Let middle aged women shine !!
I won’t go into the flaws of this drama that others have already pointed out - such as the implausibility of the FL’s character, the monotonous acting, or the distracted screenwriting style.Instead, I’m interested in The Glory's double edged sword: its treatment of female relationships.
The drama’s strength is, without a doubt, Haiyan’s relationship with her mother: the beautifully cast Wen Zheng Rong. The mother/daughter connection is first presented as a deep emotional knot waiting to be untied over thirty episodes. From her first frames in episode one, Wen Zheng Rong is the strongest presence on screen (with kudos to the costume and makeup department who went above and beyond the brief). Mother figures in historical C-dramas are often depicted as either wicked and cunning or self-sacrificing, willing to do anything to protect their offspring. At first, thanks to some intricate unknotting in the relationship between mother and daughter, it looked like The Glory might break from convention. Unfortunately (without going into spoilers), it was not to be.
The other strength of the drama - albeit a fleeting one - is the subtextual GL relationship between Hanyan and Chai Jing. I was really hoping that I could live in my self-deluded fantasy where they could pursue their unspoken romance while the ML/FL relationship took its lavender-scented course. Alas, my fantasy crashed out a lot earlier than I was expecting.
Which brings me to the flip side of the coin. Surprisingly, I don’t think the ML is the drama’s weakness. The FL/ML relationship is, for the most part, one of mutually beneficial transaction. The ML has red flags, but no more than the FL does. And he’s not the one who destroys the aforementioned relationships between Hanyan and the two key women in her life. The writers are the guilty party.
[Admittedly there is a tiny spoiler in the paragraph below]
The writers find pretexts to remove the FL from her two close relationships with women, leaving her isolated. Unlike the FL in Story of Pearl Girl, for example, the FL in The Glory has no commercial traits that would provide her with financial independence. And thus the historical setting matched with the plot-driven isolation means she turns to the ML as a source of material support (because it’s hard to pursue revenge without food in your belly and a roof over your head). The ML therefore doesn’t need to rely on coercive methods - such as the blackmail marriage trope - because the broader plot effectively does it for him.
When the FL goes on her spree of neoliberal feminist campaigning in middle episodes, it comes across flat and hollow. By this point in the series, the writers have forbidden her from developing deep women/women relationships (romantic or platonic) and unlike other dramas of this genre, she doesn’t even have a close relationship with her maidservants.
Honestly, I could’ve given this a lower star rating. Fortunately, the show is somewhat redeemed thanks to He Hong Shan - who is a delight, as always - and Wen Zheng Rong (100000%). If nothing else, watch it for her. She steals the show.
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A thrill ride into an overlooked story
I'll be the first to admit I know very little about the Pacific Theatre of WWII. This may seem surprising given australia's geographical proximity and involvement in the fighting, but most of our nationalistic myth-making leans more into the WWI imagery than WWII.And as much as I would like to say a curiosity in history was the reason I chose to watch Dongji Rescue, I'd be lying. I was 98% there for the cast. And damn, did they deliver.
I didn't even recognise Zhu Yi Long, even though I finished a third re-watch of the Story of Minglan earlier this year. Boy, does he have range! Same goes for Wu Lei, who I've seen in a few things, but I felt like couldn't quite shake the child actor background until now. Yet despite their stellar performances, Ni Ni takes the cake. Her character doesn't feature much until the latter half of the movie, but from therein she steals the show.
The storyline is a classic thriller style, mixed with the usual tropes of Chinese films set in this era. Like every Cdrama, the white characters are super cringe. Thankfully, their parts are kept relatively short, and only one pom sticks around long enough to get a name. There seem to be two thematic strands in the movie: the moral obligation to save lives, and the fraternal bond between the male protagonists. The first is executed well, but the latter suffers with the movie focussing more on plot progression than character development.
With that in mind, I think they could've chopped out Ni Da Hong's character altogether. He was simply one character too many and didn't really do much other than give Ni Ni's character substance. Not that her character needed it. She had depth after just a few seconds on screen. The other drag for me was a couple of scenes that verged a bit too close to melodrama. Combined with the cringe poms, they did take me out of the film quite a lot.
That said, the underwater and on-water shooting was the best I've ever seen. I would love to see behind-the-scenes footage of how that was achieved because, in spite of my mild thalassophobia and claustrophobia, my eyes were glued to the screen.
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Misleading advertising
This is not a revenge drama. It's a highly contrived romance that uses revenge as it's major pretext. So let's get that out of the way first.Eve is a deeply frustrating watch. Just when you think you might be able to get somewhere interesting, the next episode makes you feel like you've been taken out on a bad date and forced to pay the bill. Hands down, I 100% agree with bad lilies' review and will add three things:
1) Our FL is understandably a bit upset about her dad being violently murdered in front of her as a child and therefore decides to take revenge on the perpetrators. I, on the other hand, am not upset.
The dad is a CEO killed by another CEO-type. And as someone who is very much Team Luigi Mangione, I honestly don't see her dad's death as a great loss. I feel no sense of injustice. I therefore have no investment in the emotional thrust of the revenge.
However, I would've liked to have heard more from her fellow partner in revenge - whose ire seemed to be rooted in workers' struggle rather than purely interpersonal issues - but that would've required good writing and the producers didn't seem to want that.
2) For some reason, our ML was only allowed a quota of ONE facial expression for the entire series except for the last couple of episodes where I counted THREE whole facial expressions. I had no emotional investment in him as the love interest because he was a CEO (ick), dull (ick), and wayyyyy older than the FL (ick, unless you play your cards right).
Also let middle aged people be normal middle aged people?? There's no need for such a heavy handed face filter or to insist on your actor being SUPER jacked. Plz just let him have a normal dad bod! It's ok!
3) The kids were the best part of this drama. I hope they had a fun time. The end.
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Souls trapped in the human realm, unable to move on
As much as I hate to admit it, it was the movie adaption of John Green's The Fault in our Stars that taught me, "Funerals... are not for the dead. They are for the living."From watching the trailer, I thought this film would be presented in clashes of dichotomies: death vs life, tradition vs modernity, religion vs industry. And while all these themes do surface in the film, they don't do so as mutually exclusive dichotomies. Instead, the richness of The Last Dance comes from the intersections and overlap of these themes.
The story structure itself is neat. There are three parts and the narrative comes fulls circle, starting and ending with the Taoist funeral ritual of Breaking Hell's Gate. The cinematography of the ritual scenes alone could carry the film if needed. But the bulk of the film is what provides the emotional impact of these scenes.
The strength of this film is its messiness. And the messiness is found at the intersections. Tradition and modernity don't so much clash with one another as grasp out to one another, trying to find purchase, albeit sometimes in awkward or painful ways. This doesn't only play out in the funeral home between the male leads. The friction and fondness also happens within the family home as the characters try to figure out how religion features in their own identities and how it impacts their relationships with one another. There is also just enough wry humour – mostly from Dayo Wong's character – to provide breathing space (pun intended).
Unsurprisingly, there is a lot of death in this film. Despite the music being a tad heavy-handed at times, these are emotionally deep touch points. Each death progresses the narrative and also reveals some new aspect to the intersecting themes of the film.
To bring this review back to full circle, The Last Dance itself is for the living. Perhaps this is why we don't ever get to see any of the deceased characters on screen alive. The film is *about* the living because it is *for* the living. After all, no one gets to see their own funeral.
NB: "Souls trapped in the human realm / Unable to move on" are the translated lyrics of Terence Lam's song 普渡眾生 which plays during the credits.
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Inspiring sports film? Nuh-uh, this is a political drama, baby
Did I know anything about sumo before watching Sanctuary? No. Was I even notionally interested in sumo beforehand? Not at all. Did I binge all six hours of this series in one go? Absolutely.Our protagonist, Oze, becomes a sumo wrestler so he can financially support his dad. He has no emotional investment in sumo nor respect for its traditions and thus is quickly marked as a troublemaker. But don't let the premise mislead you: the sport should not be taken at face value. The power politics of the wrestlers and the vested interests means this series has just as much intrigue as a political drama. It's also just incredibly deeply and darkly funny.
Combine complex power dynamics, high end production (those slow-mo shots are *chefs kiss*), impressive character development, and you find yourself deeply sucked into the rich world of Sanctuary. The episode length times put me off from watching this at an earlier date, but when I did finally hit play, ohhh boy. The plot raced me through all eight episodes in one day,
That said, I can't give a full 10/10. At one stage, the series does teeter dangerously close to cheesy sports movie territory. Despite opinions expressed in other reviews, I think the ending worked well and redeemed the series from its brief foray into inspo-porn.
So yes, I highly recommend giving this series a shot. The blurb doesn't do it justice. I'll end this with a note on Ichinose Wataru's stellar performance. I'd seen him in a support role in the film, The Village, and was disappointed that he didn't get more screen time – his talent seemed so much larger than his character. With Sanctuary, his acting skills are on full display and he's a wonder to watch. Brilliant work.
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Larger-than-life tragedy about... work health and safety?
Yuu, when we first meet him, is in a state of misery. He works at his village's mega waste facility as a garbage sorter by day and illegal waste dumper by night, coerced into the work due to his mother's gambling addiction. His life takes a turn for the better when his childhood friend, Misaki, moves back to the town. The two share a love of Noh: an important tradition in the village.From the start, the stakes are clear: environmental destruction, worker exposure to deadly hazards, and deep corruption among local authorities. In many respects, this film could have been a documentary. The tale it tells is one currently happening around the world.
But to avoid banality and hitting too close to home, the film's creators have opted for a larger-than-life tragedy approach to the story. The result is a high quality production with beautiful cinematography, especially the shots focussing on the Noh tradition of the village. Unfortunately, this comes at a cost to narrative cohesion, character development, and pacing.
The split focus of The Village means it ultimately fails to pack a punch. While it does have a strong tragedy element that explores the morally ambiguous nature of coerced labour, the supporting characters are just a little too underdeveloped to make it work. Maybe give this reel a sharp edit and try again.
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A perpetual coming of age
Honestly, I'm still not 100% sold on whether one can really call Ainu Mosir a coming-of-age film. It follows teen Kanto as they try to figure out their Ainu identity. Yet, I would argue, this has very little to do with the childhood-to-adult convention of usual coming-of-age stories. Or, perhaps, that the age distinction is simply irrelevant.Kanto is far from the only one in the Ainu village community who is struggling with their identity. Debo, for an adult example, struggles in his own way with his Ainu identity, He expresses his uncertainty even as he tries to impress on Kanto the importance of being Ainu. Arguably, Debo too is undergoing a coming-of-age process.
What this film does well is sit in discomfort. I agree with JennyStuckOnThatRooftop's review in that I believe this film refrains from "judging". However, I don't think it's offering social commentary per se. It's more observational in its style and while there is certainly deliberate framing at play, I wouldn't go as far to say that's it editorialising. Instead, it allows for messy nuances and seeming contradictions to unravel on screen.
Sure, it's a quiet film as far as dialogue is concerned. But I found it noisy viewing: you can clearly hear the characters' thoughts among the rainfall or the crunch of snow. No one seems to really know their place in the world but they exist regardless.
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Eehhhhh
Look, it's a cute idea. But I think if you want to watch a good crime/fairytale blend, you're better off watching Hoodwinked (2005).Once Upon a Crime is a whodunnit lazily mashed together with a Disney-esque Cinderella story (I'm referring the animated one, not the kickass Whitney Houston one). The characters have no depth, nor is the world-building overly creative. I don't mind a bit of oddball humour but it ended up being annoying.
It's a shame. I think if the creators had thought outside the box a bit, this could've been decent. I got bored and dropped it around 30min in.
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Would you like a side of class commentary with that?
The social criticism of this film is about as subtle as, well... plonking a massive rack of meat on a table and calling it a "sacrificial feast" for your wealthy onlookers.On the one hand, Hunger bangs you over the head with a wok while screaming, "rich people are evil" (facts) and asks you to maybe go touch some grass. On the other hand, it undercuts its own attempts at class commentary by erasing nuance and thereby failing to really contribute anything insightful.
I think if you want to watch something that leans more into the power dynamics and social criticism but still centres on food, I'd recommend The Platform (2019, Spanish).
That said, the production quality of the Hunger is top tier. It's worth watching purely for some of the cinematographic moments. The soundtrack is strong as well. Though I would've liked more of those jazz elements from the opening scenes to have been used later in the film too.
It may look like a long run time but it goes fast. Terrific pacing means this one is an easy watch for a Friday or Saturday night. Best served with the cheapest cook-up or takeaway you can muster.
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This review may contain spoilers
Awful
That's not to say the film-making is awful. But this story will devastate you.**CW: domestic violence, rape**
If you're not one yourself, you would likely be well aware of the intensity that comes with being a true fangirl. In this case, Jane is a typical pop fangirl, willing to go to extreme lengths to be in the presence of her idol, Paulo. She attends a fan event and semi-accidentally ends up in the back of Paulo's ute. He starts driving home, unaware of his passenger.
Paulo's public-facing mask slips quickly but it takes more than a couple of uncouth moments for Jane's fantasy to falter. With Jane trying to play adult, even after Paulo reveals his true character at home, events spiral into darkness. The contrast between the idol she revered and the mundane man before her is shattering.
Now, it's at this point where I feel iffy about this film. Paulo rapes Jane. And while it may not look like it on the surface, this is the point of rupture for Jane.
If you've ever had even passing knowledge of pop idol stans, you would know that sexual fantasies play an important (even if not always outrightly acknowledged) role in a lot of fan culture. The online proliferation of fan-created smut is testimony.
Consequently, we fully expect that Jane has had similar fantasies around sleeping with her idolised image of Paulo. The rupture occurs because when the encounter does happen in real life, it's literally and metaphorically a painful departure from the daydreams.
The rape scene also marks a turning point in Jane's own character development for the final part of the film. It's after this stage that she starts identifying Paulo's abusive behaviour with that of her mother's abusive partner.
I'm iffy about the rape scene because I'm not sure the full gratuity was necessary. However, I don't think censoring it would've really helped so perhaps it does have a place.
In light of the ambivalent ending of the film – (which I liked, with it's cynicism or hope, depending on how you read it) – the story would've likely have packed a bit less of a punch.
I was absolutely wrecked when I first finished this film and originally tried to forget it. But now that a bit of time has passed and I've rewatched the ending, I think it's brutality is its selling point.
It's a reminder as to why we use idol fandom as a form of escapism in the first place. The sweet manufactured nature of pop culture appeals because it's so remote from real life. Who wouldn't jump in the back of their idol's car when given the chance?
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A meta blend of fiction and documentary
Or as Peter Bradshaw, writing for The Guardian, put it: "Buddhist supernatural realism".By the Time It Gets Dark has a clear point of departure: The 1976 Thammasat University massacre. The film draws its initial reflections from the few photographs available from the time, before spending the rest of the film shifting between gaps, silences and layers around and beyond the historical event.
The majority of By the Time It Gets Dark follows the journey of the film-making itself. Not in a behind-the-scenes way, but the struggle of the craft in attempt to convey meaning. It's self-reflexive while, at the same time, not shunning the audience. Don't worry, this isn't one of those arthouse films that experiments for the sake of self-indulgence. You can sense the creators' desire to grapple with the 1976 massacre while struggling to develop and articulate its meanings on multiple levels.
It's not trying too hard, nor is it a chore to watch. When you take this film for what it is, you're able to appreciate it more.
When Ben Kenigsberg from the New York Times said if there couldn't be explanations, then at least there should be "footnotes" and that it'll go over the heads of those not "in sync", I think it's important to note that being "in sync" is besides the point. The visual glitches and play with colour saturation near the end of the film show that that even the creators themselves aren't "in sync" with what is being (or not being) represented.
I don't have this film figured out and you're not meant to. By the Time It Gets Dark is one of those artworks, like poetry, where, if you're trying to figure out what it's 'saying', then you're misunderstanding its existence. If it lingers, then that is sufficient.
Peter Bradshaw's Guardian Review: https://www.theguardian.com/film/2017/jun/16/by-time-gets-dark-review-bangkok-protests-massacre-anocha-suwichakornpong
Ben Kenigsberg's NYT review: https://www.nytimes.com/2017/04/13/movies/by-the-time-it-gets-dark-review.html
Mark Kermode's Guardian Review (I find his reading to be more generous): https://www.theguardian.com/film/2017/jun/18/by-the-time-it-gets-dark-film-review-dazzling-reflections-thai-history
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Just as problematic as the Taiwanese original :/
Ok so I only watched this because I watched the original Taiwanese versions so many times (which I think I only ever really liked because it was the first Mando-language drama I ever watched). I was really hoping they wouldn't repeat the same ultra problematic coercive control theme for this version, but they have. To more or less the exact same degree as the original which is a shame (and hence the low rating).Otherwise, I do feel like this version has a couple of things going for it. First, I am so grateful they changed the story timeline for this version. Because holy moly, the amount of flashback scenes in the original Taiwanese version was incredibly jarring and confusing. This version tells the story more or less chronologically which has saved a lot of grief.
Second, I liked how Ou Chen was written in this version compared to the Taiwanese. No shade on Peter Ho, I think this was a case of scripting rather than acting. Personally I found this version of Ou Chen a lot more believable than the Taiwanese one. He's also a bit more likeable/human in this version because has his business partners alongside him (rather than the Taiwanese version who was a clear loner).
Luo Xi's character I found more or less on par with the original. Other reviews noted that he seems to be younger in this version but if anything, I think that actually might work better in explaining his character's level of immaturity.
I know I said in my review of the Taiwanese version that Barbie Hsu was a bit lacklustre as Xia Mo compared to other roles she's done. But that said, the one thing she did get spot-on was the 'ice princess' side to Xia Mo's character profile. I found Zhang Xue Ying to be a solid all-rounder though without any real stand out moments.
A couple of things I was really disappointed by were, first, a secondary love story that did exist in the Taiwanese one but only as subtext (not being specific to avoid spoilers). Honestly, it should've stayed as subtext because I skipped most of that storyline in this version of the drama. Second, the music in this version was pretty poor compared to the Taiwanese version. The key difference there is that Barbie Hsu and Peter Ho are professional singers and so were able to contribute their voices.
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Graphic war film with a focus on photography
Dead to Rights is a traditional war film. War movies are not my usual cup of tea, but as a photographer myself, I was interested in the photographic element of the story.Honestly, there’s a lot I could say about this film but won’t, because that critique is more of war films as a genre rather than anything special about Dead to Rights. The only thing I will note here before talking about the photography element of the storyline, is that I believe accusations of propaganda against this film are a bit redundant. All war films are propaganda. It doesn’t matter whether you’re watching Dead to Rights or Gallipoli, you can’t expect the genre to have no political motive.*
The initial drawcard for me was how Dead to Rights depicted the use of photography in war and atrocities. A lot of films I’ve watched that feature photographer characters normally position them as a truth-teller. One example that comes to mind given its narrative similarities is The Photographer of Mauthausen (Spanish, 2018) which tells the story of real-life Spanish concentration camp prisoner, Francois Boix, who took photographs at the camp, the negatives of which he hid until liberation and were ultimately used to prosecute the Nazis.
Dead to Rights was a little different because, while it had a photography-as-truth protagonist, it also used the Japanese military photographer as a foil. Although not delicately handled, I at least appreciated that the film attempted to go beyond the usual narrative of photography-as-truth. Even the Chinese characters seemed less interested in journalistic style documentation**, and more so in using the photographs as an act of resistance.
But all in all, I think the film did ultimately fall back on the simplistic photography-as-truth trope. It was made clear that scenes in the film were derived from the photographic archive of the Nanjing massacre. This also meant that that the film ended up trapped, I suspect willingly, in a paradox that Susan Sontag describes of war photography:
“The photograph gives mixed signals. Stop this, it urges. But it also exclaims, What a spectacle!”
—
*Of course, propaganda films aren’t just limited to war films, although this genre is one of the more blatant forms.
**I should mention that, citing Sontag again, war photography as critical documentation – rather than as morale-boosting PR – didn’t really come into the fore until the Vietnam War.
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Lawful Good types are the worst
Di Renjie is your typical cop/detective protagonist archetype – a dude who says they want to deliver justice for the everyday person – but then spends a lot of time faffing around and being a pain in the arse because they unwaveringly stick to their belief in the law. This is also makes him very, very dull.That's not to say the series doesn't have a couple of good moments. But my goodness, this made excellent watching to help me get to sleep. The pacing is slow. All the characters are underdeveloped. The visual production is nice but the audio was constantly having a bad hair day.
And all in all, am I really meant to like Di Renjie as a character? For someone that cluey, he never does seem to figure out that the law and justice actually don't really have much in common. And yet he's doggedly dedicated to be, well, a dog.
He seems to serve the interests of an empress that we see at the start and then never again until the preview of season 2. I'd perhaps be more interested if that relationship was explored a bit more. Instead, we just have to accept him as a stickler for the rules. Straight laced. Vanilla. Boring.
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Arthdal Chronicles Part 1: The Children of Prophecy
1 people found this review helpful
Arthdal Chronicles was way more interesting than my political science degree
~Review of Part I only~Honestly, the political drama genre is almost dead to me at this pint. I'm sick of men in suits flouncing around parliament corridors pursued by journalists. I'm also tired of the high fantasy spin on the political drama genre which ends up just being an excuse to objectify women and showcase long-winded battle scenes. So I was thankful when I started watching Arthdal Chronicles for the breath of fresh air.
Part One – the first six episodes of the series – is all about the rich world-building. You're introduced to the characters, their settings, and the key political dynamics that set up the rest of the series.
These six episodes set the key themes for the rest of the series. These revolve around empire/nation building, racialisation, and spiritual agency. The show writers have been careful in their political crafting. They haven't just opted for a simple coloniser versus colonised binary, and instead have woven in layers of nuance right from the opening scene.
The writers also don't seem too keen on didacticism. The colonising act (trying to avoid spoilers here) is certainly depicted as cruel, but at this point the audience already has sympathy for characters on both sides. Ditto in regards to Neanthal, Igutu and Saram dynamics. This way, the characters and plot are able to achieve complexity and depth – the result being a beautifully rich world.
There's also something interesting happening with how the series treats religion/spirituality that means I'm refraining from calling this a fantasy series, but I'll get to that in my review for Part Two.
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