Tag: Mandarin

Detective Chinatown 1900 (唐探1900, Chen Sicheng & Dai Mo, 2025)

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The Detective Chinatown team head back to turn of the contrary San Francisco in the latest instalment of the mega hit franchise, Detective Chinatown 1900 (唐探1900, Tángtàn 1900). Like many recent mainstream films, its main thrust is that Chinese citizens are only really safe in China, but also implies that diaspora communities exist outside the majority population and therefore can only rely on each other. Nevertheless, there’s something quite uncanny in the film’s ironic prescience as racist politicians wax on about how here rules are made by the people rather than an emperor and plaster “make America strong again” banners on their buses. 

The crime here though is the murder of a young white woman, Alice (Anastasia Shestakova), the daughter of Senator Grant (John Cusack) who is attempting to push the renewal of the Chinese Exclusion Act through government and destroy all the Chinatowns in the United States. An older Native American man was also found dead alongside her. Some have attributed the crime to Jack the Ripper as Alice was mutilated before she died and some of her organs were taken. The son of local gangster Bai (Chow Yun-Fat), Zhenbang (Zhang Xincheng), is quickly arrested for the crime while his father hires Qin Fu (Liu Hairan) to exonerate him believing Qin Fu to be Sherlock Holmes. 

What Qin Fu, an expert in Chinese medicine recently working as an interpreter for the famous consulting detective, finds himself mixed up in is also a slow moving revolution as it turns out Zhenbang is involved with the plot to overthrow the Qing dynasty (which would finally fall in 1912). As the film opens, corrupt courtiers to sell off large golden Buddha statues to American “allies” who are later seen saying that they plan to fleece China and then renege on their promises to protect it. Meanwhile, the Dowager Empress has sent emissaries to San Francisco to take out the revolutionaries in hiding there including Sun Yat-sen.

Of course, in this case, the Qing are the bad guys that were eventually overthrown by brave Communist revolutionaries that paved the way for China of today which is alluded to in the closing scenes when Zhenbang’s exiled friend Shiliang (Bai Ke) says that China will one day become the most powerful country in the world implying that no-one will look down on the Chinese people again. But on the other hand, they are still all Chinese and so the emissary tells Qin Fu to “Save China” as he lays dying having met his own end shortly after hearing that the British have invaded Peking signalling the death blow for the Qing dynasty. 

Nevertheless, there is a degree of irony in the fact that the secondary antagonist is an Irish gang who have signs reading “no dogs, no Chinese,” mimicking those they themselves famously face. The Irish gang is in league with Grant and content to do his dirty work, while Bai is supported by another prominent man who speaks Mandarin and pretends to be a friend to the Chinese but in reality is against the Exclusion Act on the grounds he wants to go on being able to exploit cheap Chinese labour. In this iteration, Ah Gui (Wang Baoqiang) is “Ghost,” a man whose parents were killed building the American railroad and was subsequently taken in and raised by a Native American community. In Bai’s final confrontation with the authorities, he takes them to task for their hypocrisy reminding them how important the Chinese have been in building the society in which they alone are privileged while “equality” does not appear to extend to them.

Through reinforcing these messages of prejudice and exploitation, the film once again encourages Chinese people living abroad to return home. Though set in 1900, the scenes of protest can’t help but echo those we’ve seen in the wake of the Covid-19 pandemic when racist hatred towards Asian communities has become much more open and pronounced. Qin Fu and Ghost do at least succeed in solving the mystery through scientific principles while ironically assisted by an earnest American policeman who says he thinks it’s important to uphold the law even as we can see the head of the golden Buddha sitting behind the victorious politician’s banquet table and realise that in reality taking out Grant has made little difference for the Exclusion Act will still be renewed (it was repealed only in 1943). They may have saved Chinatown, but Bai must sacrifice his American wealth and return to China much the way he left it having reflected on his life in light of the revolutionary course charted by his more earnest son. As Ghost and Qin Fu remark, if things were better there no one would want to come here though they themselves apparently elect to stay, solving more crimes and making sure that their descendants know they were here and where they were from.

International trailer (Simplified Chinese / English subtitles)

Born to Fly (长空之王, Liu Xiaoshi, 2023)

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Elite test pilots set out to reclaim Chinese “dignity and security” through the development of a next generation stealth fighter in Liu Xiaoshi’s action drama, Born to Fly (长空之王, Chángkōng zhī Wáng). Clearly a riposte to Top Gun: Maverick (which was not approved for release in Mainland China), the film was originally scheduled as a National Day release and is another in a long line of “main melody” movies paying tribute to particular areas of military and civil service as evidenced by the use of actual voice recordings from downed pilots at the film’s conclusion and a lengthy pause on an aerial shot of the airmen’s cemetery praising those who gave their lives for the country. 

The main thrust is however that China is ready to defend itself. The film ends with a show of force much like that at the end of Operation Red Sea, though curiously for a propaganda film the implication is very much that China is lagging behind in terms of military technology and as the film begins lacks the necessary capability to hold its own against foreign aggression. The planes that stray into its airspace buzzing an oil rig and causing havoc with a sonic boom are never directly named as American but their pilots speak US-accented English while sticking one finger up and declaring “we can come and go wherever we want”.

To that extent, the central battle is as much between Western individualism and the collective spirit as it is a race for hegemony over the skies. Hot shot pilot Lei Yu (Wang Yibo) originally turns down the opportunity to join the elite test pilot squad because he wants to fight on the frontline and get personal revenge against the enemy planes. He also has a grudge against arch rival Deng Fang (Yu Shi) because he did not salute him after he beat him to a coveted Golden Helmet award and then accused him of cheating. What they have to set aside is, in contrast to the American Top Gun, the notion of “being the best” or engaging in an egoistic individual struggle to be named a winner. Instead, they must learn to work together for the common good so that China may be declared the winner as the planes they’ve risked their lives to perfect are in the best shape to protect frontline pilots and allow them to safeguard the Chinese people. 

Meanwhile, like other recent similarly themed main melody movies, the film is keen to sell the message that China stands alone and has been unfairly shunned by the international community. The leaders of the test pilot programme constantly complain that Western powers have refused to share technology with them or have attempted to limit their ability to innovate through embargoes and blackouts. They insist that China will have to create its own discoveries, but hint at an under-confidence in their ability to do so which is in some ways at odds with the usual propaganda messaging even if it spurs a sense of collective urgency that all hands are needed on deck to solve this particular problem before it’s too late. 

Lei’s unsupportive father even tells him point blank that he does not believe China can develop a stealth fighter and he is risking his life for nothing. Tellingly, Lei’s father had wanted to send him abroad and resents his decision to join the military. In order to serve his country, Lei must break a taboo by defying his father, while it’s later revealed that Deng’s father was a fighter pilot who was killed on the frontlines after winning an award while training in Russia. In another moment of surprising messaging, Deng wonders if his father might have survived if he’d been given a better plane to fly which is why he’s committed to the test pilot programme and the reason he’s eventually able to give up his ego and agree to assist Lei in testing his bright new idea for the stealth fighter rather than chasing glory for himself as the lead pilot. 

All of that aside, Lei is allowed the mild distraction of an extremely subtle romance with an airforce doctor played by Zhou Dongyu in a “special appearance” who decides to give up her transfer back to the south to commit herself to the test pilot programme after being touched by Lei’s grumpy heroism. In any case, the message is very much about pushing the limits as far as they will go while striving together for the common good. Jingoistic it may be but Liu manages to sell the aerial spectacle and sense of danger as his elite pilots risk all in the name of patriotism.

Trailer (Simplified Chinese / English subtitles)

A Legend (传说, Stanley Tong, 2024)

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The funny thing about the strangely generic title of Stanley Tong’s latest Jackie Chan vehicle A Legend (传说, chuánshuō) is that it’s at least partly in reference to its now ageing star rather than the tragic love story at the film’s centre which at least tries to echo the epic romances of historical fiction. That might in part explain the rather dubious decision to use AI de-aging technology to cast Chan as the tragic lover in addition to his role as a veteran archeologist researching the gravesite of a Han general’s horse. 

While de-aging Chan robs an age-appropriate actor of the opportunity, it’s equally true that it adds another note of uncanniness to the historical scenes contributing to their rather lifeless quality and otherwise becoming a frustrating distraction given that more often than not the actor’s face simply appears odd and doesn’t particularly look like a young Chan anyway any more than casting a younger actor with a physical resemblance might have done. In any case, despite the frequent discussions of history among Chan’s team, the historical scenes have a fantastical quality that’s much more like contemporary video games than classic wuxia. This may be deliberate given that a new addition to Professor Fang’s team is a video game developer who wants to create a game set in this era and is keen to get Fang on board as a consultant, though the aesthetic mostly detracts from the setting in the jarring use of CGI. Heroine Mengyun (Gülnezer Bextiyar) performs what is intended to be an impressive Hun sword dance, but as the sword is CGI it has no sense of skill or danger. It aligns clumsily with her physical movements like that in a video game cutscene and has a disturbingly weightless quality. The same phenomenon also mars the film’s action scenes which sometimes have an odd quality as if CGI has also been used to impose an actor’s face on that of a stunt double or somehow alter their movements. 

Aside from that, there is some nice cinematography that captures the majesty of the Chinese landscape though even this is sometimes drowned out by the syrupy score which is again quite reminiscent of a video game. Supposedly a spiritual sequel to The Myth and Kung Fu Yoga, the central conceit of the film is that through a jade pendant found in the grave, Fang and his assistants become part of a collective dream which is a flashback to the distant past while it later transpires that they’re being manipulated by a malevolent force in the present who wants to rob China of its historical treasures by finding a secret sanctuary built by the Huns to store the gold statues they stole from the Hans to use as objects of worship. Accordingly, there’s some pointed commentary about how it’s illegal to steal or traffic historical artefacts which should be protected as symbols of China’s essential culture. It’s no coincidence that the villains have Western accents and begin speaking to each other in English as they wilfully blow up a newly discovered historical site.

The modern scenes do, however, have an awkward kind of comedy going on in the form of in jokes between Fang’s team such as the non-love story between assistants Xinran (Xiao Ran Peng) and the clueless Wang Jing (Lay Zhang Yixing) who completely misses all of her hints and seems to be unaware of the subtext of phrases such as “come in for coffee” or that “incredibly expensive bracelet would really suit me.” Chan also gets rescued from drowning by a family inexplicably ice fishing in this really remote place who take quite a long time to realise he’s not some kind of weird talking fish. Though Chan does get his own action sequence at the film’s conclusion, it’s fairly incongruous for a professor of archeology to possess these kinds of skills which are otherwise out of keeping with the fatherly, professorial character Chan plays up to that point even if there is a distinct hint of Indiana Jones in the instance that all of this should be a museum. The little boy who found the pendant even gets a pat on the head for reporting it to the authorities rather than trying to sell it or keep it for himself. Nevertheless, it speaks of something that the digressions into historical legend are often more interesting than the retelling of the legend itself which never really takes flight despite the flying arrows and charging horses of world in which the heroes can only dream of the supposedly peaceful and harmonious society that exists far in the future.

A Legend is released in the US on Digital, blu-ray, and DVD 21st January courtesy of Well Go USA.

Trailer (English subtitles)

Octopus with Broken Arms (误杀3, Jacky Gan Jianyu, 2024)

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It’s quite surprising, somehow, that Octopus with Broken Arms (误杀3, wùshā 3) gets away with as much as it does simply being another recent mainstream movie set in an unidentified South East Asian nation where, conveniently enough, almost everyone speaks Mandarin. The third in the Sheep Without a Shepherd series, it quite clearly takes aim at the tendency of authoritarian governments to cover things up and deny the public the truth in any situation. Ordinarily, the censor’s board wouldn’t like that pointed out, nor would it like implications of police violence and corruption though as this is all taking place in “Not Mainland China”, it seems to have passed them by.

Then again, by setting itself overseas the film also deflects the implications of its focus on child trafficking which is a huge and well documented problem on the Mainland though here it becomes something that only happens overseas. The closing title cards in English offer a series of statistics about missing children worldwide, but avoid mentioning the statistics in China where the One Child Policy contributed to a phenomenon of children being kidnapped from the cities to be raised on rural farms while the preference of sons often saw daughters otherwise sold off.

In any case, Bingrui (Xiao Yang) is an ethnic Chinese refugee raised in an orphanage who got a huge capital injection from a gangster after finding his missing child and turned it into an internationally successful cosmetics corporation. When his own daughter Tingting is kidnapped, he seems to know immediately that he’s not been targeted simply because he’s a wealthy man and suspects the involvement of Fu-an (Feng Bing), an old “friend” with whom he’d had “a few issues” who had approached him for money for his son’s heart transplant which he had given him. 

It doesn’t take long to figure out that Bingrui must have been involved in something untoward even if he’s now a devout Buddhist who’s just trying to be a good father having lost his wife in childbirth. Fed a series of clues to find his daughter, it’s clear he’s being led towards a kind of confrontation with his past along with a test of character. He may be able to say that he did the things he did because he had no other choice. If he had not joined the side of those acting against all common notions of humanity, he would simply have become one of their victims. But there is a choice involved all the same, and Bingrui chose survival through the sacrifice of other lives. 

The fact that the kidnapper lives streams much of the chase suggests they’re less interested in the money than truth and ultimately want Bingrui to blow the whistle on a vast conspiracy which otherwise can’t be investigated because it’s burrowed deep into the police force and perhaps beyond. As one of those working against him later says, there are too many secrets destined to remain so that should be brought out into the light. A newsreader, however, remarks on hearing about a possible cover up of the deliberate murder of a number of trafficked children passed off as “refugees”, that what he most fears is that the people have lost faith in their government. Nevertheless, there might be something quite subversive about the lengthy scenes of citizens expressing discontent with blatant lies from the authorities and openly begging for the truth given the famously tightlipped CCP’s usual approach to public information.

In any case, the more we learn about Bingrui the harder it is for us to sympathise with him and the film then becomes more about proper paternity and the willingness of a parent to surrender their own life for that of their child. The film takes its English title from an incredibly elaborate school play little Tingting is involved in at the beginning of the film about how Octopuses are all orphans because their parents abandon them soon after birth and then pass away. Bingrui wasn’t exactly an orphan, like many of the children he was kidnapped from a loving family, but became one and lost his sense of humanity in the process. The question is whether he will be able to abandon his instincts for self-preservation to save his daughter or if, in the end, he will choose to save himself just as he did when chose to join those who kidnapped him rather than become a victim. Like many similarly themed thrillers of recent years, the film is built around a series of outrageous twists many of which are startlingly obvious but in their way serve the shocking quality of those that aren’t. What’s truly shocking is the depth of this conspiracy which hints not just at children being stolen and sold to overseas adopters, but trafficked into sexual exploitation or for illegal organ harvesting. The barbarity knows no bounds, and while the actions of Tingting’s kidnappers are in themselves brutal it’s clear they have no other way to ensure the injustice they face will be addressed. Indignant but avoiding sentimentality, Jacky Gan Jianyu’s slickly designed B-movie thriller nevertheless ends on a note of karmic retribution that the “hero” may not have earned but does at least allow him to make good on his promise and symbolically atone for the all the pain and suffering his callousness self-interest has caused. 

Trailer (English subtitles)

Honey Money Phony (“骗骗”喜欢你, Su Biao, 2024)

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Can you really say a scammer who just takes people’s money without messing with their feelings is any better than one who just robs them? That’s a justification put forward by fraudster Ouyang (Sunny Sun) in Su Biao’s remake of Thai rom-com The Con-Heartist, but it’s a difficult one to swallow. After all, even if you just trick someone out of a small amount of cash,the psychological effects can be devastating though the pain may not be quite the same as getting your heart broken in a love scam.

Qinglang (Jin Chen) has indeed had her heart broken by the lothario Zijun (Wang Hao) whom she met at a tennis class she started going to after moving to the fictional city of Aoo Kang. Later it’s revealed that the cause of her move was getting fired from her company for reporting her boss for sexual harassment while she was also in a bit of debt from breaking a non-compete clause by getting another job, something which Zijun apparently sorted out for her. But not long after she took out a loan to give him money supposedly for his university tuition, Zijun ghosted her and she realised she’d been the victim of a romance scam. Now she’s on the hook for that too, working a series of part-time jobs in fast food restaurants and walking dogs as well as an unsuccessful gig as a vlogger in addition to her regular job in insurance. 

Experience is maybe why she suddenly thinks twice after being contacted by someone purporting to be from the vlogging site telling her she’s been suspended and needs to pay a fine. After getting Ouyang’s info from the bank she threatens to expose him but then makes a deal, if he helps her scam Zijun into giving back the money she gave him she won’t take this any further. Of course, there’s no guarantee Ouyang hasn’t just switched to a different con while Qinglang remains quite naive and despite herself trusting him. Then again, he’s the exact opposite of Zijun who took advantage of her despair and offered himself as a source of constant support. His aloofness and apparent honesty about what he is may in their way reassure her. 

There is something that might be comforting in Ouyan’s unflashiness. Though he drives a convertible, it’s not a particularly glamorous sort and has a busted taillight and in any case, he also lives in it. According to him, that’s so he can get away quickly if he needs to, but also suggests that it’s not really all about the money. Zijun, meanwhile, is greedy and materialistic, hopping from one wealthy woman to the next while hoping to join the social elite and live a high life of fast cars and wild parties. A justification for Ouyang’s scamming is given in a tragic backstory which may or may not be true suggesting that he was born out of wedlock and his mother died in childbirth. He was raised by his grandmother and uncle while his birth father entered his life at one point and tried to connect with him but it turned out it was all because his other son from a different relationship needed a bone marrow transplant. As soon as he found out Ouyang wasn’t a match, he disappeared from his life. 

The implication is that Ouyang scams as a kind of revenge because he doesn’t trust people and therefore is unable to live an ordinary, honest, life but through connecting with Qinglan and falling in love he develops the desire to live with more compassion and stability. Qinglang, meanwhile, gains confidence in herself and realises that her low self-esteem left her vulnerable to manipulation. Her friend, Xiaohui (Li Xueqin), who was also in massive debt and ended up posing as a blind person to carry out accident scams, also puts the skills she’s learned to good use to progress her acting career which might all be a very contradictory message even if there’s something satisfying about scamming a scammer and especially one as full of himself as Zijun. Released for Western New Year, the film has a zany wholesomeness despite its bleak subject matter and hints at a sense of despair in contemporary life in China but does indeed suggest that cheaters don’t necessarily need to prosper and you do have a degree of control over your life even if it’s just deciding to choose love and move on rather than wallow in a sense of futility. 

International trailer (English subtitles)

King Boxer (天下第一拳, Jeong Chang-hwa, 1972)

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Legend has it that Shaw Brothers’ main motivation in making King Boxer (天下第一拳) was retaliation against Golden Harvest who’d managed to sign Bruce Lee after he turned them down because they offered him the standard studio contract which was at the very least unattractive. Until that point, the studio had mainly been making wuxia pictures and musicals, but had begun to shift towards unarmed combat with the success of The Chinese Boxer in 1970. 

Released internationally under the title Five Fingers of Death, the film kickstarted the 1970s kung fu craze with its vast success in America and helped to solidify a new genre that was then only just being formed through the use of the trampoline technique pioneered by wuxia master King Hu along with his fast cuts and a surprisingly gory take on violence even having the floor shift and give off puffs of dust for added realism. Otherwise it weaves a fairly standard tale of warring schools each vying to win a top contest which confers on the winner the right to control five territories in the north, though this is not of course the goal of the righteous contenders who desire neither fame nor fortune only to improve their skills. The earnest Zhihao (Lo Lieh) just wants to stay with his master and adopted father, Song (Ku Wen-Chung), with whose daughter Ying-ying (Wang Ping) he has also fallen in love, but when and former pupil Daming (Jin Bong-Jin) returns after training with Master Sun and Song is attacked by bandits which leaves him feeling past his best, he decides Zhihao should be sent away too until he wins the contest and returns to take over the school. 

Meanwhile, the evil Meng (Tien Feng) is scheming to have his son Tianxiong (Tung Lam), who lacks martial arts talent, win the contest so that they can control the territory and oppress everybody in its domain. Meng is fond of talking about honour and the martial arts spirit, but actually plans to win the competition by cheating which is why he had his goons attack Master Song. He plans to take out his rivals ahead of time so Tianxiong will have a clear path to victory. 

Zhihao, however, is floundering, forced to toil in Sun’s kitchen’s for a year training through practical means before even being accepted as pupil. Sun’s top student, Han Long (Nam Seok-hoon), appears to take an instant dislike of him that may just be down to his insecurity and fear of competition but eventually becomes a source of weakness in the Sun school. It’s clear that Han resents Zhihao for stealing the place he feels to have been his by right, especially on learning that Sun has given him the manual for the Iron Palm technique, and is even more annoyed when he runs into singer Yan who asks him about Zhihao though he is obviously interested in her himself. This romantic rivalry seems to further undermine his sense of masculinity and causes him to betray everything he stands for as a martial artist by cutting a deal with Meng in the hope he’ll get rid of Zhihao so he can take his place in the contest even if doing so likely means he’ll have to lose to Tianxiong. 

The romantic subplot has a gentle poignancy as we obviously know that Yan will never end up with Zhihao because he is in love with Ying-ying while Yan also tries to convince him to leave the martial arts world which is something that just isn’t going to happen. In any case, Zhihao remains committed to opposing injustice, facing off against Meng and battling the three karate masters he’s imported from Japan to do his dirty his work as well as the ace up his sleeve, wandering fighter Chen Lang (Kim Ki-Joo) who eventually begins to realise he’s chosen the wrong side on witnessing Meng’s ruthlessness which breaks every rule in the martial arts book. 

Korean director Jeong Chang-hwa, however, slightly wrong foots us denying Zhihao his vengeance against Meng while Han takes him on instead as an act of redemption though he too is eventually denied. This not quite final fight is among the most impressive in the film, fought in near darkness as Han has by this point lost his sight. Zhihao meanwhile takes on Okada (Chao Hsiung), the karate master, demonstrating his “Iron Palm” technique which Jeong lends an eerie supernatural quality through the use of red lighting and the sting of synths. Though the plot plays out like a western, Jeong’s aesthetics otherwise strongly recall the colour of Nikkatsu youth drama of the earlier 1960s most especially in his colour palette and lighting. Unfortunately this would be the last film he made for Shaw Brothers after apparently becoming fed up with Mona Fong’s cost cutting and jumping ship to Golden Harvest where he stayed for the rest of his career, but he did help to create a genre of kung fu cinema and popularise it all over the world.

Her Story (好东西, Shao Yihui, 2024)

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Nine-year-old Molly (Zeng Mumei) says she doesn’t have any dreams anymore and is content to remain a member of the audience which is the role she’s been assigned as part of orchestra class. In truth, that might be something she’s picked up from her mother, Tiemei (Song Jia), who also says that she no longer has dreams because she’s seen the reality. Shao Yihui’s Her Story (好东西, is being hailed as something of a landmark film given that mainstream Chinese cinema does not often engage with feminist issues or at least not quite so directly as in this strangely joyful celebration of female solidarity and found family.

Indeed, the Chinese title of the film is “good things” which Tiemei and Molly begin to find after being forced to move to a cheaper apartment in an old-fashioned walk-up building because Tiemei is struggling to find work in a shrinking journalism industry. She later tells a colleague at her new job working for a friend’s online news outlet that she took a break from her career as an investigative reporter not because she had her daughter but because she realised she didn’t have the strength to go on fighting the system. 

Yet in a way she’s fighting the system solely in the way she lives as a divorced woman raising her daughter alone. It later transpires that it was her husband who wanted the divorce because he got fed up with living with as househusband even though that was his choice, though he seems to regret the decision and randomly tells Tiemei that he’s getting a vasectomy as some kind of strange proof of loyalty in insisting Molly will be his only child. Since they’ve split up, he’s apparently come to a feminist awakening and is cognisant of his male privilege thanks to actually reading Tiemei’s articles but ironically still feels the need to insert himself into conversation. 

In any case, after moving into the apartment, Tiemei and Molly become friends with the bohemian woman who lives upstairs and is the singer of a rock band. Ye (Zhong Chuxi) is a very chaotic presence and the total opposite of Tiemei’s defiant practicality, but despite herself Tiemei becomes a kind of maternal figure to her after scaring off a creepy guy who was following her late at night. But equally Ye becomes a kind of big sister or secondary maternal figure to Molly, offering her a more relaxed vision of womanhood along with a creative space to express herself. 

Perhaps surprisingly for a mainstream Chinese film in which LGBTQ+ themes, the two women effectively end up raising this child together almost as if they were a couple in a happy familial environment. They often share a bed and at one point are actually mistaken for lesbians by Ye’s sometime optometrist boyfriend Hu to whom she lied about having a child so that he wouldn’t see her as clingy, effectively adopting Tiemei’s persona. Tiemei even helps Ye sort of break up with him by posing as the scorned lesbian partner, hilariously laying it on thick to get Hu to trip himself up and admit to being a playboy womaniser. Though it’s obviously true that they are not in fact romantically involved, the film nevertheless does not only acknowledge the existence of lesbian women and even lesbian women raising children but tacitly approves and accepts them as part of its broader feminist themes. It even opens on a shot of what appears to be queer longing in lingering on a very striking Ye leaning out of her window drinking in the daytime as Molly looks up from below in wonder. 

It is in fact Molly who becomes the centre of the film as she regains the ability to have dreams again while discovering herself and gaining the courage to take risks in search of happiness in a society all too keen to slap women down. Tiemei writes an article about what it’s really like to be a working single mother but is quickly attacked by internet trolls causing Molly to retreat into herself, realising that if her mother hadn’t written the article she wouldn’t be getting trolled. But thanks to the supportive environment around her and the relationship between Teimei and Ye, Molly resolves not to let the world beat her into submission. The scenes of her rocking out on her drums while the drippy boy who keeps “denouncing” her at school flounders at the dull music club concert speaks volumes. She may realise that she prefers being in the audience anyway, but that’s alright. Writing is her outlet, something else she may have have picked up from her mother, and she’s less of a bystander than observer humorously recording the compromises and contradictions of the world around her while bolstered by her found family and a gentle sense of female solidarity.

Original trailer (English subtitles)

Moneyboys (金錢男孩, C.B. Yi, 2021)

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“Who doesn’t sell themselves to make money?” a young man asks in C.B. Yi’s melancholy mainland-set drama Moneyboys (金錢男孩, Jīnqián Nánhái) relating the story of a relative who worked as a tanner all his life, became ill from the effects of the chemicals, and died alone far from home. He may suggest that the exploitative nature of contemporary capitalism will eventually consume you, but it’s an older set of social codes that do for Fei (Kai Ko) who consumes himself in a pathological desire for self-sacrifice as if constantly trying to prove himself worthy of acceptance.

As we first meet Fei he introduces himself as “Jackson”, a naive country boy in the city seeking a means to support his struggling rural family which he finds in sex work. Through his job, he encounters the swaggering Xiaolai (JC Lin) who introduces himself as “Max” and takes him under his wing. Soon they fall head over heels in love, but Xiaolai fears Fei’s desperation and lack of judgment in his choice of client, an anxiety which is later borne out when Fei is badly beaten by a local gangster. Filled with rage, Xiaolai attacks him with a metal bar but ends up badly beaten himself and thereafter sought by the police. Not wanting any trouble, Fei skips town and five years later has started a new, apparently much more successful life, in another city. 

“You’re always living for others” he’s later told by a childhood friend, Long (Bai Yufan), whose long-term crush on him Fei seems to be wilfully ignoring, “the way you sacrifice yourself, you constantly hurt yourself and sometimes others too”. Fei’s self-sacrificing nature does indeed seem to have a masochist component as he wilfully puts himself in dangerous situations to get money to provide for his family. His family, however, reject him precisely because of the nature of the sacrifices he is making. Returning to his home town after being unjustly hassled by local police who attempt to entrap him by getting an undercover officer to pose as a client and searching his home for drugs, Fei is physically attacked by a belligerent uncle who can’t stop ranting about Fei’s marital status beginning by berating him that his family is embarrassed because he has no wife before revealing that they all know about “what you did in the city” and are shamed by it. His father barely looks at him, though his sister appears to know and encourages him to find the right person and hold on to them because life is long and she doesn’t want him to be lonely. 

Later, another woman reassures him that he is “someone who deserves love” though he struggles to accept it. He feels indebted to Xiaolai because he lost a leg for him, unable to move past the transactional nature of love to accept it from someone who wants only the same in return. Consumed by internalised shame he struggles to let go of outdated traditional social codes and unlike Long is unwilling to abandon them in order to live the life he wants. One of his sex worker friends in his new city eventually enters into a sham marriage with a woman who is fully aware of the realities and later pledges to move back to the country and raise a child as a conventional husband and father while tearfully explaining that six years with the gay community have been the best of his life. He too has made a sacrifice of himself for his family but is already torn apart with disappointment and resentment. 

Fei’s tragedy is that he tries to please everyone but himself, revelling in his self-sacrificing suffering and barely noticing when others are caught in the crossfire. Unable to let himself go, he is left only with the memory of the one time he was happy, which wasn’t the one he originally thought it was, and the simultaneous knowledge that he has lost It forever through his own thoughtlessness. Trapped in the past both by the traditional social codes and his thwarted romance with Xiaolai he envisions an ironically progressive compromise but is unable to see the selfishness in his desires perhaps for once putting himself first in failing to consider the feelings of those around him. A neon-lit vista of loneliness, C.B Yi’s melancholy tale of self-imprisonment and the commodification of love discovers only unhappiness in the midst of a repressive social culture defined by the twin poles of rampant consumerism and the filial imperative. 

Trailer (English subtitles)

Love After Love (第一炉香, Ann Hui, 2020)

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A naive young woman’s path from besotted teen to tortured yet masterful courtesan amid the colonial realities of pre-war Hong Kong is elegantly charted in Ann Hui’s stately adaptation of the novel by Eileen Chang, Love After Love (第一炉香, Dì yī lú xiāng). A slow-burn romantic tragedy, Hui’s floating drama at once reflects a sense of hopeless rootlessness and the ruinous intensity of a one-sided love but also the transgressive possibilities for freedom and independence in the rejection of traditional patriarchal social codes. 

Displaced from her native Shanghai by ongoing political tension, Weilong (Ma Sichun), the daughter of a once noble house, finds herself impoverished and left with the choice either of accompanying her family in returning to the Mainland where she will be set back a year in completing her studies or remaining behind alone in Hong Kong to graduate high school. Unable to support herself, she decides to turn to an estranged aunt she barely knows, throwing herself on her mercy and asking to be taken in even while knowing of the animosity which exists between her father and his sister. That would be because her aunt, Madame Liang (Faye Yu), turned down all the suitors her family found for her and chose instead to become the mistress of a wealthy man. He now having died, Madame Liang has inherited a sizeable fortune including a European-style mansion where she hosts society parties and enjoys a hedonistic lifestyle which has earned her a reputation as a seducer of young men. 

On her introduction to this world, one of the maids uncharitably describes Weilong’s entrance as like that of a new girl in a brothel and there is indeed something of that in her new role in the household, dangled like a bauble in front of Madame Liang’s collection of wealthy male associates, though Madame Liang apparently intends her only as decoration rather than gift. Tensions come to the fore as Weilong develops a fondness for a dashing young man, George (Edward Peng Yu-Yan), the mixed ethnicity son of coterie member Sir Cheng (Paul Chun), previously eyed by Madame Liang who understands much better than her naive niece that men like George are dangerous in their destabilising faithlessness. For Madame Liang, so perfectly in control, George may be manageable but as she later tells Weilong, unwisely goading her that her life of comfort is a failure because she will never find love, the only danger that exists to her is in unequal affection a prophecy that will in a sense come to pass in Weilong’s single-minded obsession to possess the heart of George. 

Weilong may describe Madame Liang’s lifestyle as ridiculous, yet as she points out her transgressive sexuality is also currency that permits the opulence and luxury in which she lives. Seduced by this world as much as by George, Weilong disapproves but admits that she is no longer the naive girl who arrived even if she also dislikes this new version of herself, considering a return to Shanghai and a possible reset to become someone else again presumably more in line with contemporary notions of social proprietary. She can’t deny that Madame Liang’s rejection of the patriarchal institution of marriage has granted her an unusual degree of independence otherwise unavailable in the contemporary society. She herself faces a choice in approaching the end of her high school days, either progressing to higher education, seeking work, or getting married naively insisting to Madame Liang that she will earn money in order to support George and his lavish lifestyle even as she advises her to enact a plot of romance as revenge. 

While Weilong’s discarded suitor benefits financially in becoming Madame Liang’s lover, she sponsoring his study abroad, Weilong again attempts to reverse traditional gender roles by trapping George as a kind of trophy husband. He had repeatedly told her he wasn’t the marrying kind, in part because of his insatiable sexual desire and perpetual loneliness in having lost his mother young, yet also because of his father’s perfectly acceptable yet socially destructive romantic history which includes several concubines and illegitimate children meaning there will be little in the way of inheritance. If he married, he’d need to marry well but Weilong’s family is impoverished and she has only her connection with Madame Liang to leverage. As she’d warned her it would be, the relationship between them will always be unhappy, Weilong winning a symbolic victory in coercing George towards marriage but unable to accept the limits of her control while he, paradoxically, is emotionally honest only with her but she can only see this as a slight as if he is so indifferent towards her that she is not worth lying to. 

As Weilong gradually morphs into her aunt, George’s sexually liberated sister Kitty lands on a different path later becoming a nun. The three women attempt to muster all of the advantages afforded to them under an oppressive patriarchal system but none perhaps find true happiness. It might be tempting to read a subversive comment on the nature of colonialism in the various frustrated love affairs and persistent sense of rootlessness, Hui’s drama is at heart a romantic tragedy in which two people become locked in a torturous relationship because they cannot understand each other. Their very idea of love is different. Doyle’s floating camera perfectly captures the fleeting opulence of this unreal society itself lingering on an abyss as the lovers continue to dance around each other looking perhaps for the love after love in immaterial comfort. 

Trailer (English subtitles)

The Tai Chi Master (张三丰, Lin Zhenzhao & Cheng Siyu, 2022)

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The funny thing is that, in contrast to contemporary Chinese cinema, Lin Zhenzhao & Cheng Siyu’s The Tai Chi Master casts those who stand up to corruption as the villains. Of course, their insurrection threatens the social order and their subsequent to overthrow the Song Dynasty may be too revolutionary to find much a approval but it’s surprising all the same even if the film also finds fault with officials too focused on the “big picture” rather than the citizens in the townships they’re supposed to be overseeing.

In any case, though it should not be confused with the Jet Li film from 1993 with which it shares both English and Chinese titles, this Tai Chi Master is once again an origin story for the renowned Taoist scholar Zhang Sanfeng which is the name the hero takes at the film’s conclusion having achieved a degree of enlightenment through experiencing near death and tragedy at the hands of the Netherworld Cult. For the most part, he goes by his courtesy name Junbao and is something of a libertine, spending most of his time enjoying fine liquor and trying to craft immortality pills as a member of the Wuji Sect. 12 years previously when the Imperial Court increased taxes to a unreasonable degree, the Netherworld Cult slaughtered the corrupt officials but were condemned by the rest of society for their actions. Junbao has a habit of drinking with Kui Tianxing, the former head of the Netherworld Cult who has been imprisoned in the Wuji’s Sect’s gloomy basement for the last 12 years and in fact transgressively learns from him “evil” techniques claiming that there is no good or bad in martial arts for all depends on the righteous heart of the practitioner.

But there is unrest brewing and it seems some can no longer bear the corruption and indifference of the noblemen supposedly managing their interests on behalf of the court. After taking a liking to a mysterious forest woman who rides a giant silkworm she charms with a flute, Junbao is taken to task for his solipsistic hedonism. She asks him how he can ignore suffering in the world and continue to remain apart from it, but he doesn’t truly gain the desire to oppose injustice until the Wuji Sect is targeted and his master is killed. Even then, his opposition is awkwardly positioned given that the new Netherworld Cult is also motivated by the desire to throw off the authority of corrupt officials, which means in a sense that Junbao is defending that same corrupt social order which he does not otherwise challenge.

In keeping with the teachings of the real Sanfeng, he instead preaches righteousness and harmony but otherwise removes himself from the martial arts and wider worlds, while his brief romance with the mysterious silkworm woman seems to fall by the wayside in his ongoing quest for spiritual enlightenment. Meanwhile, it has to be said that his relationship with the little girl who seems to be in his care is a little uncomfortable at times. In what is presumably supposed to be a sweet and innocent piece of childish banter, she frequently flirts with him, makes statements about becoming his girlfriend, and expresses jealousy towards the silkworm woman all of which seems very inappropriate for a child of no more than 11 or 12.

Nevertheless, the fight choreography is often interesting if sometimes marred by imperfect CGI and mid-level production values for a streaming film. The injection of fantasy-style lore with its demons and underground, cave-like bases gives the film’s internal universe a degree of consistency in reflecting the yin/yang philosophy espoused by the Netherworld Cult in the white-clad, surface-living Wuji Clan and the dark, anarchic world of the often masked rebels. The mysterious silkworm and the flute-playing woman meanwhile seem to occupy a liminal space caught between each world and whatever she says like Junbao not really a part of either until pulled into the final battle. Perhaps troubling or at times contradictory in some of its implications, the film does at least have a degree of charm in its likeable characters and fleshed-out backstories that hint at the possibilities of an ongoing franchise.

The Tai Chi Master is available digitally in the US courtesy of Well Go USA.

Trailer