Much Feeling Little Thinking
Ivana Wong
On the album opener Starry Sky, Hong Kong singer-actress Ivana Wong croons intimately: “A dream is like plucking a star or plucking starlight, is it a question or an answer/What’s fake becomes real, what’s real panics.”
She teases apart dualities and finds riddles and conundrums. The song itself is always beguiling, with the pairing of Lin Xi’s probing lyrics and her pretty tune.
The surprising number starts as a piano ballad and then veers into electronica territory as her voice is manipulated and distorted. She is so confident of it that the second track is a piano-accompanied version that highlights the tenderness and yearning in her voice. It has been some time since such an enchanting Cantopop ballad came along.
We They is another collaboration with Lin in which dichotomies are dissected to intriguing effect: “How does grey judge black and white/How does the middle critique left and right/Who are we, who are they/Who’s knocking at the door, who’s willing to answer.”
The album feels a little too sprawling at 14 tracks and the narrative of Minor Surgery, for one, feels a little out of place. Included as well are a handful of Mandarin tracks, including the lilting Zhi Hu Zhe Ye (All Greek To Me).
While the title suggests that it is either one or the either, this record proves that Wong can make music that engages both the heart and the head.
(ST)
Wednesday, June 28, 2017
Okja
Bong Joon Ho
The story: For 10 years, Mija (Ahn Seo Hyun) has been living an idyllic life in the mountains of South Korea with her grandfather and her giant pig companion Okja. But Okja is actually the property of a multinational company headed by Lucy Mirando (Tilda Swinton) and she wants it shipped back to the United States to be crowned winner of a super pig contest.
Mija is determined to save her friend and gets some unexpected help from animal-rights activists, including Jay (Paul Dano) and K (Steven Yeun).
The bond between man and animal (real or imagined) has been explored recently in the family- friendly fantasy Pete’s Dragon (2016) as well as in Singapore-born film-maker Kirsten Tan’s whimsical drama Pop Aye (2017), in which an architect reunites with his childhood companion elephant.
Okja, which was in competition for the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival last month, falls on the fantasy side of the spectrum.
The titular creature is a giant pig, one that sometimes resembles a hippopotamus, but with soulful eyes that suggest a strong connection with her human caretaker.
When Okja is threatened, Mija’s anger, fear and desperation are palpable. Ahn (The Housemaid, 2010) is compelling and will have you rooting for her.
The film is most satisfying when it dwells on their bond. The bucolic existence of a girl and her pig in a verdant and bountiful land, beautifully filmed by South Korean writer-director Bong Joon Ho, feels like a fairy tale.
Yet its shifting tone – from drama to comedy to thriller – is jarring.
This is disappointing, coming from Bong, who has produced excellent work, from the gripping thriller Memories Of Murder (2003) to the wrenching drama Mother (2009). And the superior creature feature from the film-maker remains 2006’s The Host.
When Okja is not a creature feature, it is bogged down by the other stuff, from the controversy over genetically modified food to corporate greed and deception.
Worse, Swinton’s performance is mannered and Jake Gyllenhaal’s exaggerated portrayal of an insecure television personality/zoologist comes across as gimmicky.
At least the activists are endearing in their reluctance to hurt any living thing, even their human foes.
(ST)
Bong Joon Ho
The story: For 10 years, Mija (Ahn Seo Hyun) has been living an idyllic life in the mountains of South Korea with her grandfather and her giant pig companion Okja. But Okja is actually the property of a multinational company headed by Lucy Mirando (Tilda Swinton) and she wants it shipped back to the United States to be crowned winner of a super pig contest.
Mija is determined to save her friend and gets some unexpected help from animal-rights activists, including Jay (Paul Dano) and K (Steven Yeun).
The bond between man and animal (real or imagined) has been explored recently in the family- friendly fantasy Pete’s Dragon (2016) as well as in Singapore-born film-maker Kirsten Tan’s whimsical drama Pop Aye (2017), in which an architect reunites with his childhood companion elephant.
Okja, which was in competition for the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival last month, falls on the fantasy side of the spectrum.
The titular creature is a giant pig, one that sometimes resembles a hippopotamus, but with soulful eyes that suggest a strong connection with her human caretaker.
When Okja is threatened, Mija’s anger, fear and desperation are palpable. Ahn (The Housemaid, 2010) is compelling and will have you rooting for her.
The film is most satisfying when it dwells on their bond. The bucolic existence of a girl and her pig in a verdant and bountiful land, beautifully filmed by South Korean writer-director Bong Joon Ho, feels like a fairy tale.
Yet its shifting tone – from drama to comedy to thriller – is jarring.
This is disappointing, coming from Bong, who has produced excellent work, from the gripping thriller Memories Of Murder (2003) to the wrenching drama Mother (2009). And the superior creature feature from the film-maker remains 2006’s The Host.
When Okja is not a creature feature, it is bogged down by the other stuff, from the controversy over genetically modified food to corporate greed and deception.
Worse, Swinton’s performance is mannered and Jake Gyllenhaal’s exaggerated portrayal of an insecure television personality/zoologist comes across as gimmicky.
At least the activists are endearing in their reluctance to hurt any living thing, even their human foes.
(ST)
Wednesday, June 21, 2017
Mad World
Wong Chun
The story: After he is discharged from a mental health institution, Tung (Shawn Yue) moves in with his estranged truck-driver father (Eric Tsang). The former financial analyst tries to get a job and reaches out to his former fiancee, Jenny (Charmaine Fong). But the cloud of his mother’s (Elaine Jin) accidental death and his decision to go off his medication prove to be a potent combination.
There is a fine tradition of socially conscious films from Hong Kong, such as Ann Hui’s Boat People (1982), about Vietnamese refugees, and Cageman (1992), about the horrific living conditions of the territory’s destitute.
That mantle has been passed to a new generation of film-makers, such as Jevons Au and Kiwi Chow (dystopian Hong Kong portrait Ten Years, 2015), as well as Wong Chun, whose compassionate debut feature Mad World takes on the topic of mental illness.
To his credit, this never turns into a preachy “issues” film.
He depicts the malady of intolerance and fear towards mental illness, but does not pretend there are easy remedies. Mad World is an indictment, but it is not a didactic prescription about what should or should not be done.
Instead, the work is grounded by solid performances.
Tsang is a guilt-ridden father trying to make amends and finds himself confronted with difficult questions as the sole caretaker of his son: What is the right thing to do? What is the loving thing to do?
Yue plays a bipolar disorder sufferer trying to make his way in a world in which empathy and kindness are so hard to come by – proving there is more to his range than the laidback Jimmy he has played in the hit romantic comedy series that began with Love In A Puff (2010).
Even when Tung strikes up an unlikely friendship with a precocious little boy who lives in the same tenement unit, that connection eventually becomes fraught.
Jin as Tung’s pain-ridden, embittered and combative mother and Fong as the ex-fiancee struggling with forgiveness are portrayals that also ring true.
The deeply humanist film has been racking up accolades, including Golden Horse Awards for Best New Director and Best Supporting Actress for Jin; and Hong Kong Film Awards for Best New Director, Best Supporting Actress for Jin and Best Supporting Actor for Tsang.
It sold out three sessions at the Singapore Chinese Film Festival earlier this year and has now been picked up for general release.
The difference is that audiences will watch it in dubbed-over Mandarin, instead of the original Cantonese.
Wong Chun
The story: After he is discharged from a mental health institution, Tung (Shawn Yue) moves in with his estranged truck-driver father (Eric Tsang). The former financial analyst tries to get a job and reaches out to his former fiancee, Jenny (Charmaine Fong). But the cloud of his mother’s (Elaine Jin) accidental death and his decision to go off his medication prove to be a potent combination.
There is a fine tradition of socially conscious films from Hong Kong, such as Ann Hui’s Boat People (1982), about Vietnamese refugees, and Cageman (1992), about the horrific living conditions of the territory’s destitute.
That mantle has been passed to a new generation of film-makers, such as Jevons Au and Kiwi Chow (dystopian Hong Kong portrait Ten Years, 2015), as well as Wong Chun, whose compassionate debut feature Mad World takes on the topic of mental illness.
To his credit, this never turns into a preachy “issues” film.
He depicts the malady of intolerance and fear towards mental illness, but does not pretend there are easy remedies. Mad World is an indictment, but it is not a didactic prescription about what should or should not be done.
Instead, the work is grounded by solid performances.
Tsang is a guilt-ridden father trying to make amends and finds himself confronted with difficult questions as the sole caretaker of his son: What is the right thing to do? What is the loving thing to do?
Yue plays a bipolar disorder sufferer trying to make his way in a world in which empathy and kindness are so hard to come by – proving there is more to his range than the laidback Jimmy he has played in the hit romantic comedy series that began with Love In A Puff (2010).
Even when Tung strikes up an unlikely friendship with a precocious little boy who lives in the same tenement unit, that connection eventually becomes fraught.
Jin as Tung’s pain-ridden, embittered and combative mother and Fong as the ex-fiancee struggling with forgiveness are portrayals that also ring true.
The deeply humanist film has been racking up accolades, including Golden Horse Awards for Best New Director and Best Supporting Actress for Jin; and Hong Kong Film Awards for Best New Director, Best Supporting Actress for Jin and Best Supporting Actor for Tsang.
It sold out three sessions at the Singapore Chinese Film Festival earlier this year and has now been picked up for general release.
The difference is that audiences will watch it in dubbed-over Mandarin, instead of the original Cantonese.
(ST)
Thursday, June 15, 2017
Despicable Me 3
Pierre Coffin, Kyle Balda
The story: Evil-turned-good Gru’s (Steve Carell) nemesis here is a bitter former television child star, Balthazar Bratt (Trey Parker), who is determined to relive his glory days in dastardly ways. Gru also finds out that he has a twin brother Dru (Carell), who looks exactly like him – but with a full head of blond hair to his bald pate. And Dru wants them to team up to snatch a huge diamond that Bratt has stolen.
Three movies in and this series has settled on a nice mix of breezy tone, funny gags and sweet moments.
The opening sequence alone is enough to raise some smiles as Bratt pulls off a heist to the soundtrack of Michael Jackson’s irrepressible hit, Bad. The period details of the 1980s child star’s get-up are perfect, from the flat top mullet haircut to the over-the-top shoulder pads.
His army of weaponised figurines is jokily christened Bratt Pack, a reference to the Brat Pack – a group of young actors including Rob Lowe and Emilio Estevez who frequently appeared in coming-of-age movies in the 1980s.
Parker, creator of the no-holds- barred animated series South Park (1997 to present), has a ball voicing the petulant villain and so does Carell as he plays with the dynamic between the twin brothers: one who has given up a life of crime and one who is dying to dip his toes into shady business.
Director Pierre Coffin, who helmed the previous two instalments, pairs up with a new co-director, Kyle Balda, here. The two had worked together on the spin-off flick Minions (2015), the titular querulous, yellow creatures being the breakout stars of the Despicable Me series.
But while carrying an entire movie might have been a tad much for the little critters, they are still a blast in little, manic doses. The side story of their incarceration is a hoot as they wrest control of the jail away from the tough guys and eventually break out of prison.
The sweet moments involve Gru’s wife and fellow crime-fighter Lucy Wilde (Kristen Wiig) learning to be a mother to his three adopted daughters.
But not to worry, things don’t get too saccharine. In fact, the complicated relationship between Gru and Dru suggests that sibling rivalry could be on the cards for the next movie.
(ST)
Pierre Coffin, Kyle Balda
The story: Evil-turned-good Gru’s (Steve Carell) nemesis here is a bitter former television child star, Balthazar Bratt (Trey Parker), who is determined to relive his glory days in dastardly ways. Gru also finds out that he has a twin brother Dru (Carell), who looks exactly like him – but with a full head of blond hair to his bald pate. And Dru wants them to team up to snatch a huge diamond that Bratt has stolen.
Three movies in and this series has settled on a nice mix of breezy tone, funny gags and sweet moments.
The opening sequence alone is enough to raise some smiles as Bratt pulls off a heist to the soundtrack of Michael Jackson’s irrepressible hit, Bad. The period details of the 1980s child star’s get-up are perfect, from the flat top mullet haircut to the over-the-top shoulder pads.
His army of weaponised figurines is jokily christened Bratt Pack, a reference to the Brat Pack – a group of young actors including Rob Lowe and Emilio Estevez who frequently appeared in coming-of-age movies in the 1980s.
Parker, creator of the no-holds- barred animated series South Park (1997 to present), has a ball voicing the petulant villain and so does Carell as he plays with the dynamic between the twin brothers: one who has given up a life of crime and one who is dying to dip his toes into shady business.
Director Pierre Coffin, who helmed the previous two instalments, pairs up with a new co-director, Kyle Balda, here. The two had worked together on the spin-off flick Minions (2015), the titular querulous, yellow creatures being the breakout stars of the Despicable Me series.
But while carrying an entire movie might have been a tad much for the little critters, they are still a blast in little, manic doses. The side story of their incarceration is a hoot as they wrest control of the jail away from the tough guys and eventually break out of prison.
The sweet moments involve Gru’s wife and fellow crime-fighter Lucy Wilde (Kristen Wiig) learning to be a mother to his three adopted daughters.
But not to worry, things don’t get too saccharine. In fact, the complicated relationship between Gru and Dru suggests that sibling rivalry could be on the cards for the next movie.
(ST)
Wednesday, June 14, 2017
Million Songs Hill
Xu Jun
Apart from Guo Ding, Xu Jun is another Chinese singer-songwriter who has found favour at the prestigious Golden Melody Awards.
His debut album, Million Songs Hill, has been nominated for Album of the Year and Best Mandarin Album. The results will be announced on June 24.
He took part in the second season of the reality television contest Sing My Song in 2015, but missed out on the Best Mandarin Male Vocalist category, in which Guo is up against familiar names such as Jay Chou, Yoga Lin and Khalil Fong.
The opening track, Shot By Love’s Gun, starts with a hymn-like organ introduction before Xu’s raspy voice paints a violent picture: “I was caught off-guard and shot by love’s gun/Collapsed in a pool of blood, but I’ve never thought of resisting.”
It is as though, in the face of a maelstrom of emotions, resistance is futile. But the chorus holds out hope: “I’ve tried hard to cross over these boiling waters and this door of anger.”
There is some variety, from the light-hearted Mess Around to the sole English number, Feathers, which Xu co-wrote with Australian singer-songwriter Hayley Aitken and Swedish writer-producer Ollipop. One can almost imagine him busking on the streets of Stockholm, where the album was recorded, with a guitar as he sings: “And as we go, go along, long this road/Passing people by/Like a leaf in the wind, we will rise and we will fall again.”
On the strength of this record, I would say that this is his time to rise.
(ST)
Xu Jun
Apart from Guo Ding, Xu Jun is another Chinese singer-songwriter who has found favour at the prestigious Golden Melody Awards.
His debut album, Million Songs Hill, has been nominated for Album of the Year and Best Mandarin Album. The results will be announced on June 24.
He took part in the second season of the reality television contest Sing My Song in 2015, but missed out on the Best Mandarin Male Vocalist category, in which Guo is up against familiar names such as Jay Chou, Yoga Lin and Khalil Fong.
The opening track, Shot By Love’s Gun, starts with a hymn-like organ introduction before Xu’s raspy voice paints a violent picture: “I was caught off-guard and shot by love’s gun/Collapsed in a pool of blood, but I’ve never thought of resisting.”
It is as though, in the face of a maelstrom of emotions, resistance is futile. But the chorus holds out hope: “I’ve tried hard to cross over these boiling waters and this door of anger.”
There is some variety, from the light-hearted Mess Around to the sole English number, Feathers, which Xu co-wrote with Australian singer-songwriter Hayley Aitken and Swedish writer-producer Ollipop. One can almost imagine him busking on the streets of Stockholm, where the album was recorded, with a guitar as he sings: “And as we go, go along, long this road/Passing people by/Like a leaf in the wind, we will rise and we will fall again.”
On the strength of this record, I would say that this is his time to rise.
(ST)
Saturday, June 10, 2017
At points, it was the largest KTV room in Singapore, as the crowd of about 7,200 sang along fervently. At others, it was the largest Mandopop disco as the beats throbbed, the lights danced and the audience boogied along.
Taiwanese diva A-mei moved effortlessly from one scenario to the other at the Singapore Indoor Stadium on June 9, equally at ease belting out ballads or firing up the high-octane dance numbers in her World Tour 2017 concert that was almost three hours long.
It took a while though before her vocals warmed up fully.
On the opening string of fast-paced tracks, her voice seemed quite ragged and the energy level wasn't quite there.
Given that her previous show here was at the National Stadium just last January, there was also a certain familiarity to the proceedings as she blew kisses and exhorted her fans to "give me your hands".
An early standout number was Bloody Love Story. While it was perhaps rather literal to bathe the stage in red, it was also effective in creating a macabre mood.
Things picked up further when the dreadlocked A-mei started singing I Hate I Love You. Her voice took centre stage as she crooned to the accompaniment of a piano, and it was warm and powerful. This was followed by Have You Heard Lately?, Truth and Want Nothing, the fans' chorusing growing louder with each hit.
The gig also marked the singer's 20th anniversary milestone and she had a few surprises up her sleeve. (Strictly speaking, her debut album Sisters came out in 1996, but who's quibbling?)
She sang the moving Listen To Me as a tribute to her "good teacher and friend", Taiwanese singer-songwriter-producer Chang Yu-sheng, who died in 1997 after a car accident. The song was released when he was in a coma fighting for his life and because of the painful associations, she has rarely performed it.
There were other, happier memories.
A-mei turned back the years in a time travel segment in which she performed one song each from every one of her 16 albums, starting with the reggae-influenced Jamaican Betel Nut off Amit2 (2015).
On the track Rainbow (from 2009's Amit), she waved around a rainbow flag and said: "I'm cheering on every kind of love." She dusted off the almost forgotten Journey (2001) and later recalled that she had filmed a music video in Singapore for the ballad Early (from 2000's Regardless).
During Hand In Hand (1998), the crowd clapped along; during Thinking Of You (from 1997's Bad Boy), they waved their hands in the air as one as A-mei urged the audience to set a high bar for the following night's almost sold-out show.
It ended at the beginning with Sisters, the title track of the 1996 album that made her name. She sang the 2016 slowed-down version, as though taking a moment to reflect on far how she has come - and how far her fans have travelled with her.
By the end of the night, my voice was starting to get ragged. A-mei sounded like she could sing for another 20 years.
(ST)
x
Wednesday, June 07, 2017
The Silent Star Stone
Guo Ding
Chinese singer-songwriter Guo Ding is breaking out with his album The Silent Star Stone.
He has six nominations at the prestigious Golden Melody Awards, including for Album of the Year, Best Mandarin Album and Best Mandarin Male Vocalist. The results will be announced on June 24.
This is his third record after his self-titled debut in 2005 and Wei Wei (Slightly) in 2009, but listeners here are unlikely to be familiar with the Hunan-born musician, given his songs have not gotten much airplay here.
Well, better late than never.
His voice is a mesmerising instrument that pulls one in from the get-go.
He has a richly resonant set of pipes with a slight drawl that hints of both intimacy and attitude, one that is magnetic at the lower end of the register and equally persuasive on the higher reaches.
Guo is up for the Best Composer and Best Lyricist gongs with the opening track Qi Mei Di (The Fog Space), which begins with the evocative couplet: “I used to be unsettled river waters/Winding through the forest to enter your heart by mistake.” It builds up to an unabashed declaration of love: “Hey, wait till I find you/Probe your gaze/Embrace with no distractions.”
This is lush and swoonsome pop, propelled by a pulsing beat and urgency of feeling.
Ballad Shui Xing Ji (Mercury Records) is another standout, with its delicacy of melody and mood and a chorus that tugs at the heartstrings: “How much further before I can enter your heart/How long before I can get close to you.”
It is nominated for Best Music Video and the clip puts a sciencefiction spin on the loss of a loved one.
Some influences here are unusual for Mandopop, but Guo makes them all sound natural and cohesive, from the bluesy Luo Di Zhi Qian (Before Hitting The Ground) to the disco-tinged You Shen Me Qi Guai (What’s So Strange).
Three years ago, Chinese singer-songwriter Li Ronghao was named Best New Artist at the Golden Melody Awards and he has proven himself to be a major new force in Mandopop.
It looks like he might be getting some company from a fellow countryman very soon.
(ST)
Guo Ding
Chinese singer-songwriter Guo Ding is breaking out with his album The Silent Star Stone.
He has six nominations at the prestigious Golden Melody Awards, including for Album of the Year, Best Mandarin Album and Best Mandarin Male Vocalist. The results will be announced on June 24.
This is his third record after his self-titled debut in 2005 and Wei Wei (Slightly) in 2009, but listeners here are unlikely to be familiar with the Hunan-born musician, given his songs have not gotten much airplay here.
Well, better late than never.
His voice is a mesmerising instrument that pulls one in from the get-go.
He has a richly resonant set of pipes with a slight drawl that hints of both intimacy and attitude, one that is magnetic at the lower end of the register and equally persuasive on the higher reaches.
Guo is up for the Best Composer and Best Lyricist gongs with the opening track Qi Mei Di (The Fog Space), which begins with the evocative couplet: “I used to be unsettled river waters/Winding through the forest to enter your heart by mistake.” It builds up to an unabashed declaration of love: “Hey, wait till I find you/Probe your gaze/Embrace with no distractions.”
This is lush and swoonsome pop, propelled by a pulsing beat and urgency of feeling.
Ballad Shui Xing Ji (Mercury Records) is another standout, with its delicacy of melody and mood and a chorus that tugs at the heartstrings: “How much further before I can enter your heart/How long before I can get close to you.”
It is nominated for Best Music Video and the clip puts a sciencefiction spin on the loss of a loved one.
Some influences here are unusual for Mandopop, but Guo makes them all sound natural and cohesive, from the bluesy Luo Di Zhi Qian (Before Hitting The Ground) to the disco-tinged You Shen Me Qi Guai (What’s So Strange).
Three years ago, Chinese singer-songwriter Li Ronghao was named Best New Artist at the Golden Melody Awards and he has proven himself to be a major new force in Mandopop.
It looks like he might be getting some company from a fellow countryman very soon.
(ST)
Wednesday, May 31, 2017
God Of War
Gordon Chan
The story: General Qi Jiguang (Vincent Zhao) is tasked to deal with the scourge of pirates menacing coastal China during the Ming dynasty in the 1500s. One group of invaders has even taken over Cengang in Zhejiang province. It turns out that masterful Japanese strategist Kumasawa (Kurata Yasuaki) is pulling the strings behind these attacks. He and Gen Qi engage in a battle of tactics as he launches attacks on three different fronts.
Given that Hollywood blockbuster Pirates Of The Caribbean: Salazar’s Revenge is now showing, God Of War could easily be dismissed as “the other pirate movie”. That would be a pity, for there is quite a bit to treasure here.
At its helm is Hong Kong director Gordon Chan, who can be hit-or-miss, responsible for helming the overly CGI-heavy fantasy flick Mural (2011) as well as hit Stephen Chow comedy Royal Tramp (1992). Here, he delivers layered storytelling, gripping battle sequences and an even more exciting battle of wits between Qi and Kumasawa.
Things are more complicated than they appear to be at first glance. The pirates are a front for Japanese samurai keen on making money for military adventures back home; Qi has a reputation for being unbeatable, but the truth has been bent for the sake of propaganda; and Zhejiang governor Hu (Wang Ban) – Qi’s superior – could be corrupt or merely practical.
The characters are treated with some care.
Zhao delivers a convincing performance as Qi, who is heroic without being bland. For one thing, the general occasionally submits to his wife, a strong-willed woman who is capable of taking up arms when enemies attack. Chinese actress Wan Qian, from 2014’s Taiwanese drama Paradise In Service, acquits herself superbly in the role.
Unusually, the Japanese villains here are not caricatures – Yasuaki brings a certain dignity and pathos to wily strategist Kumasawa, who has to contend with an impatient and rash young master (Koide Keisuke).
God Of War’s engaging storytelling is a pleasant surprise, given that there are four names credited for its screenplay: Xiong Zhaozheng, Maria Wong, Frankie Tam and Wu Mengzhang. Happily, the proverbial broth is not spoilt by the many cooks.
(ST)
Gordon Chan
The story: General Qi Jiguang (Vincent Zhao) is tasked to deal with the scourge of pirates menacing coastal China during the Ming dynasty in the 1500s. One group of invaders has even taken over Cengang in Zhejiang province. It turns out that masterful Japanese strategist Kumasawa (Kurata Yasuaki) is pulling the strings behind these attacks. He and Gen Qi engage in a battle of tactics as he launches attacks on three different fronts.
Given that Hollywood blockbuster Pirates Of The Caribbean: Salazar’s Revenge is now showing, God Of War could easily be dismissed as “the other pirate movie”. That would be a pity, for there is quite a bit to treasure here.
At its helm is Hong Kong director Gordon Chan, who can be hit-or-miss, responsible for helming the overly CGI-heavy fantasy flick Mural (2011) as well as hit Stephen Chow comedy Royal Tramp (1992). Here, he delivers layered storytelling, gripping battle sequences and an even more exciting battle of wits between Qi and Kumasawa.
Things are more complicated than they appear to be at first glance. The pirates are a front for Japanese samurai keen on making money for military adventures back home; Qi has a reputation for being unbeatable, but the truth has been bent for the sake of propaganda; and Zhejiang governor Hu (Wang Ban) – Qi’s superior – could be corrupt or merely practical.
The characters are treated with some care.
Zhao delivers a convincing performance as Qi, who is heroic without being bland. For one thing, the general occasionally submits to his wife, a strong-willed woman who is capable of taking up arms when enemies attack. Chinese actress Wan Qian, from 2014’s Taiwanese drama Paradise In Service, acquits herself superbly in the role.
Unusually, the Japanese villains here are not caricatures – Yasuaki brings a certain dignity and pathos to wily strategist Kumasawa, who has to contend with an impatient and rash young master (Koide Keisuke).
God Of War’s engaging storytelling is a pleasant surprise, given that there are four names credited for its screenplay: Xiong Zhaozheng, Maria Wong, Frankie Tam and Wu Mengzhang. Happily, the proverbial broth is not spoilt by the many cooks.
(ST)
Wednesday, May 17, 2017
Lucky Boy
Boris Boo
The story: Lin Yu (Wang Weiliang) seems destined to always be No. 2 in whatever he does, coming up just short every single time. When he meets Qingqing (Venus Wong) as a little boy, he carries a torch for her that burns for many years even as they are kept apart by circumstances and the other men in her life.
Wang Weiliang broke out as Ah Beng soldier Lobang in the national service-themed ensemble Ah Boys To Men films (2012-2015) with his swagger and assured screen presence.
He gets the chance to be the leading man here but, unfortunately, in a role that calls for him to be mousy and timid most of the time.
Even worse: While the idea is for this to be an epic romance in the vein of Taiwanese hits You Are The Apple Of My Eye (2011) and Our Times (2015), the vibe between him and pretty but bland Hong Kong actress Venus Wong (King Of Mahjong, 2015) is more amicable than passionate.
The will-they-or-won’t-they premise drags out for far too long.
The movie could have done with a much-needed trim, especially the jarring jump from light-hearted comedy romance to melodrama in a teary rooftop scene between Lin and his father (Chew Chor Meng).
The attempt to add some heft by incorporating real-life events from the Hotel New World collapse in 1986 to the Sars outbreak in 2003 does not really work.
These momentous episodes are reduced to the equivalent of movie wallpaper populated by a cast stuck in underwritten roles, including local 1980s television star Chen Xiuhuan as Lin’s over-protective mother.
(ST)
Boris Boo
The story: Lin Yu (Wang Weiliang) seems destined to always be No. 2 in whatever he does, coming up just short every single time. When he meets Qingqing (Venus Wong) as a little boy, he carries a torch for her that burns for many years even as they are kept apart by circumstances and the other men in her life.
Wang Weiliang broke out as Ah Beng soldier Lobang in the national service-themed ensemble Ah Boys To Men films (2012-2015) with his swagger and assured screen presence.
He gets the chance to be the leading man here but, unfortunately, in a role that calls for him to be mousy and timid most of the time.
Even worse: While the idea is for this to be an epic romance in the vein of Taiwanese hits You Are The Apple Of My Eye (2011) and Our Times (2015), the vibe between him and pretty but bland Hong Kong actress Venus Wong (King Of Mahjong, 2015) is more amicable than passionate.
The will-they-or-won’t-they premise drags out for far too long.
The movie could have done with a much-needed trim, especially the jarring jump from light-hearted comedy romance to melodrama in a teary rooftop scene between Lin and his father (Chew Chor Meng).
The attempt to add some heft by incorporating real-life events from the Hotel New World collapse in 1986 to the Sars outbreak in 2003 does not really work.
These momentous episodes are reduced to the equivalent of movie wallpaper populated by a cast stuck in underwritten roles, including local 1980s television star Chen Xiuhuan as Lin’s over-protective mother.
(ST)
Wednesday, May 10, 2017
18
Z-Chen Chang
Malaysian singer Z-Chen Chang’s last studio album of original material, In Love With... (2011), still lingers on my mind with his moving take on the ballads Invaluable Advice and Met Too Soon, both of which were penned by Percy Phang.
Bruises, the opening track from the new album, also composed by the Johor Baru-born, Taiwan-educated Phang, is not quite as effective. Listen instead to the bruising emotions of Walk Away, composed by Zheng Yujie, who was also behind the title track of Rainie Yang’s 2016 album Traces Of Time In Love: “I walk away, carve my memories into a memorial/I walk away, break free of these surging tears.”
The following Fight For Love, music and lyrics by Phang, offers a welcome change of pace and a more pro-active stance: “If you really love someone, you will fight for love.”
On the whole, though, 18 is less memorable than his earlier effort. Maybe Chang needs to fight for more distinctive material.
(ST)
Z-Chen Chang
Malaysian singer Z-Chen Chang’s last studio album of original material, In Love With... (2011), still lingers on my mind with his moving take on the ballads Invaluable Advice and Met Too Soon, both of which were penned by Percy Phang.
Bruises, the opening track from the new album, also composed by the Johor Baru-born, Taiwan-educated Phang, is not quite as effective. Listen instead to the bruising emotions of Walk Away, composed by Zheng Yujie, who was also behind the title track of Rainie Yang’s 2016 album Traces Of Time In Love: “I walk away, carve my memories into a memorial/I walk away, break free of these surging tears.”
The following Fight For Love, music and lyrics by Phang, offers a welcome change of pace and a more pro-active stance: “If you really love someone, you will fight for love.”
On the whole, though, 18 is less memorable than his earlier effort. Maybe Chang needs to fight for more distinctive material.
(ST)
29+1 (PG)
Kearen Pang
The story: Calorie-counting and vitamin-popping executive Christy Lam (Chrissie Chau) gets a promotion at work, but she starts to question what she wants in life on the eve of her 30th birthday. When she is forced to move from her apartment, she ends up in the charmingly and whimsically decorated home of Wong Tin Lok (Joyce Cheng), who turns out to share the same birth date and is on her dream vacation to Paris.
Rat-race fatigue is not exactly new or unusual and Christy’s story – which writer-director Kearen Pang first staged as a one-woman play in 2005 – feels a little too familiar to be revelatory.
Perhaps a stronger actress would have made the role more sympathetic. Chau, who remains better known for her pictorial books than acting chops, is adequate here, but not quite compelling enough.
Things get more interesting with the entry of Tin Lok.
Carefree and cheerful, the unambitious record store assistant is the polar opposite of Christy.
Cheng is very good, admittedly in a role that is easier to like. There is a joy and sweetness to her performance that lights up the screen and there is nice rapport between her and Babyjohn Choi, who plays Tin Lok’s best friend.
Pang draws parallels between the lives of the two women and, intriguingly, Christy starts to imagine herself as Tin Lok. It feels a little jarring here because Chau and Cheng are physically so different.
One cannot help but think that this conceit would have worked better in the one-woman play, when Pang slipped in and out of both roles.
(ST)
Kearen Pang
The story: Calorie-counting and vitamin-popping executive Christy Lam (Chrissie Chau) gets a promotion at work, but she starts to question what she wants in life on the eve of her 30th birthday. When she is forced to move from her apartment, she ends up in the charmingly and whimsically decorated home of Wong Tin Lok (Joyce Cheng), who turns out to share the same birth date and is on her dream vacation to Paris.
Rat-race fatigue is not exactly new or unusual and Christy’s story – which writer-director Kearen Pang first staged as a one-woman play in 2005 – feels a little too familiar to be revelatory.
Perhaps a stronger actress would have made the role more sympathetic. Chau, who remains better known for her pictorial books than acting chops, is adequate here, but not quite compelling enough.
Things get more interesting with the entry of Tin Lok.
Carefree and cheerful, the unambitious record store assistant is the polar opposite of Christy.
Cheng is very good, admittedly in a role that is easier to like. There is a joy and sweetness to her performance that lights up the screen and there is nice rapport between her and Babyjohn Choi, who plays Tin Lok’s best friend.
Pang draws parallels between the lives of the two women and, intriguingly, Christy starts to imagine herself as Tin Lok. It feels a little jarring here because Chau and Cheng are physically so different.
One cannot help but think that this conceit would have worked better in the one-woman play, when Pang slipped in and out of both roles.
(ST)
Wednesday, May 03, 2017
In the recent Chinese suspense thriller The Mysterious Family, a mother was confronting her daughter’s rapist in an emotionally charged scene, when the subtitles suddenly took centre stage and wrested attention away from what was happening onscreen.
“You have the nuts to do it, why not have the balls to admit it?”
In Mandarin, the line went: “Ni you zhong zuo, wei shen me mei zhong cheng ren?” A simpler and more effective translation could have been: “You had the guts to do it, why don’t you have the guts to admit it?”
Mixing nuts and balls is clearly a case of a subtitler gone rogue.
Subtitles for a movie should be like that old adage about children – seen but not heard, or draw attention to themselves.
They play an important role in broadening the audience for a work, but they should be subservient to the movie.
At least in The Mysterious Family, there was effort expended on the subtitles, misguided though that line was.
That cannot be said for the awful errors in other films.
In the local horror comedy, The Ghosts Must Be Crazy (2011), a character is described as a “sicklish chicken”. A spellcheck would have revealed that there is no such word as “sicklish”.
The Korean drama, Natali (2011), billed as the first erotic movie shown here in 3D, thrust ungrammatical Mandarin and English subtitles in the audience’s faces rather than sexy shenanigans.
And the Chinese adventure flick, For A Few Bullets (2016), undermined the charms of its rakish leading man Lin Gengxin with subtitles that were rife with errors, including this: “Some warlords forces used violent mechanic to destroying the tomb.”
These films have a production budget, but no one thought it was worth spending some money to get right something as basic as the subtitles.
I am far more forgiving when it comes to fansubs – these are subtitles done by fans for which they are not paid. Even when the English is laboured – as though chunks of dialogue had been dumped into the input column of Google Translate and the results simply copied and pasted from the output column – I am thankful.
After all, without their labour of love, I would not have access to the likes of Thai-language television dramas.
The hard work of these fans is sometimes recognised by the actors themselves and getting that acknowledgement by one’s idols must be such a thrill for them.
On the Facebook page for the Thai drama, Part Time The Series – about university students who work to make ends meet – there is a photo of lead actor Luangsodsai Anupart (also known as Ngern) holding up a handwritten thank-you sign to the subtitles team for the show.
Once in a while, one gets reminded that these amateur subtitlers have lives outside of their time-consuming hobby.
There was a plea – in subtitles in an episode I watched – for viewers not to hound them for new, captioned episodes as they were having exams and that they would get to it when they had the time.
In another show, the subtitler was so involved with the drama that he berated a character for his behaviour in comments generously sprinkled with exclamation marks.
It was like a special DVD running-commentary bonus feature – except that this could not be turned off.
(ST)
“You have the nuts to do it, why not have the balls to admit it?”
In Mandarin, the line went: “Ni you zhong zuo, wei shen me mei zhong cheng ren?” A simpler and more effective translation could have been: “You had the guts to do it, why don’t you have the guts to admit it?”
Mixing nuts and balls is clearly a case of a subtitler gone rogue.
Subtitles for a movie should be like that old adage about children – seen but not heard, or draw attention to themselves.
They play an important role in broadening the audience for a work, but they should be subservient to the movie.
At least in The Mysterious Family, there was effort expended on the subtitles, misguided though that line was.
That cannot be said for the awful errors in other films.
In the local horror comedy, The Ghosts Must Be Crazy (2011), a character is described as a “sicklish chicken”. A spellcheck would have revealed that there is no such word as “sicklish”.
The Korean drama, Natali (2011), billed as the first erotic movie shown here in 3D, thrust ungrammatical Mandarin and English subtitles in the audience’s faces rather than sexy shenanigans.
And the Chinese adventure flick, For A Few Bullets (2016), undermined the charms of its rakish leading man Lin Gengxin with subtitles that were rife with errors, including this: “Some warlords forces used violent mechanic to destroying the tomb.”
These films have a production budget, but no one thought it was worth spending some money to get right something as basic as the subtitles.
I am far more forgiving when it comes to fansubs – these are subtitles done by fans for which they are not paid. Even when the English is laboured – as though chunks of dialogue had been dumped into the input column of Google Translate and the results simply copied and pasted from the output column – I am thankful.
After all, without their labour of love, I would not have access to the likes of Thai-language television dramas.
The hard work of these fans is sometimes recognised by the actors themselves and getting that acknowledgement by one’s idols must be such a thrill for them.
On the Facebook page for the Thai drama, Part Time The Series – about university students who work to make ends meet – there is a photo of lead actor Luangsodsai Anupart (also known as Ngern) holding up a handwritten thank-you sign to the subtitles team for the show.
Once in a while, one gets reminded that these amateur subtitlers have lives outside of their time-consuming hobby.
There was a plea – in subtitles in an episode I watched – for viewers not to hound them for new, captioned episodes as they were having exams and that they would get to it when they had the time.
In another show, the subtitler was so involved with the drama that he berated a character for his behaviour in comments generously sprinkled with exclamation marks.
It was like a special DVD running-commentary bonus feature – except that this could not be turned off.
(ST)
Love Off The Cuff
Pang Ho Cheung
The story: In this sequel to Love In A Puff (2010) and Love In The Buff (2012), Jimmy (Shawn Yue) and Cherie (Miriam Yeung) are living together happily. But this state of affairs gets shaken up by the appearance of Jimmy’s “godmother” (Jiang Mengjie), a childhood friend who asks a big favour of him, and also by Cherie’s father (Paul Chun) getting remarried to a younger woman.
Hello again, old friends.
Moviegoers have watched Jimmy and Cherie banter, bicker and fall in and out of love. Five years after their last big-screen outing, it is a pleasure watching them go at it again.
There is quite a bit of fan service here, from the way Cuff opens with a seemingly unrelated story – similar to the earlier two films – to all the references to events that took place previously, such as Cherie’s supposed fling with actor Ekin Cheng, who played himself in part two.
Credit again goes to director and co-writer Pang Ho Cheung for crafting funny and incisive dialogue that makes the characters come alive, whether they are chatting about childhood television memories or Cherie discussing with a friend the problem of white pubic hair.
The characters are lived-in and their situations feel intimately real.
In a way, Jimmy and Cherie keep circling around the same issues: She thinks he is too immature, he does not understand why she makes a big deal of things.
Despite the best of intentions, they do not solve a problem once and for all.
It comes back in different guises in an ongoing relationship and they keep having to work through it.
Still, each time, the characters learn a little more about each other and keep you rooting for them.
In a nice touch, they get good advice from the unlikeliest of people and that seems to be a reflection of the film’s sweet-naturedness – even minor characters are treated with affection.
Yue and Yeung slip so easily into their roles that it is easy to mistake them for Jimmy and Cherie. But make no mistake, this is unaffected acting at its best. (For comparison, see Yue’s contrasting performance in 2016’s Mad World, a moving drama about mental illness.)
Whereas the obstacles in the second instalment seemed too obvious – Jimmy and Cherie were paired with people they were clearly not meant to be with – this time around, they strike closer to home as Cherie faces her deep- rooted fear of abandonment.
The “godmother” subplot is more of a stretch, but it does nudge the couple to think about marriage and children.
At its core, the Jimmy and Cherie series is a traditionally minded romance, one that is believably contemporary and done well with plenty of heart.
(ST)
Pang Ho Cheung
The story: In this sequel to Love In A Puff (2010) and Love In The Buff (2012), Jimmy (Shawn Yue) and Cherie (Miriam Yeung) are living together happily. But this state of affairs gets shaken up by the appearance of Jimmy’s “godmother” (Jiang Mengjie), a childhood friend who asks a big favour of him, and also by Cherie’s father (Paul Chun) getting remarried to a younger woman.
Hello again, old friends.
Moviegoers have watched Jimmy and Cherie banter, bicker and fall in and out of love. Five years after their last big-screen outing, it is a pleasure watching them go at it again.
There is quite a bit of fan service here, from the way Cuff opens with a seemingly unrelated story – similar to the earlier two films – to all the references to events that took place previously, such as Cherie’s supposed fling with actor Ekin Cheng, who played himself in part two.
Credit again goes to director and co-writer Pang Ho Cheung for crafting funny and incisive dialogue that makes the characters come alive, whether they are chatting about childhood television memories or Cherie discussing with a friend the problem of white pubic hair.
The characters are lived-in and their situations feel intimately real.
In a way, Jimmy and Cherie keep circling around the same issues: She thinks he is too immature, he does not understand why she makes a big deal of things.
Despite the best of intentions, they do not solve a problem once and for all.
It comes back in different guises in an ongoing relationship and they keep having to work through it.
Still, each time, the characters learn a little more about each other and keep you rooting for them.
In a nice touch, they get good advice from the unlikeliest of people and that seems to be a reflection of the film’s sweet-naturedness – even minor characters are treated with affection.
Yue and Yeung slip so easily into their roles that it is easy to mistake them for Jimmy and Cherie. But make no mistake, this is unaffected acting at its best. (For comparison, see Yue’s contrasting performance in 2016’s Mad World, a moving drama about mental illness.)
Whereas the obstacles in the second instalment seemed too obvious – Jimmy and Cherie were paired with people they were clearly not meant to be with – this time around, they strike closer to home as Cherie faces her deep- rooted fear of abandonment.
The “godmother” subplot is more of a stretch, but it does nudge the couple to think about marriage and children.
At its core, the Jimmy and Cherie series is a traditionally minded romance, one that is believably contemporary and done well with plenty of heart.
(ST)
Tuesday, May 02, 2017
Death's End
Liu Cixin
Death’s End is a spectacular conclusion to the acclaimed Chinese sci-fi trilogy, Remembrance Of Earth’s Past, by Liu Cixin.
There have been instances where finales have been disappointments after a long and compelling build-up. Not in this case. All the pieces come together and Death’s End is the appropriate culmination to an incredibly inventive and brilliantly imaginative series.
In Death’s End, the aliens from Trisolaris are living in peaceful co-existence with Earth. The Trisolarans were first introduced in the first book, The Three-Body Problem (published in English in 2014). There, the peculiarities of their world, which had three suns, were sketched out.
In the next instalment, The Dark Forest (published in English in 2015), they were charging towards Earth bent on destruction.
In Death’s End, the apparent peace both races enjoy lulls Earth into a false sense of security. But the death of a key character from book two sets in motion a chain of events that leaves humanity in crisis and facing the prospect of colonisation.
The sheer scope of this novel is astounding. In terms of timeline, it stretches from the present era to 17 billion years from the beginning of time. The story takes place on Earth and in the furthest reaches of space.
Such an expanse of time and space is daunting, but Liu gives us a single protagonist to guide us through it all.
New character Chinese aerospace engineer Cheng Xin is the heart of this epic tale as she hops from era to era, barely ageing, thanks to the wonders of hibernation technology.
A decision she makes plunges Earth into peril and the guilt almost crushes her, but she also turns out to be a pivotal figure whose choices the plot hinges on.
The twists and turns of her relationship with her long-time admirer Yun Tianming also have far-ranging consequences for the destiny of humanity.
The pacing is crisp, given the amount of ground the story covers. The reader is hooked on wanting to know the fates of Cheng and Yun, and, well, humankind.
Along the way, one is confronted with intriguing ideas about four-dimensional space and light-speed travel, abstract concepts which Liu makes relevant and urgent in the context of the story.
Impressively, Liu even works in three highly symbolic fairy tales in which clues for Earth’s survival are hidden in plain sight.
This is a rich work packed with ideas and one that continually manages to surprise the reader. On top of which, there are characters here that one grows to care for, people who are flawed and have needs and desires and yet must shoulder the burden of Earth’s survival.
It is the rare writer who can combine hardcore science, memorable characters and compelling storytelling together into such a satisfying whole.
For someone who has read sci-fi exclusively from a Western point of view, Liu’s Asia- and China-centric stories are a breath of fresh air, as is his ability to create strong and complex female characters, such as astrophysicist Ye Wenjie, who initiates contact with Trisolaris in The Three-Body Problem, and Cheng in Death’s End.
His achievement has been recognised with a prestigious Hugo Award for the first book, making him the first Asian to win that accolade. Come August, he could possibly be the first Asian to win that award twice.
(ST)
Liu Cixin
Death’s End is a spectacular conclusion to the acclaimed Chinese sci-fi trilogy, Remembrance Of Earth’s Past, by Liu Cixin.
There have been instances where finales have been disappointments after a long and compelling build-up. Not in this case. All the pieces come together and Death’s End is the appropriate culmination to an incredibly inventive and brilliantly imaginative series.
In Death’s End, the aliens from Trisolaris are living in peaceful co-existence with Earth. The Trisolarans were first introduced in the first book, The Three-Body Problem (published in English in 2014). There, the peculiarities of their world, which had three suns, were sketched out.
In the next instalment, The Dark Forest (published in English in 2015), they were charging towards Earth bent on destruction.
In Death’s End, the apparent peace both races enjoy lulls Earth into a false sense of security. But the death of a key character from book two sets in motion a chain of events that leaves humanity in crisis and facing the prospect of colonisation.
The sheer scope of this novel is astounding. In terms of timeline, it stretches from the present era to 17 billion years from the beginning of time. The story takes place on Earth and in the furthest reaches of space.
Such an expanse of time and space is daunting, but Liu gives us a single protagonist to guide us through it all.
New character Chinese aerospace engineer Cheng Xin is the heart of this epic tale as she hops from era to era, barely ageing, thanks to the wonders of hibernation technology.
A decision she makes plunges Earth into peril and the guilt almost crushes her, but she also turns out to be a pivotal figure whose choices the plot hinges on.
The twists and turns of her relationship with her long-time admirer Yun Tianming also have far-ranging consequences for the destiny of humanity.
The pacing is crisp, given the amount of ground the story covers. The reader is hooked on wanting to know the fates of Cheng and Yun, and, well, humankind.
Along the way, one is confronted with intriguing ideas about four-dimensional space and light-speed travel, abstract concepts which Liu makes relevant and urgent in the context of the story.
Impressively, Liu even works in three highly symbolic fairy tales in which clues for Earth’s survival are hidden in plain sight.
This is a rich work packed with ideas and one that continually manages to surprise the reader. On top of which, there are characters here that one grows to care for, people who are flawed and have needs and desires and yet must shoulder the burden of Earth’s survival.
It is the rare writer who can combine hardcore science, memorable characters and compelling storytelling together into such a satisfying whole.
For someone who has read sci-fi exclusively from a Western point of view, Liu’s Asia- and China-centric stories are a breath of fresh air, as is his ability to create strong and complex female characters, such as astrophysicist Ye Wenjie, who initiates contact with Trisolaris in The Three-Body Problem, and Cheng in Death’s End.
His achievement has been recognised with a prestigious Hugo Award for the first book, making him the first Asian to win that accolade. Come August, he could possibly be the first Asian to win that award twice.
(ST)
Thursday, April 27, 2017
00:00
Yisa Yu
China’s Yisa Yu ventured into singer-songwriter territory on a handful of songs in her last album, Warm Water (2014).
So it is disappointing to find that she has completely relinquished composing and lyric-writing duties to others on her fifth album.
The good news is that her crystalline voice is as lovely as ever and there are a couple of noteworthy tracks here – opening number Revert flows as gently as water in a lazy brook, while Solitude Again is a dramatic ballad which Yu navigates with aplomb.
Elevator is a slice-of-life track that touches on the ups and downs of urban romances. With a light touch, Yu sings the observant lyrics by singer-songwriter Jin Wenqi: “A newly married couple has moved in on the seventh floor/We met yesterday in the lift/He didn’t hear her sighing.”
Maybe she could take things to the next level with a return to songwriting on her next record.
(ST)
Yisa Yu
China’s Yisa Yu ventured into singer-songwriter territory on a handful of songs in her last album, Warm Water (2014).
So it is disappointing to find that she has completely relinquished composing and lyric-writing duties to others on her fifth album.
The good news is that her crystalline voice is as lovely as ever and there are a couple of noteworthy tracks here – opening number Revert flows as gently as water in a lazy brook, while Solitude Again is a dramatic ballad which Yu navigates with aplomb.
Elevator is a slice-of-life track that touches on the ups and downs of urban romances. With a light touch, Yu sings the observant lyrics by singer-songwriter Jin Wenqi: “A newly married couple has moved in on the seventh floor/We met yesterday in the lift/He didn’t hear her sighing.”
Maybe she could take things to the next level with a return to songwriting on her next record.
(ST)
Wednesday, April 19, 2017
Still Missing
Jia Jia
Taiwanese singer Jia Jia’s soulful voice is a thing of beauty.
She could have stuck to singing love ballads and everyone would be perfectly happy. Instead, she throws a curveball early on in this album with See Through, a number by singer-songwriter William Wei which juxtaposes a destructive relationship with a jaunty piano accompaniment. “If you want to hurt me, I won’t hide/A person who has given up can’t be hurt,” she sings.
Not to worry though, ballads are not completely missing from the album.
On the title track written by singer-songwriter Hush, Jia Jia conveys the tender pain of missing an old lover and the closeness they once shared: “More people have forgotten about you and worry about me instead/Forgetting that I am you.”
She also touches on familial love with an ode to her late mother on the album closer, She Was Beautiful.
(ST)
Jia Jia
Taiwanese singer Jia Jia’s soulful voice is a thing of beauty.
She could have stuck to singing love ballads and everyone would be perfectly happy. Instead, she throws a curveball early on in this album with See Through, a number by singer-songwriter William Wei which juxtaposes a destructive relationship with a jaunty piano accompaniment. “If you want to hurt me, I won’t hide/A person who has given up can’t be hurt,” she sings.
Not to worry though, ballads are not completely missing from the album.
On the title track written by singer-songwriter Hush, Jia Jia conveys the tender pain of missing an old lover and the closeness they once shared: “More people have forgotten about you and worry about me instead/Forgetting that I am you.”
She also touches on familial love with an ode to her late mother on the album closer, She Was Beautiful.
(ST)
The Mysterious Family
Park Yu Hwan
The story: Miaomiao (Ariel Lin) is psychologically scarred after surviving a brutal attack by a stranger (Blue Lan). She refuses to speak to her family and shuts out the world by concentrating on training for a marathon. On Christmas Eve, her mother (Kara Hui) urges her to return home early for dinner with her father (Jiang Wu) and brother (Chen Xiao). Miaomiao later learns that a serial killer is on the loose that very day.
An unreliable protagonist. A looping narrative. A villain who keeps turning up like one’s worst nightmare. In more assured hands, these elements could have made for a compelling thriller.
But Korean writer-director Park Yu Hwan delivers only an overworked and overwrought movie that is more confusing than mysterious. (Do not mistake Park, who helmed the Chinese-language thriller Memento Mori (2016), for the idol actor Park Yoo Hwan, who starred in She Was Pretty (2015).)
Is there something diabolical going on? Are we being fed a steady stream of red herrings? And how trustworthy is Miaomiao anyway?
Unfortunately, the question becomes “Do we care?” at some point as the assembled cast, including China’s Jiang (To Live, 1994) and Hong Kong’s Hui (Rigor Mortis, 2013), is both underused and misused.
There is a point here about how one should not box oneself in after a traumatic episode, but it is buried late in the movie. And to get there, one has to sit through scenes of Lin howling in frustration – you might be tempted to do the same.
(ST)
Park Yu Hwan
The story: Miaomiao (Ariel Lin) is psychologically scarred after surviving a brutal attack by a stranger (Blue Lan). She refuses to speak to her family and shuts out the world by concentrating on training for a marathon. On Christmas Eve, her mother (Kara Hui) urges her to return home early for dinner with her father (Jiang Wu) and brother (Chen Xiao). Miaomiao later learns that a serial killer is on the loose that very day.
An unreliable protagonist. A looping narrative. A villain who keeps turning up like one’s worst nightmare. In more assured hands, these elements could have made for a compelling thriller.
But Korean writer-director Park Yu Hwan delivers only an overworked and overwrought movie that is more confusing than mysterious. (Do not mistake Park, who helmed the Chinese-language thriller Memento Mori (2016), for the idol actor Park Yoo Hwan, who starred in She Was Pretty (2015).)
Is there something diabolical going on? Are we being fed a steady stream of red herrings? And how trustworthy is Miaomiao anyway?
Unfortunately, the question becomes “Do we care?” at some point as the assembled cast, including China’s Jiang (To Live, 1994) and Hong Kong’s Hui (Rigor Mortis, 2013), is both underused and misused.
There is a point here about how one should not box oneself in after a traumatic episode, but it is buried late in the movie. And to get there, one has to sit through scenes of Lin howling in frustration – you might be tempted to do the same.
(ST)
Shock Wave
Herman Yau
The story: In an undercover mission, special agent Cheung (Andy Lau) takes down criminal Biao, but Biao’s mastermind elder brother Blast (Jiang Wu) escapes. Seven years later, Cheung has risen up the ranks in the Explosive Ordnance Disposal Bureau. Blast exacts his revenge by holding several hundred people hostage as he threatens to blow up Hong Kong’s vital traffic artery, the Cross-Harbour Tunnel.
The villain who likes to blow things up is called Blast.
That is an indication of how subtle things get in this, well, bombastic crime thriller from writer-director Herman Yau, whose varied body of work includes Cat III exploitation flick Ebola Syndrome (1996) and award-winning drama True Women For Sale (2008). The hero here is self-sacrificing and saintly, played with a certain smugness by Lau – which means that Cheung is not particularly interesting as the protagonist.
He gets a girlfriend early on, not so much to humanise him, but to have the damsel placed in distress.
Cheung is so macho that he does not even put on a protective suit while attempting to defuse a particular bomb because he reasons that the blast force would be too powerful anyway (by that logic, he might as well wear a T-shirt and shorts for his assignments).
The main event of the tunnel hostage situation is played out over an hour.
Yau draws out the tension as the clock ticks, Jiang chews up the scenery as Blast and the prospect of the tunnel getting destroyed looms.
On the whole, though, this is a workman-like and heavy-handed effort that is unlikely to knock anyone’s socks off.
(ST)
Herman Yau
The story: In an undercover mission, special agent Cheung (Andy Lau) takes down criminal Biao, but Biao’s mastermind elder brother Blast (Jiang Wu) escapes. Seven years later, Cheung has risen up the ranks in the Explosive Ordnance Disposal Bureau. Blast exacts his revenge by holding several hundred people hostage as he threatens to blow up Hong Kong’s vital traffic artery, the Cross-Harbour Tunnel.
The villain who likes to blow things up is called Blast.
That is an indication of how subtle things get in this, well, bombastic crime thriller from writer-director Herman Yau, whose varied body of work includes Cat III exploitation flick Ebola Syndrome (1996) and award-winning drama True Women For Sale (2008). The hero here is self-sacrificing and saintly, played with a certain smugness by Lau – which means that Cheung is not particularly interesting as the protagonist.
He gets a girlfriend early on, not so much to humanise him, but to have the damsel placed in distress.
Cheung is so macho that he does not even put on a protective suit while attempting to defuse a particular bomb because he reasons that the blast force would be too powerful anyway (by that logic, he might as well wear a T-shirt and shorts for his assignments).
The main event of the tunnel hostage situation is played out over an hour.
Yau draws out the tension as the clock ticks, Jiang chews up the scenery as Blast and the prospect of the tunnel getting destroyed looms.
On the whole, though, this is a workman-like and heavy-handed effort that is unlikely to knock anyone’s socks off.
(ST)
Wednesday, April 12, 2017
My Name
Jocie Guo
Jocie Guo Meimei is back to claim her name.
The Singaporean singer’s career had stalled in China, where she was mistaken for the notorious charged-with-illegal-gambling blogger Guo Meimei, to the extent that people thought that her big hit No More Panic (2005) had been performed by the Internet celebrity.
Perhaps because of that sobering experience, the singer seems more grown-up now. She still sounds sweet, but she has ditched the cutesy hits such as Mouse Loves Rice (2005) in favour of forlorn love ballads with titles including One Hundred Reasons To Be Alone and Loneliness.
She sings on Blue Sky Tears: “Don’t say, black and white, rumours are vicious/Who says, right and wrong, hearts will shatter.”
While Keep Going might be a love ballad, it contains an epiphany that she could well have gleaned from the sorry episode: “Time waits for no one/I’ll just keep going alone.”
(ST)
Jocie Guo
Jocie Guo Meimei is back to claim her name.
The Singaporean singer’s career had stalled in China, where she was mistaken for the notorious charged-with-illegal-gambling blogger Guo Meimei, to the extent that people thought that her big hit No More Panic (2005) had been performed by the Internet celebrity.
Perhaps because of that sobering experience, the singer seems more grown-up now. She still sounds sweet, but she has ditched the cutesy hits such as Mouse Loves Rice (2005) in favour of forlorn love ballads with titles including One Hundred Reasons To Be Alone and Loneliness.
She sings on Blue Sky Tears: “Don’t say, black and white, rumours are vicious/Who says, right and wrong, hearts will shatter.”
While Keep Going might be a love ballad, it contains an epiphany that she could well have gleaned from the sorry episode: “Time waits for no one/I’ll just keep going alone.”
(ST)
Wednesday, April 05, 2017
Extraordinary Mission
Alan Mak, Anthony Pun
The story: Lin Kai (Huang Xuan) is an undercover cop trying to get to the heart of the heroin-smuggling business. He finds his way to the ruthless Eagle (Duan Yihong), whom Lin’s handler Li Jianguo (Zu Feng) suspects is the same drug lord he had tried to bring down 10 years ago in an operation which went sour.
Tapping out messages on a mobile phone in Morse code was used to great effect in the Hong Kong crime thriller trilogy Infernal Affairs (2002-2003).
Alan Mak (co-director and co- writer) and Felix Chong (co-writer) liked the idea so much that they cribbed it for Extraordinary Mission, which Chong scripted and Mak co-directed with Anthony Pun.
But it is executed here lazily and in a throwaway manner that does not do the idea justice. At least they did not call this Infernal Affairs 4, the way director Jeffrey Lau slapped on A Chinese Odyssey Part Three (2016) to be an unworthy follow-up to a beloved series.
While it is not Infernal Affairs good, Extraordinary Mission is mostly quite engaging.
Huang (The Legend Of Mi Yue, 2015) makes for a compelling supercop who can pull off riding a motorcycle inside a building and on rooftops with panache.
The film-makers carefully weave a web of intense relationships around his character – Lin, Eagle, Li and Li’s partner Zhang Haitao, who was assumed to have perished in that botched operation.
Will Li’s sense of loyalty to Zhang lead him to put his subordinate in danger? Are Lin’s sacrifices, including getting shot up with drugs, worth it? What exactly does Eagle want?
Having set all this up, the movie then works itself into a corner and has no choice but to shoot its way out. The climactic gun battle is the kind where the vastly outnumbered good guys always find their targets while the bad guys seem to be shooting in a fog while blindfolded.
(ST)
Alan Mak, Anthony Pun
The story: Lin Kai (Huang Xuan) is an undercover cop trying to get to the heart of the heroin-smuggling business. He finds his way to the ruthless Eagle (Duan Yihong), whom Lin’s handler Li Jianguo (Zu Feng) suspects is the same drug lord he had tried to bring down 10 years ago in an operation which went sour.
Tapping out messages on a mobile phone in Morse code was used to great effect in the Hong Kong crime thriller trilogy Infernal Affairs (2002-2003).
Alan Mak (co-director and co- writer) and Felix Chong (co-writer) liked the idea so much that they cribbed it for Extraordinary Mission, which Chong scripted and Mak co-directed with Anthony Pun.
But it is executed here lazily and in a throwaway manner that does not do the idea justice. At least they did not call this Infernal Affairs 4, the way director Jeffrey Lau slapped on A Chinese Odyssey Part Three (2016) to be an unworthy follow-up to a beloved series.
While it is not Infernal Affairs good, Extraordinary Mission is mostly quite engaging.
Huang (The Legend Of Mi Yue, 2015) makes for a compelling supercop who can pull off riding a motorcycle inside a building and on rooftops with panache.
The film-makers carefully weave a web of intense relationships around his character – Lin, Eagle, Li and Li’s partner Zhang Haitao, who was assumed to have perished in that botched operation.
Will Li’s sense of loyalty to Zhang lead him to put his subordinate in danger? Are Lin’s sacrifices, including getting shot up with drugs, worth it? What exactly does Eagle want?
Having set all this up, the movie then works itself into a corner and has no choice but to shoot its way out. The climactic gun battle is the kind where the vastly outnumbered good guys always find their targets while the bad guys seem to be shooting in a fog while blindfolded.
(ST)
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