Sunshine Women’s Choir (陽光女子合唱團, Gavin Lin, 2025)

The healing power of music allows a collection of women to transcend their incarceration in Gavin Lin’s tear-jerking prison drama, Sunshine Women’s Choir (陽光女子合唱團). Inspired by Kang Dae-kyu’s 2010 Korean film Harmony, Lin shifts the focus to female solidarity while highlighting how each of these women has been victimised under a patriarchal society. Participating in the choir becomes the sunshine in their lives, giving them a sense of connection and purpose that reunites them with the people they once were before the traumatic events that brought them to prison.

Hui-zhen (Ivy Chen Yi-han) gave birth to her baby Yu-shin after being convicted of murdering her abusive husband who had become violent and paranoid after being declared bankrupt during the 2008 financial crash. He did not want the baby, and began beating Hui-zhen in order to engineer a miscarriage. Hui-zhen, however, held out and was able to carry Yu-shin to term, which is what has earned her the admiration of prison guard You-wen who implies she was pressured into an abortion she didn’t want. Allowed to keep her daughter for the first three years, Hui-zhen is raising Yu-shin with the help of her doting cellmates who’ve become an extended family invested in Yu-shin’s future.

That might in some ways seem a little rosy, and prison life is presented as almost cosy as if Hui-zhen were engaging in a protracted series of sleepovers were it not for the occasional bouts of violence that, at one point, get her sent to solitary. Nevertheless, there is a sense that the women maybe better off in here, safe from male violence and interference and allowed a different kind of “freedom” even while imprisoned and subjected to the rigid routines of the prison. Even so, Chief Fang (Miao Ke-li), the head of the women’s prison, is not keen on Hui-zhen keeping Yu-shin whose presence requires adjustments to her carefully controlled order. She continually advises Hui-zhen to have her adopted early because this is no environment to raise a small child. 

Hui-zhen is faced with a choice when she discovers that Yu-shin has an eye condition that could lead to visual impairment that can’t be properly treated in the prison. Resolving that she may have to give her daughter up, Hui-zhen suggests starting the choir on noticing that she likes music and wanting to give her something to remember after they’ve parted. Being in the choir also helps the other women make peace with their past traumas while giving them a  sense of solidarity, not only that they were not alone in the suffering they experienced on the outside, but that they can encourage and support each other now no matter who they may have been before.

But this sense of solidarity also extends beyond the prison walls when it’s revelead that Yu-shin has been adopted by a same-sex couple. Yu-shin’s adoptive mother sympathises with Hui-zhen and accepts her place in Yu-shin’s life even while agreeing to Hui-zhen’s request never to tell her that her mother was a murderer. Similarly, Hui-zhen’s former cellmates watch over Yu-shin from the shadows after their releases, continuing their roles as secret aunties to ensure she grows up happy and healthy, never encountering the kind of suffering that led them to be incarerated.

Then again, the ironic nature of Hui-zhen’s fate suggests that she’s being punished a second time for the same crime which began at least as self-defence, and was ultimately committed to save the life of herself and her child even if it fits a legal definition of murder. The older woman she shares a cell with similarly pays for a crime she’s spent a lifetime atoning for that was motivated by her cheating husband’s rejection of their son who had learning difficulties. Just as Hui-zhen’s husband had blamed and beat her, Granny’s (Judy Ongg) husband becomes cruel due to the perceived would to his masculinity and social standing as the father of a child he sees as imperfect, while their daughter is more or less forgotten about. That she is ultimately unable reconcile with her mother until it’s too late seems like another cruel irony. Nevertheless, the song the choir sings insists that they were never once forgotten, and this final affirmation of selfless maternal love is in the end, the force that heals all wounds allowing the women to move from the traumatic past and into new lives of sunshine and happiness.


Sunshine Women’s Choir opens in UK cinemas on 17th April courtesy of Central City Media.

Trailer (English subtitles)

Wild Swords (无名狂, Li Yunbo, 2019)

Indie and wuxia might not be words that neatly fit together in the minds of many who perhaps associate the genre with lavish costumes and elaborate sets, but it is in essence one which values simplicity and innovation. Produced by Feng Xiaogang and financed through crowdfunding, Li Yunbo’s Wild Swords (无名狂, Wúmíng Kuáng) is a classic jianghu tale of warring sects, intrigue, and moral ambiguity that makes the most of its shoestring budget through striking cinematography and beautifully choreographed action sequences while spinning a complex tale of misdirected vengeance and fractured identity. 

Told largely through a series of Rashomon-esque conflicting flashbacks, the bulk of the action follows bandit Wang Yidao (Zhang Jian) who is made an offer he can’t refuse to escort a valuable prisoner, Kuo Chang-sheng (Zhang Xiao-chen), to an unnamed destination. Yidao didn’t want to take the job because he thinks it’s more trouble than it’s worth, and events will prove him right. The reason Chang-sheng is a wanted man is that he’s connected to the legendary Chang Wei-ren (Shang Bai) whom just about everyone wants to find, not least for his involvement in the death of the heir to the Tang-Men, the rival clan he holds responsible for the destruction by poison of his own Nameless sect. Eventually Yidao becomes aware that his mysterious client is Bai Xiaotian (Sui Yongliang), another former member of the Nameless who is looking for Wei-ren for purposes of revenge.

The Tang-Men are well known as master poisoners, a plot device frequently employed and eventually wreaking psychological havoc on the central three as Xiaotian reveals that the greatest Tang-Men technique allows the user to change their appearance leading him to believe that any one of them, including perhaps himself, could actually be Wei-ren in “disguise”. Meanwhile, he outlines his time among the Nameless, resentful of Wei-ren who rivalled him in swordsmanship and it seems love. Chang-sheng, however, has quite a different version of events apparently relayed to him by Wei-ren whom he now believes to be dead. Yidao knows not who if anyone to believe, but has little time to think about it after becoming swept up in the Tang-Men’s quest to chase down Wei-ren. 

Perhaps slightly subversive, Wei-ren’s version has him both becoming weary of the heartless philosophy of the Nameless while simultaneously painting them as the good guys who refused to lackey for an authoritarian government which ironically requested their assistance in getting rid of “evil factions”. Xiaotian sees his rival as a lazy goofball, his lack of application only fuelling Xiaotian’s resentment towards him, yet Wei-ren sees himself as a sensitive loner who looked to the sect for a family only to find merciless ruthlessness in which all are disposable aside from the chosen one. As he tells Xiaotian, when you climb to the summit of martial arts, all you see is the abyss waiting below and no matter how fast you think you are, there is always someone faster. The ones who die are the ones who hold back.  

Wringing genuine intrigue out of its complex, conspiracy-laden narrative, Wild Swords is careful to make space for the genre essential fight in a teahouse which also introduces us to the pretty boy villain of the Tang-Men, Wuque (Eric Hsiao), as he relentlessly stalks his prey in order to gain revenge for the murder of the Tang heir. Caught up in their identity drama, the three men begin to realise the futility and meaninglessness inherent in the world of jianghu in which there is only the “bitterness of life”. They are each one and the same, sole survivors of a vanquished clan carrying the weight of those they failed to protect. Beautifully lensed and set against the majestic natural scenery, Li Yunbo’s slightly revisionist take on the classic wuxia finds its conflicted heroes at war with themselves pursuing misdirected vengeance against those they blame for their loss while wilfully misunderstanding the cause of all their suffering as they pursue their jianghu destiny to its natural conclusion. 


Wild Swords streamed as part of this year’s San Diego Asian Film Festival.

Teaser trailer (dialogue free)