports to show evidence of aliens but may not be completely on the level. To that extent, at least Man’s channel is honest about its intentions even if it’s not clear to what extent Mark is already in on the joke.

Even if you regard it as harmless fun, these pranks too could wind up having devastating consequences and escalating to levels of death and violence all based on a series of misunderstandings. So confusing do things become while out in the mountain forest that Man even tries to grab the gun from a policeman and points it at her friends certain that they’re pranking her only to be shocked when the gun later goes off. But what could have unraveled a long-time mystery and exposed things best left buried or resulted in deadly consequences instead becomes another bonding exercise in which a group of people generate an unexpected friendship though all being in on the joke, each letting the incident end with good humour and no harm done. Filled with farcical comedy and an ironic cynicism the film seems to say that in this world where everything is grift being in on joke might be the only thing that makes life worth living.

Unidentified Murder screens as part of this year’s New York Asian Film Festival.

Trailer (English subtitles)

Magical Secret Tour (マジカル・シークレット・ツアー, Chihiro Amano, 2026)

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When her husband falls into a coma and she discovers he’s left them in huge amounts of debt due to an undisclosed gambling problem, an ordinary housewife finds herself at the mercy of an already strained society in which it seems everyone is struggling to the extent that they have no capacity to listen to other people’s troubles. Inspired by a real-life case in which a group of women was arrested for smuggling gold into the country in 2017, Chihiro Amano’s lighthearted crime drama Magical Secret Tour (マジカル・シークレット・ツアー) is a condemnation both of a society ruled by money and the various ways that women are still expected to clear up the messes of irresponsible men.

Wakako (Kasumi Arimura) is quickly made to feel guilty for not having noticed anything wrong with her husband or their family finances while also expected to shoulder the burden of the repayment plan to his former employer to cover the money he embezzled on top of his hospital fees which must now be paid in full because he was unemployed and had no insurance. When she tries to turn for her own family for her help, her mother is not happy to see her and seems put out that she’s turned up unexpectedly. It seems their family garage business is in trouble while they are already under strain due to needing to pay for their bedridden grandfather’s medical treatment. Her mother leaves abruptly before Wakako has the chance to explain the situation denying her the possibility of both financial assistance and emotional support. 

Apparently ineligible for any kind of government assistance, Wakako’s attempts at job-hunting fail because she is a mother of two with one only an infant and has also been out of the workforce for too long for any career experience to count. Even when her husband does eventually make a partial recovery, he blasts her for neglecting her responsibilities and overburdening his mother by asking for help with childcare. Despite having let her down so badly, he insists he’ll get a job once he’s better and discourages her from continuing to work even though she tells him that she enjoys it and finds it fulfilling. To that extent, her experiences have shown her that she did not really need to be dependent on a man for money as society somewhat encouraged her to be and could also look for fulfilment outside the home as an independent woman. 

Nevertheless, the only work she can find means turning to criminality, first by agreeing to a loan shark’s dodgy gold-smuggling scheme by taking the kids to Singapore for a few days and then returning laden down by gold bars they smuggle through customs to avoid importation taxes. While there she meets two other women in similar situations. Kiyoe (Haru Kuroki) is a scientific researcher in her early 40s who faces persistent sexism at work where her boss steals credit for her discoveries and faces no consequences for fiddling his expenses. Unable to find a new position thanks to a poor publication history, she wants the money to provide for her future. Mayu (Sara Minami), meanwhile, is trying to escape her toxic mother while pregnant herself and working as a bar hostess. 

The women justify themselves that what they’re doing is basically a victimless crime and just really a bit sneaky rather than morally wrong even if aware it’s illegal. A disclaimer at the end of the film implies the law has been tightened since 2017, but the stakes are also fairly low as it seems they’d mostly likely just be asked to pay the tax if they got caught, so trying to smuggle it seems like a no-brainer to them. Even so, the film skirts around Wakako’s involvement with the criminal gang from whom one would expect some sort of payback after she runs off with some of their gold after her own attempt to run a similar business inevitably runs into trouble. Instead it focuses on her sense of isolation in which the mother can end up being pushed out of both families, disregarded and taken for granted while expected to pick up her husband’s slack even if he hasn’t kept his part of the bargain by providing financial stability while otherwise absent from the domestic space. The only way to make a man play his part in child-rearing might ironically be divorce, though it seems likely it might just be him overburdening his mother this time. In any case, Wakako’s magical secret tour does seem to have led her to a more fulfilling place even it may in other ways be bittersweet. 

Magical Secret Tour screens as part of this year’s New York Asian Film Festival.

Trailer (English subtitles)