Tag: 2020s

Flames of a Flower (火の華, Oudai Kojima, 2024)

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A former soldier finds it difficult to adjust to civilian life after becoming involved in a fire fight in which a close friend died while on a peace-keeping mission in South Sudan in Oudai Kojima’s politically-inflected drama, Flames of a Flower (火の華, Hi no Hana). The film takes its title from the literal meaning of the Japanese word for fireworks, but its hero is also in some senses closely aligned with a flower, both as a kind of sacrificial object burned after outliving its usefulness, and in also slowly growing in the nurturing environment of a family-run fireworks factory until finally coming into bloom.

Shimada’s (Ikken Yamamoto) growth is only, however, one side of the story as the film draws inspiration from a real-life incident of a Japanese soldier dying in a combat situation in Sudan which was covered up by the authorities as, under the pacifist constitution, Self Defence Force troops are not supposed to be deployed in combat areas while on peace-keeping missions. While serving in South Sudan, Shimada’s troop is ambushed and he is forced to shoot a child soldier when his comrade and close friend is killed after having put his gun down in an attempt to defuse the situation. While he and fellow soldier Tanaka (Ippei Tanaka) attempt to get Furukawa to a hospital, Captain Ito (Yohei Matsukado) is left behind and thereafter presumed to have been killed. On his return, Shimada is forced to sign confidentiality documents that prevent him from talking about what really happened on the grounds of national security, while the authorities report that Furukawa and Ito died as a result of a traffic accident.

It’s this inability to speak the truth that informs Shimada’s trauma as much as it is the physical stressors of the battlefield or his guilt over having to kill the child soldier. Two years after the incident, he’s working as a welder in a small factory but experiences a flashback which causes him to assault a colleague. Though his boss is sympathetic, he has no other option than to let Shimada go, but introduces him to a friend, Fujii (Masato Ibu), who runs a fireworks factory and seems to have a track record with rehabilitating those with difficult backgrounds. Working in a fireworks factory might not seem the best option given Shimada’s condition, but at the same time it gives him the opportunity to do something more constructive with the same material that caused so much destruction while he was a soldier. The film plays on this dichotomy, Shimada later visiting Sudan again to teach the children about fireworks as a means of explaining to them that they have a choice between using gunpowder for fear and killing or making something beautiful, but at the same time it ignores the third option which is obviously just not to have anything to do with gunpowder in the first place. 

Showing the children the fireworks plays into the idea that children are cruelly robbed of their dreams by egotistical adults, hinting both at the children who are forced to become soldiers, and Fujii’s own regret that he would not let his daughter Akiko (Yurina Yanagi) become a fireworks technician. She has since become a florist working with a literal kind of flowers and also helping Shimada with his recovery. His former comrades, however, have largely become consumed with anger and rage against the government for its lack of transparency. Ito, having survived, has formed a militia after meeting a former member of the Japanese Red Army and is planning some kind of revolutionary action to change the society.

Exactly how they mean to change it isn’t altogether clear aside from a clear desire for transparency and also an end to Japan’s dependence on the US for defence which they argue drags them into situations they don’t belong in because of American foreign policy they might not necessarily agree with. They don’t quite state if that means having a standing army that could go to war if necessary, or if they still believe in pacfism but want the Americans out. In any case, they plan to expose the fact that the government prioritises its diplomatic arrangements over the lives of ordinary citizens while keeping from them that this puts Japanese troops in danger overseas. 

A subsequent plot by a government official working with a Chinese gangster (Kim Chang-bak) who Shimada meets after ironically becoming involved with trading illegal weapons, further muddies the waters, though the film is at its best in exploring the ways in which Shimada is able to come to accommodation with himself while being supported by those at the fireworks factory who become a kind of surrogate family. This sense of community is, the film suggests, what prevents him from jumping off the deep end like his former comrades who have become dangerously fixated on revenge. Though at times its politics may seem muddled or obscure, the film is at least at pains to stress that war and violence are choices that are often made by those who won’t have to suffer the consequences, when it is much easier to channel those same resources into something beautiful that can bring hope and enrich lives rather than destroying them.

Flames of a Flower screened as part of this year’s Camera Japan.

Trailer (no subtitles)

Ranshima Bound (蘭島行, Yoshitaka Kamada, 2025)

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A middle-aged man dejectedly sitting on the side of the street drinking glances at his phone and we notice that his mother is the only person on his call list with several calls on recent days lasting only seconds. He then receives a call from his brother informing him that she is in a coma after having apparently attempted to take her own life in the wake of a terminal cancer diagnosis she had not shared with either of them. 

Apparently autobiographically inspired, Yoshitaka Kamada’s Hokkaido-set drama Ranshima Bound (蘭島行) examines fracturing familial relationships and the subterfuge that is sometimes necessary to make them work. After receiving the phone call, Yoshio comes across the body of a woman floating in a river. Next thing we know, she’s travelling with him to Ranshima where he purchases a pair of wedding rings and dress in a pawn shop. Feeling unhappy about what he has achieved in life, he asks Maki (Yuko Kii) to pose as his wife so that he can show her off to his mother when she wakes up.

It seems that Yoshio (Tomoki Kimura) went to Tokyo to be a punk musician, play in a band, and change the world, but he is no longer living a punk lifestyle and his musical dreams seem not to have panned out. He tells his brother than he has a part-time job inspecting concrete to ensure it meets safety standards, but it is not clear if this is actually the truth. Satoshi, meanwhile, is a respectable middle-aged man with a successful career who is married with a teenage daughter. The two brothers seem to be somewhat estranged and not particularly well informed about what’s going on with each other’s lives, though Satoshi is still a little hurt and surprised that Yoshio has apparently got married without even letting him know. In any case, he tries to include Maki in all the arrangements while she does her best to play along.

She does, however, become unexpectedly upset when the two brothers joke about disposing of their mother’s ashes, perhaps because she comes to stand in for the mother’s absence. Reading his mother’s diaries, Yoshio comes to understand his mother’s wishes for after her death and also that she missed her sons who seemed not to have paid her much attention while she was alive. For unexplained reasons, she didn’t contact them when their father passed away and seems to have become depressed in her widowhood even before the cancer diagnosis. Both sons appear to feel guilty in different ways, Yoshio having avoided his mother because of his internalised shame and suspicion that she would have preferred him to become a regular salaryman like his brother. Satoshi, meanwhile, justifies himself that he prioritised his family, though as it turns out he maybe a victim of his own “success”. His marriage is failing largely because he is always away working and hardly every home. He and his wife are considering divorcing when their daughter finishes high school.

Neither of them particularly want their mother’s apartment, but they don’t want to deal with it either while they’d still have to go on paying the land taxes until it’s sold if their mother were to die. They’re also now responsible for paying the storage fees at the temple where their mother had interred their father’s ashes, though in her diary she states that she wants their ashes scattered at sea together. The request baffles the boys who aren’t quite sure why she wanted that or what sea she means before deciding it’s probably where they used to go holiday when they children, a once prosperous but now rundown resort area that seems to mimic their own sense of lonely despair. It seems that their mother wanted to return to a time when the family was at its happiest, while in the present day each has become mired in their own sorrow and insecurity. Though in some ways it may seem as if Yoshio is able to heal a rift through his fake marriage subterfuge, it cannot in the repair his family nor can the family really save any of them. Nevertheless, there is a vague sense of hope amid bleakness as the Yoshio returns to say goodbye to his mother with Maki still waiting at the train station rather than leaving alone.

Ranshima Bound screened as part of this year’s Camera Japan.

Trailer (English subtitles)

Ah Girl (泡泡糖女孩, Ang Geck Geck, 2026)

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A young girl attempts to make sense of the world around her amid her parents’ acrimonious separation, but finally discovers that all she can rely on is herself in Ang Geck Geck’s autobiographically inspired drama Ah Girl (泡泡糖女孩). Set in the Singapore of the 1990s, the film casts its young heroine adrift without parental guidance or even a firm sense of home as each parent is, in their own way, immature and resentful of the responsibility of raising children.

That’s partly why Swee Swee and her tomboyish sister Ah Tian are mainly being raised by their paternal grandmother, supported financially by their mother who spoils them at weekends, and ignored by their father who has started a series of new relationships each with larger ladies, which is something that puzzles Swee Swee even as she begins to realise what’s going on. One evening, Swee Swee’s mother tearfully phones her, saying she’s found a flat she likes and swearing that Swee Swee can come and live with her when she’s saved enough money to secure it. Swee Swee’s mother makes no mention of Tian, which is another thing that worries Swee Swee as she finds herself adopting a maternal position over her sister.

Despite her mother’s tearfulness, it appears that she does not always want the children with her either. When Swee Swee injures her foot after becoming upset on a swing, her mother is annoyed to have been called at short notice and tells Swee Swee off rather than trying to comfort her or express concern for her injury. Though she is also stressed by the need to keep up with mortgage payments and secure their new home, she also embraces the freedom of her newly single life. While taking the girls to the swimming pool, she remains on the side reading a magazine rather than playing with them before ignoring her daughters completely to flirt with another man. In some ways, Swee Swee doesn’t mind. She prayed to god to ask for her mother’s happiness, and is glad that she seems to be doing better emotionally, but also feels neglected and pushed out.

When her mother asks her whom she’d like to live with in the future, Swee Swee diplomatically says she doesn’t know, though her mother obviously looks hurt. Tian immediately says she wants to stay with her father, but this may not actually be an option. The question only undermines Swee Swee’s faith in each of her parents as she begins to see their flaws and hypocrisies. She wonders why adults always lie, but comes to the confusion that they’re perpetually “confused” and have no more idea what’s going on than she does. She can’t rely on them for guidance, nor even for a strong foundation. The only grounded relationship she has is with “Auntie Japan,” one of her father’s girlfriends who genuinely cares for and tries to help her, but even this is eventually ruined by her father’s irresponsibility. 

Everyone seems strangely obsessed with Japan despite its recent economic downturn. Her grandmother’s neighbour has just returned from a trip there, while her grandmother likes to watch Japanese variety shows on television and wants to visit there, too, but at the same time was a child during the Japanese occupation and has ambivalent feelings towards the nation. Swee Swee’s mother is a Japanese-speaking tour guide who plans to take a tour group to the memorial for those who were killed during the war, but also buys Swee Swee large quantities of Japanese chewing gum that she illicitly sells at school for a little extra money. As a news item reveals, chewing gum has recently been banned for sale or importation in an effort to improve public hygiene and there are heavy penalties for bringing it into the country.

This rather draconian measure may serve to bear out the oppressiveness of Singaporean society and its obsession with rules, but also demonstrates Swee Swee’s cheeky resourcefulness. She and Tian raid the local rubbish bins, picking out things like crayons and toy cars for Tian that no one is providing for them now that they’ve been caught between their parents with no one taking full responsibility. Perhaps because of this, Swee Swee is keen to assert her own identity. She’s confused on her first day at school because the teacher tried to use an English name she didn’t know she had. She asks to be called “Swee Swee” instead, though most of her classmates use English names and some call her “Eileen” anyway. 

Swee Swee takes a liking a boy who tells him that he has two girls that he likes, but can’t choose between them. Given her circumstances, Swee Swee asks if one is for weekends and the other during the week, but the boy says his mother told him that in life you have to make a choice, you can’t have one thing and the other. This, of course, upsets her, because she knows she’ll have to choose one parent and agonises over the choice. Meanwhile, her father plans to have Tian adopted by a wealthy couple who are moving to Australia, despite her loyalty towards him. The boy tells Swee Swee he likes girls with long hair, which is one reason she resents it when her grandmother forces her to cut it, but eventually loses faith in him when she sees him fondling another girl’s plaits, abruptly ending their friendship. In the end, she has only herself to rely on. The 4:3 aspect ratio may evoke a sense of nostalgia, though Swee Swee may not have much to feel nostalgic about. Nevertheless, the film exudes a sense of warmth and a generosity of spirit to those around her who aren’t necessarily bad, just struggling in their own way, while despite her melancholy Swee Swee seems to have reached an understanding of herself and the world that eventually allows her to transcend her circumstances.

Ah Girl screened as part of this year’s Toronto International Film Festival.

Trailer (Traditional Chinese / English subtitles)

We’re Both Grooms (僕もアイツも新郎です。Koji Tanaka, 2022)

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Ryosuke (Shono Hayama) is about to marry the love of his life, Mizuki (Hiroki Iijima), but there’s just one snag. He’s never got round to telling his family or any of his friends that he’s gay, and a sizeable contingent of the wedding party are under the assumption that he’s going to be marrying a woman. A recent addition to the wedding farce genre, Koji Tanaka’s We’re Both Grooms (僕もアイツも新郎です。, Boku mo Aitsu no Shinro desu.) explores both the lingering homophobia in the contemporary society and the internalised shame and fear that prevents people from fully committing to what it is they really want out of life.

It is after all perhaps a little bit strange to meet your child’s intended for the first time at the wedding, but no one really seems to remark on the fact that they have no idea who the groom is supposed to be marrying. But then again, it seems Ryosuke didn’t invite half of these people, they were reeled in by his overzealous mother who, like everyone else, has made a massive assumption. That in itself may imply that Ryosuke doesn’t have many friends. He doesn’t seem to have invited anyone to the wedding aside from his boss, the headmaster of the school where he works, whom he also hasn’t told he’s gay leading to some last minute wedding speech panic. Though his boss is keen to assure him he’s fine with that sort of thing, it’s clear his original speech was full of misogynistic jokes and male banter, while his attempts to correct himself reveal a latent homophobia.

Meanwhile, a childhood friend, again invited by Ryosuke’s mother, is on the one hand hurt he never shared this part of his life with her, and resentful as it seems she had romantic designs on him that prevented her from pursuing other relationships. Mizuki has also invited an ex to the wedding who takes Ryosuke to task for treating Mizuki like a dirty secret, asking how they can live a happy life together if Ryosuke can’t even acknowledge their relationship in public let alone tell the world of his love for Mizuki. Mizuki is also starting to feel guilty and conflicted, realising that he’s insensitively forced Ryosuke into coming out because of his desire to paper over his own anxiety about their relationship through a public commitment ceremony. Japan does not currently legally recognise same-sex marriages, but Mizuki is hoping that the wedding will clarify their relationship status and what they mean to each other, only it seems to have backfired. 

The main obstacle is Ryosuke’s traditionalist, civil servant father (Mantaro Koichi) who outright tries to stop the wedding claiming that his son is just “easily led” and must have been led astray by Mizuki. While all of Mizuki’s family know and accept that he is gay and have also warmed to Ryosuke, Ryosuke’s family do not seem to understand and cannot get their heads around the idea of two men being in a committed relationship despite the grandmother’s public telling off of her son and unexpected announcement that she too is bisexual and that her first love was another woman. Surprisingly, Ryosuke’s father explains that he used to be a delinquent so he faced familial disapproval when he married too but was warmly supported by his wife. Though he confesses that he really just wanted to see Ryosuke marry someone who would make him happy, it takes him quite a bit longer to figure out that he’s trying to do just that. 

The biggest problem remains, however, Ryosuke himself who has evidently not reached the level of self-acceptance that would allow him to fully commit to a romantic relationship, as he’s advised by the ever-helpful wedding planner trying to keep the event on track. Only once he becomes more sure of himself, can tell people proudly that he is gay and that Mizuki is the love of his life, do those around begin to see the authenticity of their relationship and accept it as they would any other. Even Mizuki’s incredibly stiff father eventually comes around with a speech to the effect that the true beauty of life lies in diversity. Despite the farcical comedy at its centre, the film ends on a surprisingly touching note as the couple reaffirm their love for each other and also see it embraced by those around them.

Trailer (English subtitles)

Smugglers (밀수, Ryoo Seung-wan, 2023)

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A collection of free divers decide it’s time to take control of the boat in Ryoo Seung-wan’s 1970s-set action drama, Smugglers (밀수, Milsu). The smoke rising from factory chimneys in the opening sequence as the fisherwomen pull into port ought to tip us off that this is partly a story of capitalistic corruption taking place during the economic miracle late into the rule of dictator Park Chung-hee. These factories may have made some rich and provided jobs for local men who can no longer make a living from the land, but it’s also destroyed the livelihood of these traditional divers. They return with a full haul, but are dismayed to discover that all of the shell fish is rotten because of the chemicals illegally spilled into the water by the local plants while the authorities have either been bribed or turn a blind eye.

This is, in a lot of ways, the prevailing culture, as customs officers can also be bought off or choose to turn a blind eye when it suits them. One man is seen arriving by boat wearing several pairs of jeans to sell on the black market, while others carry bags full of foreign cigarettes and other contraband items the customs officials would be within their rights to “confiscate”. A local man starts putting pressure on the captain of the boat that drives the divers to start picking up other things have been dropped into the ocean, as it seems that everyone’s doing it anyway and there aren’t any other ways to make money in the local economy. He isn’t very happy about it, but his daughter Jin-sook (Yum Jung-ah) and her friend Choon-ja (Kim Hye-soo) along with most of the other women are blinded by the vast amounts of money they begin receiving that allow them to start living the high life in a growing local culture of excess as symbolised by the presence of a nightclub. Even gangster Kwon, when he arrives a few years later, is surprised to discover that this rural backwater has its own cinema and entertainment scene.

Kwon (Zo In-sung) is also someone who has been corrupted by his time serving in the Vietnam War, having lost his humanity and become ruthless to the extent of sadistic violence. Nevertheless, he’s also someone whom Choon-ja later thinks that she can manipulate on returning to the harbour town two years after escaping from the scene of the arrest when the other women were captured by police. That she ran off and has not been seen again leads some to the inevitable conclusion that she sold them out and made a new life in Seoul on the proceeds. There is then a degree of mistrust between herself and Jin-sook who suffered personal tragedy and spent time in prison while Choon-ja bided her time, waiting to put her plan in action. 

For much of the running time, the audience is a long way ahead of the cast in figuring out what actually happened during the first failed smuggling mission which makes the final revelations fall rather flat, yet it comes to something that the women largely find themselves powerless and divided in the face of male authority. Jin-sook has not inherited her father’s boat as it has been taken over by Hammer (Park Jeong-min) who was only a lowly assistant when she was arrested. She continues to be at his mercy despite being the de facto leader of the divers without whom the smuggling operation would fall apart. The return of Choon-ja then gives them an opportunity to leverage female solidarity and turn the tables on the men who exploit their labour and offer little in return.

Jin-sook’s initial reluctance to work with Choon-ja results in one of the divers going out into shark-infested waters and losing a leg in desperation to feed her family. Ironically, her husband had already lost an arm in a maritime accident, preventing him from working. The mistrust she faces also bears out Choon-ja’s claim that when you’re poor, the blame will always fall on you even if you haven’t done anything wrong. In the end, these women have only themselves to rely on if they want to turn the boat around. The film really kicks into gear in the third act as it enters conspiracy heist mode and Ryoo engages in his characteristically well-designed action sequences including a mass knife fight in a hotel and an impressive underwater sequence in which the divers have to fend off both assassins and sharks while trying to retrieve the bounty. Where it really excels, however, is in period detail and the sense of camaraderie that arises between the women as they finally become determined to seize the wheel.

Trailer (English subtitles)

Wind Breaker (WIND BREAKER／ウィンドブレイカー, Kentaro Hagiwara, 2025)

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Throughout the fairly long history of delinquent fighting movies, they were mainly taken at face value as contests of masculinity conducted between adolescent men that may not always have had much to them beyond the battle to reach the top. More recent entries in the genre have, however, begun to reinterrogate its themes along with the kind of masculinity to which these young men subscribe. This is undoubtedly the case in Kentaro Hagiwara’s Wind Breaker (WIND BREAKER／ウィンドブレイカー), adapted from the manga by Satoru Nii, which pits the individualistic desire for domination against that for a healthier and more accepting vision of group unity that exists for the purpose of protecting the community.

This kind of duality is embodied in the hero, Sakura (Koshi Mizukami), who has just arrived in town with the intention of becoming top dog at Furin High School. Sakura has two-tone hair neatly divided down the middle while sporting a golden eye on his white side. His unusual appearance has made him a social outcast rejected by those around him, and so he has decided that violence is one way he can be successful as no one cares what you look like while you’re fighting. Similarly, his dilemma is manifested visually through repeated dream sequences in which he’s walking a narrow tightrope while facing rejection on all sides. 

He will, however, be disappointed to have arrived in this town as the delinquents of Furin High have already rebranded and are no longer interested in fighting for fighting’s sake. Rather they act as a kind of local community militia patrolling the streets to stop rival yellow-jacketed gang Shishitoren from hassling the mostly elderly shopkeepers. Most of the action takes place in a narrow high street-style shopping area which both gives it the feel of a Wild West town and harks back to an older Japan which is in reality already disappearing. Seen from above in the opening crane shot, it appears to be a slightly run-down former slum area, but we can see that it has already been repurposed into a kind of hipster paradise given a friendly feel by the orange and teal colour scheme and modern painted signage. Rather than markets or shops offering basic services like dry cleaning and key cutting, these mainly seem to be artisanal cafes. Nevertheless, most of the proprietors appear to be elderly people whom the young men are dedicated to both protecting and assisting. In return, they have been somewhat adopted by them with the shopkeepers freely giving out food and produce as a thank you rather an as protection. 

This does not sit that well with Sakura who resists making friends and only agrees to join the group in the hope of finally fighting its leader Ume (Shuhei Uesugi), a young guy with grey hair who fulfils the role of the wise old man. He’s set up a garden on the school roof and somehow installed a giant tree up there. His wholesome desire for a kind of pastoralisation or a managed ecological take over the urban space stands in stark contrast to the of Shishitoren whose territory is a mess of discarded paper strewn with makeshift fabric banners that echo post-industrial apocalyptic decline. Similarly, Shishitoren subscribe to a quasi-fascist philosophy which values only strength with gang leader Choji (Koki Yamashita) actively beating up and kicking out guys who lose fights. 

Yet as Ume says, fighting is dialogue and these physical clashes are also ways for young men to work out emotional problems they may not even have identified. Choji may be fighting a kind of ennui in having reached the top and realised there’s no where else to go, while his conflicted subordinate realises his desire to support his friend was misplaced and rather than going along with him the right thing to do would have been to discourage his obsession with physical strength and loathing of “weakness”. Sakura too comes to realise that true weakness lies in the inability to trust and rely on others. Fighting only has merit when it’s in service of something other than oneself. Thus masculinity is defined as something rooted in family, community, and brotherhood rather than in aggression and violence, though the only real way to win is not to fight at all. Anchored by strong production design and well-crafted action sequences, the film has an air of sincerity in its earnest messaging that perhaps cuts across the grain of contemporary debate and offers a more positive view of the future marked by progress and positivity rather than darkness and violence.

Trailer (English subtitles)

Fight Against Evil 3 (东北警察故事3, Yang Bingjia, 2026)

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Top cop Li Hongqi (returns for another holiday gone wrong in the third instalment of the Fight Against Evil series, and there is indeed some serious evil to be thought. Directed this time by Yang Bingjia rather than Qin Pengfei, Fight Against Evil 3 (东北警察故事3, Dōngběi jǐngchá gùshi)received a theatrical release in Mainland China rather than premiering on IQYI’s streaming service and so benefits from slightly higher production values and features a mild tonal shift that sends the film into action comedy territory.

In fact the first “fight” takes place off-screen as Honqi casually takes down a man who’s taken his wife hostage so that he can finish a telephone call with the rather demanding mother-in-law (Diama Lin Xiaojie) he hasn’t actually me though he and his wife Touzi have already been married for two years. Having become estranged from her birthmother, Touzi tells him not to bother with her because she’s a handful, though Hongqi is keen to be a good son-in-law and hopes to broker a reconciliation by agreeing to his mother-in-law’s madcap plan to stage a second wedding in her hometown without actually telling Touzi until she gets there. 

In any case, Hongqi is immediately distracted when Xinxin (Ma Qianyi) , a cheerful teenage girl he met on the plane, is reported missing, suspected of having fallen victim to traffickers after failing to reach her grandfather’s house. Hongqi feels personally responsible because he said he’d take her, but had to leave after hearing that his mother-in-law had been arrested for causing trouble in a cafe. Nevertheless, the mother-in-law proves to be unusually well connected and helps him track down the local crime kingpin whom she apparently knew when he was a snivelling child getting beaten up for his lunch money. 

On his arrival in the town, Hong’s old friend Sun Biao (Cui Zhijia) tells him that times are different now and they have to do law enforcement in a more “civilised” way, which might suggest that things work differently here compared to the city, though as it turns out Hong’s skills are still in demand as he finds himself repeatedly getting into brawls with the local bad guys. Even Baio also gets into the swing of things wanting to prove that his fighting skills are still as good as Hongqi’s. This is, however, violence very much in the service as justice as everyone involved in the fights is already an active participant in the world of crime and the violence is being used to subdue rather than interrogate them.

Meanwhile, the trafficking gang seems to be an offshoot of some kind of cult that attracts people who’ve encountered financial ruin due to contemporary social issues from being scammed to failing in business or developing a gambling problem. Most of the lower-ranking members are doing this more out of desperation and have abandoned their humanity as a means of survival, not that it excuses what they’ve done. The leader, meanwhile, experienced a tragedy of her own which seems to have affected her mind and has made her especially attached to young Xinxin who otherwise proves plucky and resourceful with her repeated attempts to escape from the gang.

Despite the grimness of the subject matter, the film finds plenty of opportunities for comedy not least in the zany antics of Hongqi’s mother-in-law who also has a justice-loving heart and at one point takes off to catch the kidnappers herself on her moped. There’s a fundamental absurdity to Hong’s existence in which he’s been yet again drawn into a case while supposedly on holiday while attempting to keep his demanding mother-in-law happy and keeping the whole thing secret from wife in the hope he can either bamboozle her into taking part or she will arrive and talk her mother out of it. This sense of absurdity also carries over into some of the fight scenes in which Hongqi has to fight off an entire gang while his mother-in-law hides under a table in a pool hall or has to go undercover in a club, despite looking the most like a policeman it’s possible to look without actually wearing a uniform.

It is not, however, all slapstick and still features some seriously impressive action sequences. The film also makes some attempt to mine humour in the decidedly unfunny customary series of title cards explaining that the nation is taking measures to combat human trafficking and explaining that everyone was caught and punished in accordance of law before finishing on a note that explains China has over two million police officers, which is intended to be reassuring but perhaps is also the exact opposite. Nevertheless, the film is a great deal fun as Hongqi and his mother-in-law fight off bad guys while simultaneously planning a wedding.

Fight Against Evil 3 screens 23rd August as part of Big Bad Film Fest.

Trailer (Simplified Chinese subtitles only)

Match Monde (マッチモンド, Ryusuke Kurahashi, 2026)

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Scripted by Yugo Sakamoto, Ryusuke Kurahashi’s low-budget adaptation of the Shogo Horiuchi manga Match Monde seems to be aiming for a Baby Assassins vibe while placing a contemporary spin on the classic high school delinquents fighting manga. Unlike many similarly themed films, high school never actually features and most of the users of fighting app Match Monde appear to be long past high school age even if it’s supposed to be limited to those 18 and under. 

The title is a kind pun in that Match Monde operates in the same way as a dating app, though it allows members to find worthy opponents for fighting. Users can also monetise their pugilistic talents though taking the “bounty” from defeated opponents, or pick up tips through live streaming. It’s not really clear why Mikio (Kotaro Daigo) is on this app as he dislikes fighting and seems to be something of a coward. In the opening sequence, he waits outside pretending to play on his phone while his best friend Yuta is beaten up by a bullying gang of older kids that Mikio later hides in a bin to avoid. It’s while running away, however, that he bumps into Mahiro (Masayoshi Katsuki) who can’t really be bothered to fight anyone but gives Mikio some life advice to the fact that he should be fighting to protect something important rather than just to protect himself. 

Mahiro is a bit a stock character in these kinds of stories, walking around with a beatific smile permanently on his face and carrying a strangely vacant aura. Obviously, it turns out that he’s a top fighter and high school drop out who is willing to fight for Mikio after seeing him develop his resolve to stand up to the bullies rather than let his friend get beaten up on his own again. Like Baby Assassins, however, the film is perhaps a little bit more interested in the boys’ mundane lives than it is in the fighting. Mahiro ropes Mikio in to help out at a part-time job working in his childhood friend Suzuna’s cafe because he says he seems kind earnest, which is broadly true, while Mahiro struggles to knuckle down and work and fears letting his friend down in that way.

While it may have strongly homoerotic undertones, particularly in the relationship between sometime villain Mairu and his late “best friend” Kitano who was murdered after becoming a delinquent, the film’s humour is distinctly old school and in some ways spills over into sexism as the defeated bullies are seen acting in stereotypically feminine ways such as knitting scarves for each other. Meanwhile, Mahiro and Mikio aren’t really afraid of getting into fights with the delinquents, but are apparently terrified of being told off by Shizuna. 

The focus is indeed on traditional masculinity which is rooted in protecting those weaker than oneself, especially women, though here also avoiding becoming someone who deliberately picks on picks on easy targets to assert their dominance as Mikio had been doing. Perhaps the only reason he was on the app was to prove Yuta wrong when he called him a coward, though he quickly ends up being exploited by the bullies who force him to fight so they can take his winnings, as optimistic as that might be. As the so-called “Penniless King”, Mahiro comes to occupy the space of an underdog hero who isn’t even technically in the game, but ends up winning it anyway just by virtue of being a cool guy who’s good with his fists.

Speaking of which, the fight scenes are sometimes unpolished but generally well choreographed. There seems to be some attempt to set up a continuing series with repeated references to a friend who is no longer on the scene as well as an incongruous appearance by Danhi Kinoshita, the star of Takashi Miike’s Blazing Fists, seemingly in a background, non-speaking part as a random member of Mairu’s gang. The potential there is quite interesting given that the natural result of all these boys fighting is that they end up becoming friends, even as Mairu insists he wants to defeat all the delinquents in revenge for his friend’s death so he’ll be the only one left and they’ll cause no more harm. Who knew that what they were really fighting was loneliness? Maybe Match Monde is friendship app after all.

Match Monde screens 23rd August as part of Big Bad Film Fest.

Trailer (no subtitles)

Salmokji: Whispering Water (살목지, Lee Sang-min, 2026)

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Is there something a little bit uncanny about a manmade lake? Despite the sign warning of deep water and potential loss of life, the area surrounding the Salmokji reservoir is otherwise idyllic, its ominous “dead tree lake” name not withstanding. You wouldn’t necessarily know that it was only created in 1982 for the purpose of storing water for agricultural use. Its modernity seems slightly incongruous with the presence of a ghost.

Perhaps this is why it has become a tourist hotspot following the surprising success of Lee Sang-min’s low-budget indie horror Salmokji: Whispering Water (살목지), having previously mentioned on late-night TV show Midnight Horror Story. The location’s sense of eeriness ironically seems to stems from its disconnection from the modern world. A physicist who claimed not to believe in the supernatural reported that she nearly drove into the reservoir after her car’s GPS malfunctioned and subsequently suffered misfortune after visiting the area. The inability to get a phone signal or connect to cloud networks etc may of course be due to the fact that is surrounded by mountains and rocky terrain rather than the presence of a malevolent spiritual entity who is actively blocking digital signals. Yet its also true that the natural silence of this tranquil environment can be disquieting to those used to the ambient noise of a city.

In any case, within the world of the film the lake is a popular fishing destination as demonstrated by the couple visiting it in the opening sequence who are on what seems to be quite an early date in their relationship. The woman’s aversion to the worms used bait is also reflective of a new squeamishness regarding the natural environment that is also echoed when producer Su-in drops a box bait brought by her cameramen who were planning on staying behind once their job is done. Su-in’s irritation stems from a different source. They’re supposed to be here to work, and in fact to fix an urgent problem, though no one is taking it seriously and the team are largely behaving as if they’re here on a day trip. Junior producer Seong-bin has brought an intern with him he is clearly pursuing romantically, while she secretly plans to moonlight by filming footage for her personal horror vlog.

They’ve come to Salmokji because a ghostly figure has been spotted in a photo they uploaded, though it does not appear to have been one that was taken by them. As such, they urgently need to replace with a photo that is not cursed, because they’ve been getting complaints from the locals. It’s not really explained why they can’t just stop with deleting the original photo, but for some reason Su-in’s boss insists the image must replaced immediately. He even insists they stay overnight when it turns out further equipment is required and won’t reach them until after dark. This perhaps bears out another lingering horror in contemporary urban life with the pressure of workplace heirarchy and exploitative employment environments. The cameramen immediately resent Su-in for telling them off for bringing the fishing gear and subsequently reject her authority by disobeying her commands and belittling the idea of their actually being a ghost even when strange things start happening.

Su-in is also exposed as having tried to palm this job off on a colleague after visiting the area herself previously and deciding it was too creepy. Some suggest this is all then her fault, that the lake did this to make her come back and now she’s dragged all of them into it. She meanwhile seems to have been dealing with a potential crush on her team manager, a widower who may have been attracted to the lake by the rumours of it being somewhere that the worlds of the living and the dead intersect. The lake then also becomes a metaphor for a more literal drowning in grief, as if her co-worker willing embraced oblivion by walking into it in order to be reunited with his wife if in death rather than in life. The creepy old lady living nearby tells them to place a stone on a cairn and make a wish, but in reality this seals their fate just as getting even a toe wet later will. The real horror is that once marked by whatever is in the lake, there is no real possibility of escape and even if you think you’ve made it out, in reality you may not have. Incorporating some elements of food footage horror, Lee piled on the sense of supernatural dread right until the ambiguous ending that suggests all this has happened before and will happen again.

Trailer (Simplified Chinese & English subtitles)

All Wishes Come True! (八仙！, Mu Zhengyang, 2026)

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Long ago, a lantern defended humanity from the darkness. But now the lantern has gone missing, and the world is plagued by storms and turmoil. Those who can have fled to the glamorous city of Penglai where the mortal and immortal co-exist and destruction cannot follow. Mu Zhengyang’s animated epic All Wishes Come True! (八仙！, Bāxiān!) draws inspiration from the classic folktale Eight Immortals Crossing the Sea, dramatising it as an Oceans Eleven-esque caper in which a series of scrappy heroes must learn to put aside their greed for the greater good.

The very existence of Penglai is in itself a symptom of the problem. As some point out, the residents aren’t all that interested in finding the lantern because everything is fine in the city. The guardian gods who govern it, Fu Lu Shou, who represent luck, prosperity, and longevity, have become corrupt and are sitting on vast riches embezzled from citizens. Apparent hero Lü Dongbin believes that the lantern is hidden in their vault, but needs help to break in and retrieve it. He recruits local pickpocket Zhongli Quan, whom he believes reshaped the lantern to disguise it, on the promise of allowing him to take as much of the gold as he wants.

It turns out that Zhongli Quan was thrown out of the immortals academy for using an artefact to improve the lives of ordinary people suffering in a famine after prolonged drought. His master reprimands him that the vase is intended to help the elite, not a few peasants. He ironically curses Zhongli Quan that he will always be a thief and a liar, preventing him from living an honest life and forcing him into that of an outlaw. This has, in a way, made him cynical and greedy. The quest to retrieve the lantern presents an opportunity to break the curse and redeem himself, though Zhongli Quan always has half an eye on the gold. Lü Dongbin isn’t completely untainted either with the implication that he is the guardian who sold the lantern in a fit of pique having been passed over for promotion and is now trying to make it right by taking the lantern back. 

As such, the film presents an anti-capitalist, anti-consumerist message along with an ant-corruption sentiment as this team of ordinary mortals attempts to go against the gods by outsmarting Fu Lu Shou to reclaim the lantern and lift and the curse on the wider society. Zhongli Quan’s cynicism is an extension of that which has infected ordinary people who have been encouraged to believe that greed is good. As he and Lü Dongbin forge an uneasy alliance, there is a constant push and pull between them as Lü Dongbin does his best to bring Zhongli Quan back from the dark side by retrieving the lantern. 

The gang ironically attract some attention as apparent “thief catchers” signalling the ways in which people are not always who they claim to be. Nevertheless, they find themselves having to live up to the expectations of being a “hero”, gradually swapping their cynicism for a genuine desire to help those around them. This act of deciding to do the right thing in defiance of the authorities is both quietly subversive and a counter to the greed and selfishness which taken hold across the world along with the elitism that defines life in Penglai. 

At the same time, it’s clear that the gang can only succeed by working together and utilising each of their unique skills in harmony. In the end, they prosper precisely by calling in an unexpected ally who helps them pull off another heist on the villain through misdirection and subterfuge. Like many similar recent animated takes on classic folklore, the film humorously layers the modern world onto the fantasy setting through the swirling cloud highways that surround the city and opening taxi chase along with the magic wristbands that secure entry to Penglai’s VIP area. That the gang are later made immortals precisely so that the authorities can take credit for their actions is another ironic touch, suggesting that they can not really transcend the forces that constrain them. Nevertheless, what remains is the poignant tale of brotherhood and redemption in the relationship between Lü Dongbin and Zhongli Quan that quietly makes plain that in the end we save each other and kindness will always be repaid.

Trailer (Simplified Chinese and English subtitles)