Mudborn (泥娃娃, Shieh Meng-ju, 2025)

Poor old Hsu-Chuan is stuck making a scary VR horror game based on a grisly real-life crime, while his own wholesome proposal to create one about spending time with your family gets shuts down for having no clear path to monetisation. There is, however, something a little bit ironic in Hsu-Chuan’s abstraction in creating a separate space to share with those close to him rather just going home and spending time with them instead.

In fact, Hsu-Chuan (Tony Yang) is often physically separated from his heavily pregnant wife whom he somewhat creepily watches through a surveillance camera so he can “keep her company”. He does seem to want to play the role of a good father, constantly fussing over a doll as a way of training himself to look after their baby, but at the same time his wife Mu-Hua (Cecilia Choi Sze-wan) is irritated when he says he’s taking parental leave to “keep them company,” rather than spend time with them together as a family and contribute equally to raising this child. It’s as if Hsu-Chuan sees himself as separate from the main family unit, more like a helpful guest than a devoted father. Then again, his boss tells him he was much the same. When his wife was pregnant, he’d “relax” by doing overtime at the office. When he got home, his wife cried and pointed out she had someone living inside her and it would be nice if they could face this together, as a family.

After all, pregnancy itself is a kind of possession. At the end of the day, the men can go off and escape their responsibilities if they want to, but the woman can’t separate herself from the child inside her. When Hsu-Chuan unwittingly brings the haunted doll from the murder scene home, he implants it in the womb of their domestic space where Mu-hua cares for it by restoring it like one of her statues. But what neither of them know is that the doll was made with grave soil and baked with maternal grief, so it contains the vengeful souls of those buried nearby. Another sculptor, Liu Hsin (Tracy Chou Tsai-shih), used grave soil precisely because she believed that all return to the earth in the end and so it contains the remnants of those now gone.

But perhaps there’s something not quite right about using the echoes of the dead without their consent. Liu Hsin may have known that, which is why she put esoteric talismans on her creations to seal in whatever might be in there. The same could be said of the game Hsu-chuan’s company is making. Is it really alright to exploit a horrific real life crime for entertainment? An employee takes an acquaintance to scan the still abandoned crime scene, capturing the eerie atmosphere along with everything the murdered family left behind. It wouldn’t be surprising if they picked up a ghost or two, and probably they should have listened when a mysterious voice told them to put that doll back where it came from.

To that extent, Hsu-chuan becomes a kind of mirror for Liu Hsin carrying around an actual doll meant for children that’s supposed to represent his unborn child. Its possessive qualities might also echo his paternal anxiety and the fear that this baby will take his wife away from him. For her part, Mu-hua has apparently decided to give up on a cherished opportunity to work on a restoration project in Rome because she doesn’t want to miss her baby growing up, but Hsu-Chuan still only wants to keep them company while making his VR family space instead as if they lived in a fantasy land he could enter and leave at will. Perhaps ironically, the doll will turn him into an inverse mother, carrying the spirit inside himself though unable to birth it. He demonstrates his commitment to his family by sacrificing himself to protect it, removing himself from the family unit and exiling himself to his own other space as an AI avatar in his VR world. Teaming up with an esoteric Taoist priest who seems like he has an ulterior motive in wanting to unlock the secret of these unusual talismans, Hsu-Chuan is, in effect, another ghost, haunting his family home rather than inhabiting it “together as a family” and only ever hanging out to keep them company.


Mudborn screens in Chicago March 21st as part of the 20th edition of Asian Pop-Up Cinema.

Trailer (English subtitles)

Daughter’s Daughter (女兒的女兒, Huang Xi, 2024)

Never having fully dealt with the trauma of her teenage pregnancy and decision to give her child up to be raised by a family friend, 64-year-old divorcee Jin Ai-xia (Sylvia Chang Ai-chia) finds herself in an eerily similar position on on learning that the daughter she raised in Taiwan has been killed in a car accident in New York where she was receiving fertility treatment. The process resulted in a healthy embryo of which Ai-xia now finds herself the “guardian”. She is given four options, keep the embryo in storage and pay to renew the contract when it runs out, find a surrogate to carry to it term, donate it to another couple, or have it destroyed.

The fact that there are eight months left on the contract that her daughter Zuer (Eugenie Liu Yi-er) signed makes this almost another pregnancy which Ai-xia must decide whether or not to continue. Keeping the embryo in storage only defers the decision and traps it in the same mental space in which Ai-xia thinks of Emma (Karena Lam), the daughter she did not raise and tried to put out of her mind. In its consideration of motherhood, the film does shy away from suggesting that it is a kind of burden and requires sacrifice whether willing or not. Later confronted, if gently, by Emma who has unbeknownst to her become a single mother who chose to keep her child, Ai-xia justifies herself that she was 16 and afraid. Most of all, she was afraid the baby would trap her in New York’s Chinatown and that her life would never change after that. She wanted more, so she went along with her mother’s proposed solution of giving her daughter to a childless couple to raise while she returned to Taiwan and never looked back.

Yet it’s Emma who seems to haunt her while she’s in New York trying to sort out Zuer’s affairs while mired in her grief. It’s clear that she feels that she failed both her daughters as her unresolved trauma over separating from Emma left her unable to fully bond with Zuer whom she raised at arms’ length. When Zuer and her same-sex partner Jia-yi (Tracy Chou Tsai-shih) decide to have a child, Ai-xia is against it. It seems there may be some lingering prejudice in her about their relationship as she tells Zuer that the baby won’t be able to explain their family situation, but it’s also partly that she doesn’t want her to be trapped by motherhood as she felt herself to be. She asks her why she and Jia-yi don’t just enjoy their life together rather than complicate with a child. Ai-xia tells Emma that she wanted to live her own life, while expressing the same desire now that she has become a second mother to her own mother, Yan-hua (Ma Ting-Ni), who is living with dementia. Once her mother passes away, she’s looking forward to enjoying her freedom for once. 

Ai-xia rails that no one ever really considered her feelings and that she’s been given this burden without ever really being given an opportunity to ask herself if she wanted it. There’s a minor irony in Yun-hua’s segueing back into the past to tell the 64-year-old Ai-xia that she can’t raise a child at this age as if she were still a pregnant 16-year-old. As an older woman, she reflects that Yun-hua probably didn’t make that decision solely because she was embarrassed by the stigma of teenage pregnancy but genuinely thought it was best for both her daughter and her granddaughter. But now Ai-xia is facing the same choice at the other end of her life knowing that if she chooses to raise Zuer’s baby she may not live long enough to see it to adulthood, nor may she have the energy to look after a small child even if she has the time. 

But Ai-xia carries Zuer’s ashes around with her holding them in front of her belly as if they were the embryo and she were already carrying it. Placing the square black container on the airport scanner and watching it travel through the tunnel is oddly like an act of rebirth. Attempting to come to terms with her own complicated maternity, she thrashes out the past with Emma but also really with herself in trying to decide whether or not to continue this maternal legacy despite the sacrifices and compromises it entails. For her, motherhood becomes an act of self-forgiveness in which she learns to understand both her own mother and her daughters along with their shared connection in this ever-increasing line.


Daughter’s Daughter screens 18th July as part of this year’s New York Asian Film Festival.

Trailer (English subtitles)