ScreenFish

where faith and film are intertwined

Film Festivals

Slamdance 2022 – First roundup

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Welcome to Slamdance Film Festival.

Slamdance is a festival that bills itself as “by filmmakers, for filmmakers”. It focuses on emerging talent. The festival was started in 1995 by a group of filmmakers whose films weren’t accepted into the Sundance Film Festival. I usually think of Slamdance as Sundance’s pesky younger sibling—perhaps not as accomplished, but working hard to prove they’re worthy of attention. This year’s festival is all virtual running from January 27 to February 6. It is a true bargain at $10 for a festival pass that allows you to watch as many features, docs, and shorts as you can fit in. Here’s some that I’ve seen so far.

Hannah Ha Ha, from directors Jordan Tetewsky and Joshua Pikovsky, takes us into the life of a young woman who is coasting along in life. She lives in a small town with her aging father. She does a little dog walking, teaches guitar, volunteers at a community farm. When her older brother comes for a visit, he begins to push her to get a real job. Her brother’s perspective is “Most people your age are making strides in their careers”. But another friend asks, “What do you need a real job for?” Her brother thinks she is wasting time. But is getting a fast food job just a bigger waste of time? This is an examination of ennui. Hannah has no real impetus to change, or to find meaning in her life as it is. Hannah Ha Ha is playing in the Narrative Feature section.

Is there a way to prove the existence (or non-existence) of God? In Manuel Arija’s Untrainocencia, a bizarre pair are locked into an isolation capsule as part of an experiment by a strange religious organization to try to find the answer. Orión and Adán are not anything like we’d expect. One is described as “with faith, but without hope”; the other is “with hope, but without faith”. Day by day, they enact strange rituals seeking to reach the divine. There is a ridiculousness about their efforts that is entertaining—at least for a while. It may also lead us to question our own liturgical rituals and if they are in some way as outlandish as what we are watching. When Orión discovers Adán’s secret, things begin to fall apart. Or maybe they were doomed from the start. The concept of the film appealed to me, but it never quite got beyond the visual humor to tap into more interesting aspects of the question. Ultrainocencia is also part of the Narrative Feature section.

In Goodafternoon Sweetdream, directed by Bang Seung Hyeon, we see a series of  “dreams” that are made up of conversations between Ye Won, whose father has recently died, and her friends. We aren’t sure if they are actual dreams or if they just represent an aspect of her grief. Each section is a single static camera shot. It is very talky and low key. There is no real through narrative. As such, the film really doesn’t seem to go much of anywhere. Goodafternoon Sweetdream is part of the Narrative Feature section.

A film from the Breakout section, Killing the Eunuch Khan, directed by Abed Abest, was described as “A serial killer uses his victims to kill more victims.” I wouldn’t describe it that way. But it is the most visually interesting film from my Slamdance sampling so far. There are deaths, to be sure, but it is not so much about plot as it is about the interesting shots that have been designed for the film, including a trickle of blood that eventually becomes a torrential river. There is very little dialogue throughout the film. We just watch it play out, fascinated by what we see.

Justin Zuckerman’s Yelling Fire in an Empty Theater follows a young woman who has just moved from Florida to New York City. In the opening scene, set in an airport, she’s told, “I don’t know what you think New York is going to be like, but I have to tell you, it won’t be.” Moving to New York is often an exciting time for young people, but as we meet her roommate in her toxic relationship, and as Lisa really doesn’t seem to be growing, we see that such a move may not be for everyone. Perhaps the theme is best expressed as “New York may be strange, but it is not boring—maybe.” Yelling Fire in an Empty Theater is part of the Narrative Feature section.

Imperfect – But aren’t we all?

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“. . . The assumption when folks see my chair is that I won’t be able to do things before they assume I will be able to do things.”

Acting is a very demanding profession. Actors become another person in the eyes of the audience. It is challenging. Even more so when part of who you are as a person is the label “disabled”. Imperfect, from directors Regan Linton and Brian Malone, is a behind the scenes look at the Phamaly Theater Company’s 2019 production of Chicago—a production that features actors living with disabilities.

This is not a show that is done to give disabled people a sense of accomplishment. These are professional actors, some with years of experience, who come together over a number of weeks to put on performances of a very challenging musical. Phamaly, based in Denver, provides a unique venue for actors who may well be overlooked by other theaters.

Regan Linton (who co-directs the film) spent a year at Phamaly as the Artistic Director. She and all the actors each deal with various disabilities. There are those who have been paralyzed in accidents, people who are blind, people with MS, Parkinson’s, and cerebral palsy. There are people at various points on the autism spectrum.

This film takes us into the auditions, rehearsals, and eventually the performance of Chicago. Each step of the way also gives us a chance to meet some of these actors and help us see beyond their disabilities.

It’s important to note that the disabled are very underrepresented in films and TV. One study found only two percent of TV characters had a disability. Even when a character is disabled, they are rarely played by a disabled actor.  As a society we tend to make disabilities invisible—perhaps because we don’t want to think about what that would be like for ourselves. Such ableist attitudes push such people out of our thoughts, and thus out of our lives.

Slamdance film festival is active in giving voice to the disabled in their selection process. They include special “Unstoppable” sections (one for feature films, one for shorts) that focus on films by and about disabled people. Imperfect, is not in those sections, but is included in the documentary film section.

Imperfect is screening though the very affordable ($10 for a festival pass) Slamdance Film Festival from January 27 through February 6. Passes available at Slamdance.com.

Photos courtesy of Fast Forward Films.

Poupelle of Chimney Town: Keep Looking Up

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Sometimes, when you can’t see beyond, it’s only the belief in something more that keeps you going.

Directed by Yuusuke Hirota, Poupelle of Chimney Town takes place in a city covered by a thick layer of black smoke that has prevented its population from ever seeing the sky. Though the people have accepted the darkness, young Lubicchi (Antonio Raul Corbo) clings to the stories of stars told to him by his late father, Bruno (Stephen Root). Working as a chimney sweep in order to care for his sick mother, Lola (Misty Lee), Lubicchi has become a social outcast and struggles to connect with other kids. However, his life changes when a man made of garbage stumbles out of the night. Naming his new friend ‘Poupelle’ (Tony Hale), Lubicchi accepts this ‘monster’ when others won’t and the two begin to look for the stars together.

Featuring stunning animation and the purest of hearts, Poupelle of Chimney Town is an absolute joy from start to finish. Based on the children’s book by Akihiro Nishino, Poupelle looks and feels like a bedtime story. Bursting with colour, the film seamlessly fuses 2D animation with 3D rendering in a unique and stylized manner that gives every scene an artistic aura. First time director Hirota has created a world that consists of both incredible beauty and dark oppression and the blend of visuals absolutely pop onscreen. 

While voice work can be forgettable in animated projects, most of the cast seems fully engaged with their characters, especially its leads. Young star Antonio Raul Corbo gives an emotionally engaging performance as the over-burdened but hopeful Lubicchi. At the same time, Root and Lee provide solid supporting work as his parents. However, the standout here is Hale who turns in some remarkable work here as Poupelle. Best known for his work as more manic characters such as Arrested Development’s Buster Bluth or the existential toy Forky from Toy Story 4, Hale is an absolute joy as the mysterious ‘garbage man’. As Poupelle, Hale infuses his character with innocence, humility and even an aura of wisdom. In the midst of a chaotic world, Poupelle becomes an anchor of love and support for the young Lubicchi and, as a result, Hale becomes the soul of the film.

And there is a remarkable amount of soul within this Chimney Town.

With a number of different lenses through which to examine its story, Poupelle of Chimney Town manages to work on multiple levels. For example, the film explores a number of social issues, especially through the relationship between economics and power. Without giving any spoilers, the greatest problem within this particular world is that it remains rooted in the acquisition of money. Whether it’s economic disparity between social classes or the power dynamics that create those divisions, Poupelle shows the damage that can be done when money is given priority over the people and their well-being.

Furthermore, the film works as an exploration of the nature of friendship. Broken by the sudden loss of his father over a year ago, Lubicchi and his mother are struggling to get by. Forced to support his family financially, he lives in a world of adulthood and responsibility. As a result, Lubicchi has closed himself off to friendship and pulled away from those his own age. However, with the arrival of Poupelle, his hardened heart begins to show signs of cracking. Even though others view him as a ‘monster’ and Lubicchi initially tries to push him away, Poupelle’s undeniable love and grace begins to get through. Their relationship may be imperfect but Poupelle’s commitment to the young man never fades. Even though he is hunted by the villainous Inquisitors, Poupelle constantly looks for ways to support Lubicchi and remind him of how much he matters.

No matter what oppression Poupelle faces, he never ceases to be loving. 

Similarly, Poupelle also becomes a film about the relationship between hope and belief. Covered by ‘black smokey smoke‘, Chimney Town lives under a blanket of darkness. Having never seen anything other than the congested pollution above, the people of Chimney Town cannot fathom anything larger than their own experience. (In fact, they feel threatened by it.) However, Lubicchi refuses to believes that that’s all that there is to the world. Having been told stories of wonder by his father, he believes that there is more above the clouds. Although the world around him attempts to squash his faith in the stars, he can’t help but believe there’s something more. Just like his father before him, Lubicchi cannot help but ‘keep looking up’. (He even takes a job as a chimney sweep so he can get closer to the mystery of the skies.) To Lubicchi, the mystery beyond is of greater significance than the world in front of him. Though others struggle to accept his stories, his belief in the unseen gives him purpose and restores life to his soul. 

With its emphasis on seeing beyond what’s in front of us, Poupelle of Chimney Town is a bright light in a time marred by an endless pandemic. This is a film that serves as a reminder of the power of love, friendship and believing that things can be better than they are. As Poupelle and Lubicchi work together to pierce the darkness, so too do they spark hope to those that have none. 

All because they choose to ‘keep looking up’.

Poupelle of Chimney Town is available in select theatres now on Friday, December 17th, 2021. Click here for available showings.

To hear our interview with star Tony Hale, click here (YouTube) or here (audio).

To hear our interview with star Misty and Antonio, click here (YouTube) or here (audio)

Poupelle of Chimney Town is nominated at the 2022 Annie Awards for ‘Best Music Feature’.

Flee: Running from Your Life

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Amin Nawabi had never told this story to anyone. Until now.

Directed by Jonas Poher Rasmussen, Flee tells the incredible true story of Amin Nawabi (a pseudonym), an immigrant to Denmark who fled Afghanistan as a young man. Over the course of a journey that included relying on human smugglers, almost drowning at sea and fake identities, Nawabi and his family were willing to take every possible avenue available in order to start new lives. Now an adult living with his partner, Nawabi he has chosen this format to tell the struggles that made him the man that he is today, including being separated from his family and coming to terms with his sexuality at a time of oppression.

It has become popular to hype stories by making claims that ‘you’ll never believe what happens next’ or the like but, in Nawabi’s case, it’s a true statement. This is the story of a man has never had the strength to explain anything about his life prior to his experience in Denmark yet has finally chosen to unlock the floodgates of his past. In this way, Rasmussen has absolutely struck narrative gold. As Nawabi unveils his riveting and terrifying story, you will remains transfixed by the tale. From his oppression as a child to his many attempted escapes, the openness and candor that Nawabi shows in sharing his life story is remarkable. Given the levels of trauma that he has experienced throughout his life, it is no wonder why he struggled to share it with anyone before. However, in Flee, he seems completely willing to open the vault of his life with both courage and strength.

By telling the story through animation and stock footage, Flee has a unique feel. This style of storytelling somehow manages to allow the narrative to pop onscreen visually without taking anything away from the storyteller himself. However, the animated style also filters the truth. For example, while the film itself plays out like a memory, so too does it also remain one that we can’t fully see for ourselves. No matter how traumatic an event is or how much it resonates within our soul, memory is something that cannot always be trusted. Perhaps it’s too painful for the storyteller. Perhaps events have been shaded by youthful eyes and memory. As such, the story remains both truth and fiction. While we trust that Nawabi is being honest, we are also allowed the opportunity to see that it is an interpretation of the truth.  In this way, the animated style allows the viewer to keep a safe distance from the story that Nawabi wants to tell while providing a sense of safety for the storyteller himself. 

Visceral and emotional, Flee highlights the painful realities of those who live in the Middle East. Through his (limited) use of archival footage, Rasmussen grounds his story in reality. While the exact details of Nawabi’s story may be in question at times, the global situation is never in doubt. Even when the animated style allows you to keep a distance from the story, the footage provides necessary historical context. Whether or not every detail is accurate becomes almost irrelevant. What matters most  is what was happening around him.

In Flee, we see quickly that his story is not an isolated one.

At the same time, the film also demonstrates the power of owning our stories. Despite the fact that these events have shaped his life, Nawabi has remained unable to speak about them, as if they were events that belonged to someone else. They have affected his relationships and the way he views the world yet his partner and friends remained unaware of the horrific moments that have caused fear and trepidation within him. Now, by sharing his story, he is giving himself the chance to take back what was taken from him. Where there once was disconnect with his soul, now he can begin to become whole. 

Passionate and personal, it’s quite possible that you may have never seen a documentary quite like Flee. With creativity and style, Rasmussen creates a visual treat for the eyes that accentuates his narrative. However, the real story here is not the format. The most powerful aspect of Flee is Nawabi himself as he bears his soul with honesty and humility. With each reveal, one senses that Nawabi has taken a more difficult path with the potential for massive reward. 

By sharing his story in Flee, he has chosen to no longer run from his past… and he is giving himself the chance to heal as a result.

Flee is available in theatres on Friday, December 3rd, 2021.

Tigers: Pressured to Perform

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Sometimes, our wildest dreams can be a nightmare in reality.

Based on the true story of Martin Bengtsson (Alfred Enoch), a promising footballer who was offered the world at the young age of sixteen. As Sweden’s top player, he is invited to play for one of Italy’s most high-profile clubs and he finally feels like he’s achieved his dream. However, this life of success comes at a much higher price than he could have imagined. The incredible pressure placed on him by the club threatens his mental health and he begins to crumble under the weight of his loneliness and sacrifice.

Written and directed by Ronnie Sandahl, Tigers is an intense film that takes the shine off the glitzy and glamorous world of professional sports and highlights the emotional damage that can be inflicted on the human soul when its trapped in an abusive environment. Whereas most sports films offer themes of the ‘triumph of the human spirit’, Tiger does so in an entirely different manner. 

Based on the memoirs of the real-life Bengtsson (whom he also has a close personal friendship with), Sandhal grounds his story in the gritty reality of stardom. This is not a story about the ‘comeback kid’ or ‘unexpected hero’. Instead, Sandahl’s film points to a more psychological triumph in the face of abuse. Set at a time when mental health was rarely discussed in the world of sports, Tigers pulls back the curtain on the intense pressure that players experience at the hands of clubs who demand the highest levels of performance. In some ways, its fair to expect that sports clubs expect to get the most out of their substantial investments. However, Tigers highlights the unbelievable emotional toll that this sort of environment can take on the players themselves as teams view their players more as ‘commodities’ than they are as human beings,.

Centering the film around young Enoch’s performance, the camera rarely deviates from his face, revealing the internal anguish that he’s experiencing. Wherever he goes, Sandahl wants us to watch him. Like the world around him, this is a story that is intently focused on the abilities of its star. (In fact, it’s worth noting that he even zooms in on Enoch during in-game scenes instead of broadening the shot to include wide crowd shots. Rather to portray these as moments of celebration,  Tigers insists that we intently watch the young man for his own safety.) Even so, Enoch does an excellent job portraying both the innocence and insecurity in the eyes of youth. the pressures of stardom begin to take their toll, we both hope for him and fear for him at the same time. 

The film gains its title from a photograph featuring a caged tiger who eventually turns on his owners. Wild at heart, this beast of the jungle may be locked away but his soul yearns for freedom. Visually, Sandhal reinforces this metaphor by enclosing Bengtsson in cages throughout the entire film. Whether it’s in his training facility or in hospital, we recognize quickly that Martin is unable to move or breathe. Like the animal itself, Bengtsson is a man repressed from the outside while the rage continues to build within him.

At a deeper level, one of the more intriguing conversations going on within the film is the value of the human soul. Having worked his entire life to become a professional soccer player, Martin has finally achieved his dream. However, the fame he has fought for comes at a price. Because they are essentially owned by the club they work for, high-level players are treated as commodities to be bought and sold at will. As they bring their clubs glory, so too are their livelihoods lie fully in the hands of those that write their paychecks. 

Pressured to produce, the joy of his experience evaporates quickly, leaving Martin feeling empty inside. However, when he experiences love for the first time, he begins to feel a sense of rebirth inside. To Martin, there is a sense of refreshing that takes place when someone finally values him for himself as opposed to their expectations of him. As a result, hope and healing begin to replace the feelings of anxiety and anger. Of course, this creates an emotional tension within him, especially as the club further tightens its grip upon him. But the proverbial damage has been done. Despite the best efforts of his team to force him into their mold, life has been sprung within his soul once again. Suddenly, he begins to wonder if the very thing he has wanted most may not in fact be that thing he wants most.

Suddenly, there is a world beyond his obsession.

Poetic and powerful, Tigers is a deeply affective journey. Rooted in his friendship with the real-life Bengtsson, Sandhal’s story feels personal and real as it explores what it means to be valued in a world where the financial bottom line matters more than a player’s humanity. Though he was one of the first to speak out about his suffering, Bengsston’s story still resonates today in a world where salaries continue to rise and social media keeps a close eye on the lives of its stars. Most importantly, Tigers serves as a reminder that he is not alone.

To hear our conversation with writer/director Ronnie Sandahl, click here (YouTube) and here (audio).

Tigers is Sweden’s submission in the Best Foreign Language category for the 2022 Academy Awards.

Baby Don’t Cry: Bridging Worlds with Broken Souls

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Baby Don’t Cry tells the story of Baby (Zita Bai), a 17-year-old Chinese immigrant struggling to survive. Living with her cruel mother and doing menial tasks to pay the bills after school, Baby simply doesn’t seem to fit in. When she meets drug-dealing dropout Fox (Vas Provatakis), her life begins to change. Drawn to his rough exterior and strength, Baby fights to win his respect and a romance begins between them. However, when their inner brokenness begins to surface, the two must decide whether or not their connection is healthy.

Directed by Jesse Dvorak, Baby Don’t Cry is a visceral and difficult look at the immigrant experience and exposes the fallacy of the American Dream. Written by Bai, this is a film which feels personal as it explores the challenges of starting life in an unwelcoming world. What’s more, Bai offers an honest and heartrending performance as Baby. In many ways, Bai offers an uncomfortably authentic portrayal of a young woman trying to find herself. She is awkward, innocent and sexually unaware. Tapping into her own experiences, Bai delivers a quietly powerful performance that allows Baby to show the marks on her soul without ever portraying her as weak in spirit. Instead, Bai ensures that there’s a fire burning within her character, even if others seek to put it out.

Forced to clean toilets in order to pay the bills, Baby always feels like she’s on the outside. New to the country, she struggles to fit in anywhere or make any personal connections. Struggling with the language barrier in school, her fellow students simply label her a ‘freak’. Although she works in the homes of the wealthy, she rare sees any respect. With the sting of each verbal abuse, we see her eyes deaden just a little bit more as she falls more hopelessly inside her emotions.

For her, the immigrant experience has been one of loneliness and pain.

Struggling with the trauma of an abusive mother and losing her father, Baby is on a personal quest looking for love and acceptance. Whereas few take the time to notice her, Baby wants to be seen. When she meets Fox, she is immediately taken by his strength and vivacity. However, there is a toxicity to their relationship as well. While there’s a thrill to their ‘Bonnie and Clyde’ energy, Baby and Fox often bring out the worst in each other. Her pursuit of Fox is never fully requited (or, at least, not in a healthy manner.) Addicted to drugs, fueled by anger and prone to cheating, Fox refuses to be trapped in the proverbial marital henhouse. Even so, there is a powerful connection between them that keeps drawing them back to one another. 

In this way, Baby often seems to be looking for some form of safety from a voice that will tell her that she is valuable. In Fox, she believes that—maybe—Fox can fill this need. However, everyone in her life (including Fox) seems to view her as an object to be used. Although Baby feels gives all she has to those around her, she remains an inconvenience to them. As such, there is a sadness and brokenness within this film which bleeds off the screen. Don’t Cry is an example of the suffering endured by many in silence as they attempt to survive on a daily basis. For Baby, hope seems to be elusive and elsewhere.

At the same time, Don’t Cry never loses sight of Baby’s true value. Her life and soul matter, regardless of the selfishness of those around her. With this in mind, despite the viciousness of the world around her, Baby seems understands this quality to the soul. She takes pictures of dead rodents as if to offer them a memorial. She remembers the voice of her father fondly, especially how encouraging he was to her. In moments like these we know that there is something within Baby that recognizes her importance, even if others fail to see it.

Though difficult to watch, Baby, Don’t Cry feels like an important experience for the viewer. Led by a strong performance by Bai, the film provides insight into the challenges of bridging cultures while looking for ways to thrive. Most importantly though, Don’t Cry is a reminder that, regardless of how we are treated by others, we still matter.

To hear our conversation with writer/director/star Zita Bai, click here (YouTube) and here (audio).

Baby, Don’t Cry played at the New Orleans Film Festival on November 10th, 2021 and is currently on the festival circuit.

Julia: For the Love of Cooking

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Some people love cooking while others cook for the sake of love.

Beginning with her conservative childhood, the new documentary Julia explores the life and love of television icon, Julia Child. After her time in the military, Child married and moved to France. It was here that her life was changed forever. From her first meal in a Parisian restaurant, she knew that she would ‘never turn back’. Enrolling in Paris’ Le Cordon Bleu, Child’s passion became creating quality meals in the home and passing that knowledge onto others. With her distinctive voice and bubbly personality, she quickly became an unlikely television star at age 50 but, in doing so, also found herself battling the gender barriers of the time.

Practically perfect in its tone and execution, Julia is a heartwarming and sweet film with a little bit of extra space added in. Directed by Julie Cohen and Betsy West (RBG), Julia demonstrated the life and impact of a woman who may be misunderstood by many. At first glance, Child may appear to represent an era dominated by toxic masculinity as the stereotypical ‘woman cooking in the kitchen’. However, Julia’s exceptional storytelling paints a very different picture of her by shining a light on her rebellious and courageous spirit.

With enthusiasm and energy, the film celebrates Child’s desire to break down gender barriers by using her platform in the kitchen as a symbol of equality. For example, when she began her career, her presence was considered controversial due to the fact that most French kitchens were dominated by men. As she began her culinary education, her presence was not welcomed by the men in her peer group. Even so, she persisted, demanding that they view her as one of their own. In this way, Child became one of the first feminists to break through in an industry dominated by men. She was passionate about women’s rights reproductive and was fierce in the board room. Though she was brought up in a staunchly Conservative home, she challenged people to discuss issues difficult topics such as sexuality at a time when it was not considered ‘proper’ to do so. By way of her refusal to be treated differently, Child quickly became an advocate for women everywhere.

With charm and intellect, Child had the unique ability to make the complex seem simple and, in doing so, changed the way that people viewed meal preparation. During an era when TV dinners and convenience dominated the home, Child suggested that anyone could cook and wanted to empower them to do so. Like the French masters that taught her, she understood that the ability to prepare a meal was not only an art form. It was also a celebration of life. What’s more, she also believed that cooking was not merely a necessity but a pleasure and a delight. Inspired by the deep love that she had for her husband, Child believed that cooking was one of the best ways that a person could make a home healthy. (Incidentally, her philosophy of the ‘Three F’s’ is surprisingly hilarious.) For Julia, one cooked for others as an expression of love, not merely obligation.

There was a joy of creation within it that she wanted all to experience.

In the end, Julia is an absolutely delightful meal for the senses. With sizzle and fun, the film is an utter celebration of a woman who’s impact on the industry changed the way that the world understood the kitchen. Even so, her greatest contribution lay beyond the cutting boards and sauce pans. Instead, Julia reveals that Child’s strength and determination were her true superpower as she also fought to open doors for women everywhere.

Julia is now playing in select theatres.

Reel Asian ’21: A Trip to Heaven

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Set on the road to Mekong Delta, A Trip to Heaven follows 50-year-old Madame Tam as she boards a mysterious tour bus. After she settles in, she is shocked to see her former high school sweetheart sitting in the back row. Enamoured and excited, Madame Tam battles her nerves and must decide whether or not she’s going to attempt to reconcile with her long-lost love.

Directed by Ling Duong, A Trip to Heaven is a beautifully poetic piece about death that also maintains its sense of humour. Through slow, steady camera work, Duong’s short creates an atmosphere of inevitability. While we don’t fully understand where this bus tour leads, Duong never lets us forget that it leads somewhere. Although kept moving with humour, the film maintains a slow burn as it builds towards the final scene at the ‘Stairway to Heaven’.

What’s more, Heaven also emphasizes the emotional burden that we can put upon ourselves for missed opportunities. For example, as Madame Tam yearns to reconcile with her lost love, she expresses her desire to relive a piece of her past that she regrets. Approaching the end of her life, she still holds out hope that—maybe—there might still be an opportunity for long lost love. To her, this is a moment has left a hole in her soul. As a result, the chance to change her past is embedded with possibility and hope. 

However, at the same time, Heaven serves as a reminder that you cannot always fix what has been done either. Sometimes, moments from our past cannot be repaired, no matter how much we yearn for them to be changed. In this way, this Trip to Heaven wants us to believe in hope for change… but also points out that it may not always be possible.

A Trip to Heaven premiered at Reel Asian Film Fest ‘21.

Reel Asian ’21: Taipei Suicide Story

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Set in a society vastly different from our experience, Taipei Suicide Story takes place in a hotel that willingly assists its guests with ending their lives. By providing a number of methods by which they may commit suicide, this place runs efficiently and effectively. However, when a hotel guest who is unsure about her life and death decision is discovered to have ‘overstayed her welcome’, a receptionist begins to break the rules of engagement and the two strike up an unusual friendship.

Directed by KEFF, Taipei Suicide Story is a surprisingly sweet and strangely funny look at the tension between life and death. Keeping his camera movements simple and his dialogue quiet, KEFF offers a sense of reverence for the lives lost, even if their passing takes place in a facility where it’s expected. In many ways, this hotel is a morgue, inviting guests to join in the gentle release of death. However, by using a warm colour palette, KEFF keeps this place feeling both welcoming and safe within its walls. Though the end result may be sad, this hotel feels just the opposite.

Anchored by heart-warming (and heart-rendering) performances by Vivian Sung and Tender Huang, Suicide Story speaks to the human need for intimacy and connection in a space where hope feels lost. After remaining in the hotel for an unexpected length of time, Sung’s character is looking for something. Whether it’s a reason to live or die is unclear, yet what is apparent is that she is sensing a deep loneliness. Her openness and emptiness connects deeply with Huang’s receptionist. To him, this place has always been about respecting the rules while others suffer. However, in this guest, something sparks. As the two grow closer, so too does KEFF use this story to speak to our human need for intimacy and the emotional void that is left without it.  

Taipei Suicide Story premiered at Reel Asian Film Fest ‘21.

Reel Asian ’21: Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes

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Set above a simple Japanese café, Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes follows Kato as he returns home from a hard day at work. As he looks around his tiny apartment for his guitar pick, an image of him appears on his computer monitor, claiming to be him but two minutes into the future. Soon, Kato and his friends begin to enjoy the phenomenon, using the ‘Time TV’ to improve their lives. However, in doing so, they also quickly realize that there are consequences to their reckless behaviour as the future strikes back with a vengeance.

Directed by Junta Yamaguchi, Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes is an absolute joy from start to finish. Hilarious and energetic, this well-written mind-trip through time fully commits to its premise yet feels fully grounded in reality. Adding to the fun is the fact that Yamaguchi and his team shoot the film to feel as one continuous shot, moving the camera with gentle urgency. In doing so, he keeps the viewer in the moment (and continues to add to the illusion) as time unfurls in front of them in real time.

At the film’s heart though lies questions about what establishes our future. As Kato and his friends look further into the beyond, so too do they lean into the ‘plan’ that has been set before them. Their decisions are affected and they become bound to the will of the digital story unfolding in front of them. However, are they bound by the rules of the future? Or do they in fact have free will to make their own decisions and what would the effects of that be? As it explores the boundaries of choice, so too does Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes lean into the relationship between hope and freedom as we create our own futures.

Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes is now playing at Reel Asian Film Fest ‘21.