A propensity in the media to see Taiwan as little more than a piece on a geopolitical chessboard fails to do justice to its thriving society, and to its arts – especially the striking films produced in recent decades.  The single-dimensional nature of that coverage is something to bear in mind, as talk of war intensifies.         

The New Wave

Taiwanese cinema enjoyed a striking cinematic “new wave” in the late 1980s, after the lifting of martial law in 1987.   That shift allowed for a flourishing of film, alongside other arts, which has assisted in alleviating “historical amnesia” about the island’s conflicted past, and in forging Taiwan today. 

Most famous, perhaps, was Hou Hsiao-hsien’s (侯孝賢) A City of Sadness (悲情城市), which drew attention to the 228 Incident, of 28 February 1947, when an abortive uprising resulted in KMT forces under Governor Chen Yi (陳儀) slaughtering tens of thousands of Taiwanese.   That film relies on silence, and absence, to highlight personal loss, and is notable, too, for its beautifully-framed long takes.   

A City of Sadness also captures the chorus of dialects spoken in Taiwan, so celebrating variety.  Indeed, one scene involves gangsters in negotiations shifting rapidly between Cantonese, Shanghainese and Taiwanese, in a patchwork of lack-of-comprehension.   

Edward Yang

Another director of this era was Edward Yang Dechang (楊德昌).  Edward Yang differed from Hou Hsiao-hsien, though, in that he studied film in the US (Hou Hsiao-hsien rose through the domestic film industry), and in that his films are almost all in Mandarin. 

Edward Yang’s most confronting film is perhaps The Terrorizers (恐怖分子) (1986), which tackles alienation in modern Taipei. 

That film offers up a network narrative involving various characters – a woman embarking on an affair as a means to find inspiration for her novel; her husband, a doctor who unjustly blackens the name of a colleague so as to advance his career; a young woman, who escapes a shootout with police, and works to entrap and rob “Johns”; and a photographer who becomes fixated on the young woman. 

The film weaves these narratives into a coherent whole, and then presents the audience with a frightening, if somewhat unclear, climax.  The film fundamentally concentrates on themes of alienation, presenting Taipei as an urban machine that drives people towards amorality and violence. 

Yi Yi

The Terrorizers differs hugely from Edward Yang’s last film, though, which is Yi Yi (一一) (2000).  Here, Edward Yang seems to have lost his cynicism, producing instead one of the most delightful celebrations of life on the screen.

Yi Yi tells the story of a middle-class family in Taipei, which Edward Yang said was a mechanism by which he could explore all aspects of life. 

The elderly grandmother’s stroke touches on ageing and death; the father, NJ, explores the disappointments of work, and, when he meets an old girlfriend, alternative paths not taken; his wife, Minmin, queries the seeming emptiness of her life, and seeks spiritual solace; the teenage daughter, Tingting, embarks on her first love; and the young boy, Yangyang, is still learning about the world. 

The film is an intensely humane affair, never judging, but rather depicting events with humour and sympathy.  It is also philosophical, albeit without overburdening the story.  Of particular note is a Japanese businessman called Oto, who sets out a gentle perspective on fear of the unknown. 

Another striking scene comes when Yangyang addresses the great unknowns, in an incredibly touching speech at a funeral.  Somehow, the child addresses major questions of life and death with greater sensibility than his elders can manage. 

The film is also a thing-of-beauty.  In particular, Edward Yang makes frequent use of reflections in windows, or views through glass, often with the characters standing behind.  His doing so captures their loneliness, but with empathy, and not the harshness discernible in The Terrorizers.

Taiwan today

Edward Yang’s journey, then, and that of Taiwan’s New Wave cinema, seems to embody something of modern Taiwan, in terms of its path from the brutal dictatorship of Chiang Kai-shek, to the humane, vibrant democracy that it is today. 

These films also draw attention to how the current propensity in the media to see Taiwan merely as a piece on a geopolitical chessboard fails to do justice to its thriving society – and to its arts.    

That is perhaps something to remember, as talk of war intensifies.