Tape (錄影歹, Bizhan M. Tong, 2024)

Up-and-coming filmmaker Jon (Kenny Kwan) says he wants to make real films that address social issues within Hong Kong, but his old high school buddy, Wing (Adam Pak), calls him pretentious, while the two continue to lay into each other about their respective life choices, But as it turns out, that isn’t why they’re here. Wing has laid a trap for Jon and is hoping he can force him into telling him once and for all what really happened on the night of their high school graduation 15 years previously so he can capture it on the various cameras he has hidden around the apartment.

Of course, what we have here is an ironic comment on the notion of consent as Jon has no idea he is being filmed and would not have said what he said if he did. Still, the question remains what the impact of the tape, Jon’s own words condemning him, has on his later actions. Would he ever really have reckoned with himself if his confession remained private, or would he have gone on forgetting it, justifying himself, claiming that it wasn’t “rape” just “a bit rough” and everyone does things they’re not proud when they’re young and drunk?

On the other hand, what are Wing’s intentions? Does he really have the right to force the issue or is he merely poking his finger into someone else’s wound and potentially hurting them in the process. Admittedly an unreliable narrator, Wing tells us that his girlfriend Winky broke up with him because of his “violent tendencies,” yet it’s Jon, the respectable filmmaker in expensive shoes, who starts throwing punches and tries to strangle Wing while demanding that he give him the video in which he admits that what he did to Wing’s girlfriend Amy (Selena Lee) amounts to rape. Wing suggests that he’s sick of the hypocrisy and outraged on Amy’s behalf, but his actions are motivated more by jealousy and resentment that Jon slept with his former girlfriend than concern for her. He convinces himself that it must have been rape because otherwise he can’t understand why Amy would have slept with Jon when she refused to sleep with him the entire time they were dating. 

To that extent, Amy becomes a kind of wager between the men. Wing invites her over to engineer a confrontation that is intended more as a provocation of Jon than it is a defence of his former girlfriend. Amy, however, immediately tries to turn the tables by rejecting the characterisation of events put forward by each of the men. Now a prosecutor who unlike Jon and Wing has remained in Hong Kong, Amy forensically questions Jon’s testimony and forces him to admit that he believes what happened between them was rape only for her to refuse his apology because she doesn’t agree. She refuses to be his victim, while he continues to dominate her by disregarding what she says and insisting that she’s in denial and “not in the right place” to hear his apology. 

Later Amy says that back then Jon had his hand over her mouth, and it’s true enough that the men each attempt to prevent her speaking and are unwilling to accept what she has to say. As she tells them, an apology is about the person who issues it’s desire for permission to let themselves off the hook. To her it’s meaningless, while it’s almost certain that Jon would never have even given it if it weren’t for the tape which could ruin his career and his marriage. “You want the last word, but it’s not yours to have,” she pointedly tells him while he struggles to accept the lack of control he has over this situation and indeed over Amy. She tells him that she was in love with him at the time which gave him power over her which he misused when he had no real feelings for her and may have just been trying to get back at Wing, just as Wing’s weaponising of whatever happened that day is about his relationship with Jon rather than her pain or trauma. Though he tries to weasel his way out of it and is confused by the realisation, Wing is also bent on asserting patriarchal control over Amy in feeling entitled to her virginity and annoyed that Jon “took” it, even as Amy points out that in any case they were no longer dating at the time and it’s really none of his business who she sleeps with because it’s entirely her own decision. 

But then again, she asks him if he’d marry a “rape victim”, and he doesn’t have an answer for her hinting at the societal stigmas in play along with her own desire not to see herself as one. Jon doesn’t want to see himself as a rapist either, continuing to insist that he’s a good person and, in any case, not the same as he was 15 years ago but now much more aware of women’s rights and position in society. Wing may just not want to see himself as a loser, aware that he’s living a life that looks unsuccessful as a lifeguard in Thailand making ends meet by peddling drugs to teenagers and trying to reclaim his masculinity by proving that Jon cheated him by assaulting Amy. Yet in updating Richard Linklater’s 2001 original, Tong really makes this about two tapes, the one from 15 years previously and the one Wing shoots in the present day which is immediately synced to the cloud. In revisiting the past, we gain a new perspective as the young Amy is given the opportunity to speak and unwittingly remarks on how she thinks of the past as something that can never really be destroyed but must dragged along in a box behind you that you occasionally peek into. Nevertheless, she may have succeeded in blowing it wide open in reclaiming her agency from the continually self-involved Jon and Wing.


Tape screened as part of this year’s Raindance Film Festival.

Trailer

Valley of the Shadow of Death (不赦之罪, Lam Sen & Antonio Tam Sin-yeung, 2024)

A pastor’s faith is tested when a young man who was involved with the death of his teenage daughter arrives at his church in search of salvation in Lam Sen & Antonio Tam Sin-yeung’s In Valley of the Shadow of Death (不赦之罪). Though his faith tells him that he must forgive and that it is his duty to help this lost young man who has no one else, it is obviously incredibly difficult for him to reconcile his Christian philosophy with the reality of his guilt and anger.

It’s this contradiction that’s at the heart of the film in examining whether Pastor Leung (Anthony Wong Chau-sang) is merely a hypocrite who expounds on “the beauty of suffering,” while wallowing in his grief and fundamentally unable to put what he preaches into practice. But the problem is it’s Leung’s religiously that’s a part of the problem in that its oppressive qualities and implacable rigidity also contributed to his daughter’s death. It’s convenient for him to shift all of the blame onto Lok (George Au) because it means he doesn’t have to think about the impact of his own choices or indeed question his faith in God as his wife (Louisa So Yuk-Wah) has done. 

Mrs Leung also seems to blame her husband on some level and the relationship between the pair has become frosty in the extreme. A reporter arrives to interview Leung about his work while Mrs Leung goes out of her way to make as much noise as possible as she leaves for work. She has since lost her faith, unable to understand why God would do this to them, while Leung regards Lok’s arrival, like many things, as a test yet already knowing he has been found wanting. He does his best to force himself to treat Lok with kindness, but in the end, if God really did intend to give him a son in place of a daughter, Leung cannot accept him.

But Lok looks to Leung as a more literal kind of father anyway. He is genuinely moved by Christianity and sees something in it that he equates with salvation, but at the same time perhaps only because he thinks it will confer “forgiveness”. His problem is also that he doesn’t seem to understand what was wrong about what he did despite completing his prison sentence and assumed that everything would be fine once he repaid his debt to society. Only on learning that Ching is dead does he begin to feel guilty and understand the full impact of his actions. On his release he’d tried to contact Ching on a messenger app though it’s not quite clear for what purpose. Even if he really did want to apologise or try to make a mends, it’s a selfish thing to do given that she almost certainly would not want to ever hear from him again and his resurfacing in her life would only cause her further pain. 

In any case, the film uncomfortably muddies the waters in implying that Ching herself is also responsible for what happened to her, while Leung never really reckons with the new information he’s learned about his daughter who may not have been as sweet and innocent as he’d assumed her to be. Likewise, the fact that Lok had such a difficult life encourages us to sympathise with him and minimise his crime, but he made a clear choice to what he did and is also responsible for it. As Leung is fond of saying, everyone is a sinner, though he doesn’t always seem to accept the same about himself. Lok too maybe entitled to redemption, and helping him may be a way for Leung to make sense of his daughter’s death while atoning for his part in it, but if it’s a test from God it’s one he’s struggling with and largely beyond the limits of his faith. In truth, some of the ideological questioning seems confused or contradictory, more like a thought experiment than a real situation and Lok a hypothetical rather than a lost young man who’s done something unspeakable but still doesn’t really understand why it was wrong. Obsessed with the concept of “forgiveness”, he childishly thinks that winning it would annul his crime as if it didn’t happen in same the way that baptism washes away sin. Leung, meanwhile, cannot practice what he preaches and uses his religion, the very thing that made him fail his daughter, as a shield to avoid thinking about his own culpability. Only God can forgive, Leung’s fond of saying, but the person he needs forgiveness from the most may be himself. 


Valley of the Shadow of Death screened as part of this year’s Focus Hong Kong.

Trailer

It Remains (釀魂, Kelvin Shum, 2023)

Grief-stricken souls find themselves trapped in a hazy dreamworld of haunting guilt and vengeful spirits in Kelvin Shum’s eerie supernatural horror, It Remains (釀魂). Shum’s second feature following noirish psychological thriller Deliverance delves into the realms of classic ghost movies but discovers its heroes mainly haunted by the unresolved past. “We’re all afraid of facing reality,” heartbroken waiter Finn (Anson Lo) finally accepts though perhaps still lacking resolve to move on from his tragedy.

That would be the death in a car accident of his girlfriend of five years, Ava (Summer Chan). Finn was supposed to meet her for an anniversary dinner but got busy with work and left her sitting alone at which point she left and had a collision with fate. Unable to forgive himself, Finn has taken to drinking and is in a grief-stricken stupor. In an attempt to cheer him up, his friends from the restaurant where he works, chef Luke (Tommy Chu Pak-Hong), waiter Liam (Ng Siu-Hin), and Cora (Kwok Tsui-Yee) from front of house, are taking him camping only the location Liam has chosen turns out to be a little different than expected. Fetching up on a remote island where the boats only run every few days, the gang find themselves wandering through an eerie, seemingly abandoned village where it seems a wedding was once taking place.

As might be expected, they don’t really want to hang around to find out what happened here and are in any case told to leave in no uncertain terms by a mysterious woman and an angry old man who say this village is closed off to insiders. But with no way off the island they have little choice other than to hole up in an abandoned house and try to make the best of the situation. That becomes admittedly difficult when they start experiencing strange visions and are pulled back towards their own unresolved, internalised grief.

It seems Finn wasn’t the only one struggling to let go of the past and whatever evil lurks here quickly latches on to the buried anxieties of each of the group attempting to manipulate them to unleash a pent up spirit sealed away for good reason. Though clues scattered around the abandoned village point to something further in the past and indeed more ancient, it appears this particular moment of trauma occurred this century even if the darkness that surrounds it is older and apparently imparted by a passing Tibetan monk. Someone here also could not face reality and has been caught in another kind of limbo trapped alone and unable to resolve their pain.

The film’s Chinese title means something like “wine ghost” which is in its way ironic seeing as the main coping mechanism employed not just by Finn is alcohol, while the evil spirit itself is bound in a wine jar. This is however one jar it’s best not to open and a series a ghosts that should not be unleashed, despite the well honed logic that sealing the spirit is not really enough to keep it from ruining your life. Finn and the others are too afraid to face reality in knowledge that it may consume them and so remain trapped in the past though they may have been right to fear that in the end they would not be able to resolve their grief if they opened the jar and attempted to deal with it.

Swapping the noirish urbanity of his previous film for the eeriness of nature found in misty forests and forbidding signs of human absence, Shum conjures an atmosphere of spiritual dread in which each of the protagonists is plunged into their own kind of hell and forced to confront the unresolved past. Hoping to deal with at least one ghost, Cora performs a Taoist ritual but ends up summoning more spirits than intended and opening the door to something that none of them are able to control. There’s more than one way to quell a ghost, but the desire not to may be equally strong and for some moving on may not be what they actually want. Facing reality is to accept it, but it’s difficult to say if that represents liberation or constraint or if the only way to deal with a wandering ghost is to join it in eternal suffering.


It Remains opens in UK cinemas on 3rd November courtesy of CineAsia.

UK trailer (English subtitles)

Deliverance (源生罪, Kelvin Shum, 2022)

A young woman haunted by the buried memories of repressed trauma discovers that sometimes it really is better not to know but also comes to a new appreciation of familial love in Kelvin Shum’s visually striking psychological chiller, Deliverance (源生罪). Meaning something more like original sin the Chinese title hints at the reconsideration of the traditional family which lies under the central mystery and prompts the heroine, long separated from her siblings, to question the nature of her familial bonds and whether she can really say that those closest to her have her best interests at heart. 

After living abroad for 15 years, Nicole (Summer Chan) has married and returned home to Hong Kong with her husband but is haunted by a shadowy figure that reminds her of her childhood trauma in being unable to remember anything about the night her mother passed away after a long illness. Back in a familiar environment and reconnecting with her siblings, old memories begin to surface particularly after a few sessions with her famous hypnotist brother, Joseph (Simon Yam). Gradually she begins to suspect that her mother may not have died of her illness as she was led to believe but may have been murdered and possibly by a member of her immediate family which was then under intense pressure from loansharks due to debts run up by her absent father who ran away and abandoned the family to their fate. 

The theme of abandonment continues to resonate, Nicole insecure in her familial relationships as her brothers sent her abroad to study shortly after their mother’s death. She can’t escape the idea that they are keeping something from her, and is quite literally haunted by her inability to remember what happened on the night her mother died. But as Joseph had said during one of his lectures, memory is a treacherous thing and if you don’t remember something perhaps that’s because it’s better not to. Then again as her brother Will adds, it’s impossible to escape your past and someday you will be expected to answer for it whether you remember it or not. 

Nicole’s insistence on knowing the truth may partly be motivated by the fact that she is shortly to become a mother herself, though Joseph tries to convince her that her eerie visions and increasing paranoia are side effects of her pregnancy. Trust is the foundation of relationships, and Nicole is beginning to feel as if she can’t trust anyone anymore, but nor can she trust her memories many of which are influenced by her brother’s hypnotism. Working as a doctor she is touched by the relationship between an elderly couple who remain devoted to each other as the husband (Kenneth Tsang) contends with terminal cancer, but is also struck by the discord between their children who argue loudly in the corridor about the responsibilities of care and the financial burden of their father’s medical treatment. 

The understanding she begins to come to is that all of these reactions can in fact come from a place of love even if it doesn’t really seem like it on the surface. Whatever happened to her mother it may be no different, and if her family are indeed keeping something from her it may be out of a desire to protect her from the truth however misguided a desire that may be. As Joseph had said in his speech, emotions can take lives but they can also save them, though it appears the pain of not knowing is eating away at Nicole’s soul and only the truth can set her free. Mr Lam, the terminal cancer patient, cheerfully explains that all of life is a journey towards death but only to emphasise that it’s how you use the time that’s important so obsessing over the past might not serve you so well in the end. In any case, the journey into her own psyche may be uncomfortable and reveal truths that are painful but allows Nicole to begin overcoming her trauma while repairing her existing familial bonds before beginning new ones. Shot with noirish visual flair featuring high contrast colour and a dreamlike eeriness in Nicole’s ever present haunting, Shum’s psychological mystery suggests orphaned files must be brought back into the fold and that there can be no healing without truth but also that the expression of love can take many forms not all of which are easily understood. 


Deliverance had its World Premiere as part of the 15th season of Asian Pop-Up Cinema.

Trailer (dialogue free)