Reviews

While the concept of the docudrama is becoming increasingly popular, particularly in festival circles, it is good to remember that Midi Z has been shooting films that top the category since 2016 and "City of Jade" and "Road to Mandalay". His prowess in shooting documentaries in a way that they look like dramas continues with another captivating story in "The Clinic".

In Yangon, Myanmar's largest city, a doctor-couple, Aung Ming and San San Oo, operate a neighborhood clinic, providing low-cost treatments and therapies for a wide variety of ailments, mostly ailing alcoholics, drug addicts, and in general people who live on the edge of society. The initial scene, where Aung Ming treats a chronic alcoholic who has left a wound in his wound fester so much that it has filled with worms and the leg needs to be cut, sets the tone of the first part of the movie, which deals with the capacity of the two as doctors. A bit later on, San San Oo receives a call at night by the mother of a drug addict who is experiencing mania, and tries to help through the phone, in a situation that definitely looks desperate.

The couple, however, are not only doctors, but also artists. San San Oo paints, with her paintings appearing throughout the film, while Aung Ming is shooting a movie, having a Rohingya play a Rakhine. The choice is rather daring for both director and actor, as the sectarian violence between the Rohingya Muslim and Rakhine Buddhist communities has been going on since the 40s. The film even finds its way to a number of festivals, where the audience's reaction, though, is occasionally extreme.

Check the interview with the director

Midi Z shoots a rather impactful film that combines the documentary and the drama (without any kind of fictitious elements though) in the most eloquent fashion, benefitting by two very crucial factors. The first is definitely the personalities and work of the two doctors, who manage to deal with rather harsh cases of mental and physical illnesses while still finding time for their art, in two rather remarkable individuals.

The second is how their life and work mirrors and presents life in Myanmar from 2017, when the story starts, until 2021, and the coup that established the junta in the country. As such, the fact that something is not going well with healthcare on various levels in the country becomes abundantly clear, while discussions about the state of Myanmar, corruption, racism, incompetence and the Rohingya people also move in the same path. Expectedly, the now renowned yoga video from the day of the coup is also included, cementing this part in the most impactful way. At the same time, the fact that Midi Z does not include narration, as it is quite frequent in documentaries, but lets his audience make their own assessment of what is happening actually increases the impact of the documentary and its brutal realism.

Peter Pan's cinematography captures the small kiosk-like shed that functions as the clinic in a way that makes it appear as a location out of fairy tale, barring the harshly pragmatic events that take place inside it. The way he uses doors and windows for his framing is also excellent, in one of the best traits of the documentary.

Wu Ke-xi and Midi Z's editing connect the various aspects of the film nicely, essentially creating a rather appealing story with beginning, middle and ending, even if in a somewhat abstract fashion. The pace, which is relatively fast for such a production, also fits the narrative nicely, while at 87 minutes, and considering the depth of the story and the variety of episodes, the movie definitely does not overextend its welcome.

Midi Z is a master of the docudrama, even to a level that makes an actual documentary also function as a drama, and "The Clinic" is a definite testament to the fact.

One of the newest trends in the documentary scene is a rather evident effort to move away from the traditional approach of the medium and move towards more artistic paths (although not as avant-garde as Japanese filmmakers like Terayama and Oshima did the past), which linger somewhere between the experimental and the fictitious. This approach has become quite evident this year in Thessaloniki, with "From Abdul to Leila" being a prominent sample of this tendency.

The titular Leila Albayati is a Franco-Iraqi, who, after hearing for years her father, Abdul, a former member of the Baath party, telling stories about Iraq, decided to visit the country when she was 18, when the country was under embargo and no planes were landing. However, something terrible happened to her there, with the film hinting on the fact until the revelation close to the end, and she returned to France a wreck. While alienating her family and indulging into various forms of "entertainment" in an effort to forget, she had a terrible accident that caused her to lose her memory and forced her to several years of exile. Now, she tries to reconnect with her family and her heritage, by learning Arabic and turning the poems her father wrote over the years, into songs. The language and the music gradually open the way to long-suppressed memories and lead her to discover her origins and the Arab world.

As such, the documentary unfolds in a number of axes, which border from the usual documentary approach to the delirious. Her father's stories about Iraq are quite interesting to listen to, as much as her mother's, which also include how the two met. Leila's issues with her father during her childhood to teenage years are also revealed, while the shadow of what happened to her in Iraq is hanging above the whole narrative here. Scenes of her dancing in a club, her drawings, her effort to learn Arabic, and her collaboration with her father in order to turn his poems into songs she sings are also repeated in the documentary. Lastly, a trip she takes to Egypt, where she also has a discussion with a victim of torturing in Iraq and a number of events that made the relationship between the West and the Arab world (Bataclan, USA's 'war on terror") conclude the rather multilevel approach.

The sociopolitical aspect of the movie, as dictated by the words of her father, her mother, and the man she talks in Iraq are as shocking as they are informative of the situation. Furthermore, what happened to Leila through her life and her effort to recover are also intriguing, inducing the movie with a sense of drama whose impact is heightened by the fact that this is reality and not fiction.

At the same time, however, when the documentary moves away from those elements and moves more towards art paths, the quality definitely decreases, with the music parts, the repeated footage from her dancing in the clubs and her smoking within idyllic settings not working particularly well. It is also those elements that highlight that, despite its main theme, the movie remains French and not Arabic (or Asian if you prefer), although the fact that the director actually acknowledges this and tries to change it dulls its impact to a point. Lastly, there are moments when the whole thing seems to move into self-promotion paths, which, again, do not work that well.

Barbara Bossuet, Zoé Nutchey and Albayaty's editing connect the different cinematic elements nicely, through a mid tempo that works most of the time, but the fact remains, that some of those elements are not as interesting as others.

As such, "From Abdul to Leila" emerges as a documentary that has both traits and issues, with the balance, though, tilting towards the former, in a film that fans of arthouse cinema will probably enjoy more than doc fans.

Films about films have been coming in abundance from the Japanese movie industry lately, with the particular meta approach forming something of a trend but also circumventing the difficulties script-writing always presents. Su Yu Chun tries her hand in the category through a film that takes a rather realistic view on indie filmmaking.

The story follows Kiriko, a young indie filmmaker who is struggling to make a road movie that ends on a beach, which, considering how much of a cliche both have become in the Japanese movie industry, emerges as hilariously ironic. However, the problems come one after the other, while her producer, Takimoto, is not exactly eager to give her a break. Location scouting proves a disaster, also financially, the actress Kiriko and Takimoto had in mind to play the leading role is nowhere to be found, the latter has the characters in her mind but has trouble communicating her ideas to the actors, while the budget problems, as always in indie films, never cease. Not to mention that Kiriko's cat runs away at some point. Gradually however, and by studying the 'lessons' her life gives her, Kiriko finds solutions to her problems.

Su Yu Chun directs a movie that seems to have a very specific message to share, which actually echoes quite real for indie filmmaking: 'Just do it, don't let any problems stop you". Essentially the whole narrative of the movie revolves around this concept, with Kiriko stumbling upon a number of obstacles, and eventually overcoming them with the help of various people around her, but also by studying her life and that of others, including other (indie) filmmakers. One could say that this message embodies the whole concept of the particular type of movie making, as independent directors are always in search for money and ways to work around the problems they face with each production.

At the same time, the movie functions as a thorough and realistic look at a plethora of aspects of the industry, from the way movies are in the mind of a director until they are actually put on film, to how indie cinemas work, including the way audiences and the employees function. The combination of these two elements, as much as the appealingness of the main character carry the movie from beginning to end, in an economical 'package' of 83 minutes that definitely works well.

Nairu Yamamoto as Kiriko is another 'attraction' of the movie, with her portraying both her will to shoot a movie and the fact that she does not know how on a number of levels, with a sense of measure and an overall realism that is in perfect resonance with the overall aesthetics here. Saori in the role of Takimoto is also quite good, with her "seen that-done that" attitude and the fact that she frequently treats Kiriko as a child, being excellently delivered, as much as echoing quite realistic regarding the relationship of producers and directors. Lastly, the appearance of director Nobuhiro Suwa in the movie is quite a pleasant surprise, particularly when one considers his role as a teacher of film.

The cinematography expectedly also follows realistic paths, with the images being genuinely indie, and the overall approach finding its apogee in the finale, which, also expectedly, is by the sea. The editing results in a relatively fast tempo that works well.

"Inch Forward" delves quite deeply into indie filmmaking, presenting all its hardships and joys in the best fashion, while retaining a very appealing lightness throughout its 83 minutes. With an approach that combines realism with humor in the best fashion, 29-years-old Su Yu Chun is definitely a name to look for in the future, particularly if she gets good scripts in her hands.

Led by an excellent performance by Golden Horse winner, 12-year-old Audrey Lin, who had already proven her talent in "American Girl" but really lifts off here, "Trouble Girl" focuses on a girl with ADHD, in a style that will remind many of "Amiko", but is also a rather different animal.

The girl in focus is Xiaoxiao and her energy and high sensitivity has been causing problems for her, her parents, and her classmates since childhood. And while the school environment offers some consolation, as the teachers of her classroom have explained her situation to other students and asked for understanding and help, the same does not apply in her home, as her father is constantly abroad working and her mother, Wei-fang, is really struggling. One of the most supportive teachers at school is Paul, who does retain, however, an affair with Wei-fang, something that Xiaoxiao eventually realizes, which brings a number of new issues in her mental state. Furthermore, their classmates soon start showing their cruel side, while a pet owl the school keeps, Kitty, also plays a significant role in the story.

Chin Chia-Hua directs a sensitive, dramatic, but also quite realistic movie that takes a thorough look at the consequences of ADHD, equally to the person who has it, their parents, and their school environment. Regarding the last, Chin starts by showing that the teachers understand the issue and try to help, with the same applying to the students. However, as time passes, the cruelty kids and teenagers frequently show comes to the fore, as Xiaoxiao is not only ostracized but also bullied, not to mention cunningly provoked, with one of the students who was supposed to help being the main medium of these despicable but also somewhat unsurprising attitudes. Expectedly, Xiaoxiao cannot handle their behavior and reacts with violence, something that eventually has the parents of her classmates also acting against her, in one of the most impactful scenes in the movie.

Her mother's affair, although justified due to the fact that her husband has alienated her and the issues she faces with her daughter, also creates problems for the girl, who eventually, however, does adapt to the new reality, particularly because Paul was already rather kind to her and she has gotten used to him. The fact that the two adults must keep their relationship a secret, on the other hand, puts even more pressure on them, with the whole thing, expectedly, erupting at some point, particularly after Xiaoxiao has to stay at home for some days. At the same time, this relationship also poses a rather intriguing question, of whether Paul was so good to his student due to his relationship with her mother, or whether Wei-fang got close to him due to his attitude towards her daughter. Of course, both or neither could be true, but the question definitely adds depth to the narrative.

Also quite interesting is the way Chin uses the owl in the narrative, with the parallel between her and Xiaoxiao being quite evident, particularly as soon as the intense bullying starts, while another rather impactful scene, close to the end, highlights this aspect quite thoroughly.

Lastly, the impossible situation all three protagonists face is also well-communicated, in another of the central themes of the narrative, with both their mentality and the pressure of their environment (faculty, parents, other students, the husband) adding to the problem, in another quite realistic element here, which is, though, a central source of the drama in the movie too.

The acting emerges as one of the movie's biggest traits. Audrey Lin is astonishing and rather convincing as Xiaoxiao, to the point that one will wonder during the movie if she actually has ADHD. DP Che Wen Chen's camera follows her quite closely, frequently with intense close-ups, in an approach that definitely benefits the movie due to her acting. And talking about cinematography, Chi highlights the suffocating environment the protagonists inhabit in a rather impactful fashion, while the parallel with the owl and the violent scenes are impressively captured. Ivy Chen as Wei-fang is also extraordinary in the way she presents a woman in an impossible situation, with the moments she erupts or succumbs being among the most memorable in the movie. Terrance Lau as Paul depicts his contradicting feelings, of trying to help a girl with ADHD that might become something more in the future, and keeping a balance between her and the rest of the students, rather convincingly. The way his mentality deteriorates is also among the best aspects of the movie.

Chin Chia-hua's own editing results in a mid-tempo that works well for the nature of the story, allowing for the plethora of episodes to be presented without rush in the 103 minutes of the film, although some issues with the pacing, particularly in the beginning of the movie, and some cliches here and there (the scene with the rain for example) do exist.

"Trouble Girl" is an excellent movie that manages to highlight a very timely issue with realism, while retaining interest throughout its duration through a dramatic, but also measured approach to the main topic.

S we have mentioned in the past, documentaries seem to offer much more opportunities for artistic experimentation in the last few years, through the concepts of the experimentalism and the mockumentary. Bo Wang moves a step beyond by combining the two, in a 37-minute hybrid film that has won a number of awards in festivals all over the world.

The story unfolds through various types of cinematic elements, with the narration by the incarnate ghost of a deceased real hair donor providing the connection. A tour guide in Hong Kong, both of the present and of the past, news footage from the 60s and later on, and a dramatization of sorts where a teacher shares a story with her students (?) are just parts of the initial elements. In distinct experimental style, image and sound (narration if you prefer) do not always fit, while the fact that the news deal almost exclusively with hair and wigs, as in the case of a US ban to wigs made from hair from communist countries such as China or Vietnam, while hair from Taiwan, for example, are accepted, setting the tone.

This approach continues throughout the film, as what follows is a man who looks like a doctor starts analyzing the concept of hair. It seems like he is lying out of his teeth, but you never know. When he connects his whole theme with ghosts and spirits, however, the question of his 'expertise' gets a definite answer. The next sequence involves combing wigs, while the story of the woman who worked in a wig factory continues through narration.

Everything looks fake and real at the same time, in distinct mockumentary fashion. Feng Shui masters jumping around and reciting Mao's poems become parts of the story, along with the ever present ghosts that seem to always be connected with hair and wigs. The narrator also changes the story's focus eventually, focusing on herself, and another absurd tale which has her becoming a wig and travelling abroad. The aforementioned elements continue as the movie progresses, with the stories becoming more and more ludicrous. The "Sadako" interview (and the translation) cements the whole thing in the most fitting way, while songs sung backwards and a series of performances close the movie.

Although difficult to follow on occasion, particularly due to the amount of info and the difference between what is heard and what is shown on screen, to the viewer who does manage to do so, "An Asian Ghost Story" is quite rewarding, both in terms of entertainment and overall context. In that fashion, the rather unique sense of humor takes care of the former, but since this comedic approach still manages to communicate sociopolitical comments, particularly regarding the attitude of the US throughout history and the overall situation of Hong Kong, the latter is also covered.

Bo Wang's own editing is quite competent here, as the medium of both humor and the experimentalism that permeate the documentary, while the low definition of the majority of the visuals add even more to the absurdity of what is shown on screen. That Bo Wang, however, manages to tame this approach, while retaining both the humor and the seriousness of the comments, even if through metaphor and fake (?) news, results in a rather intriguing movie, with "An Asian Ghost Story" definitely being one of those productions that will reward the "dedicated" viewer immensely.

Winner of a Golden Bell Award for Best Television film in 2022, "Do Not Go Gentle in Taipei" is an LGBT films in its base, which moves, however, in a number of different genre paths.

The story begins in a club filled with strobing lights, loud music, and people dancing. Xiao Ann and Mimi, who seem to be a couple are talking about guys flirting with them. Mimi seems to want to also include a guy in their company, something that Xiao Ann reluctantly agrees to. They pick a guy, A-kai, who is just sitting and watching and the three soon start hanging out in nighttime Taipei, even if the 'newcomer's' profession sounds a bit shady. It seems that Mimi never had sex with a guy, and that is why they were searching for someone. The three eventually end up in a hotel room, but things do not go exactly as planned, on a number of levels.

Wang Yi-Ling directs a film that starts as a lesbian youth drama, then switches to a road movie, then to an erotic one, before it becomes a crime one, with the transition between the genres being quite smooth, in a testament to both her direction and the excellent editing by her and Chang Ya Ting. The pace is also quite well implemented, with the speed picking up according to the narrative, and the two running scenes setting the tempo nicely. Chen Ko-chin's cinematography is one of the best assets of the short, with him presenting the various settings (club, the street, the hotel room, the convenience store) in the most impressive fashion, benefitting the most by the coloring and the lighting in order to show a series of truly appealing images.

In terms of context, the night life of Taipei is depicted in a fashion that leans more towards entertainment, while the difficulties relationships present in a setting where sex is quite easy to happen emerges as the central comment here. Lastly, how the underworld operates, which also includes a subtle jab towards China is also highlighted, again with a focus on entertainment.

Wing Yu-Xuan as Mimi highlights both her playful eagerness for a new experience and her reluctance quite convincingly, with the same applying to Angel Lee as Xiao-an, who highlights her disgruntlement in subtle but eloquent fashion. Devin Pan as A-kai has an easier role, but is also good, with the chemistry of the three being among the movie's best traits.

"Do Not Go Gentle in Taipei" is fun, entertaining and rather well shot, and a testament that genre filmmaking can also be quite successful in the short format.

Semi-autobiographical story of director Fiona Roan Feng-i, "American Girl" had 10 nominations at Golden Horse, getting awards for 5 (Cinematography, Audience Choice, Best New Director, Best New Performer, FIPRESCI) in one of the most successful movies of 2021, which eventually found its way to Netflix.

The story takes place during the 2002-2004 SARS outbreak. Fen Liang and her sister Ann have to return to Taiwan from the United States with their mother, Lily, after she is diagnosed with breast cancer, in order to seek help from her husband, Huay. The two girls, even though they speak Mandarin, find it quite hard to adapt to the new environment, particularly Fen, who had already successfully adapted to the previous change, becoming a straight A student in the US, and now has to change her ways once more, even though she is only 13. Their mother's medical treatment is quite harsh and takes a toll on her, and expectedly, on the family, while father Huay tries to balance all the issues, but also finds it quite hard.

Although not sure how many of the elements of the story are based on reality, Fiona Roan Feng-i definitely places her protagonists in a setting that can only be described as impossible. It is not just the moving to another country, which is always quite hard, and even more for kids, it is also the fact that four people have to learn to live together for the first time, while one of them has a potentially terminal disease in the middle of a pandemic. Expectedly, finding a balance in the midst of these situations is impossible, with Roan revolving her narrative and guiding her drama through them, in order to both analyze her characters and make her audience empathize with them.

Also of note are the differences between the two countries, as presented through two central systems, the health and the education one. And while the former seems to be much better, with Lily getting top notch care constantly without having to pay a fortune, the case is rather different in the latter. It is not only the bullying the two girls experience as outsiders, it is also the way the Taiwanese system is almost specifically grade-centric, with the students placed in an actual hierarchy solely based on their grades. Fen, who already has some issues with her Mandarin, experiences the whole thing in the harshest fashion, getting from the top in the US to the bottom in Taiwan, while her teacher does not miss a chance to belittle her, not to mention hit her, in a corporal punishment that seems quite common for the time the story takes place in.

At the same time, Fen, who wants to go back to the US, has no one to turn to in order to seek help for her problems, as her sick mother is also experiencing various stages of depression, and her father is just trying to keep the family afloat financially. That she also has to take care of her sister is essentially the last straw, with the way the whole pressure eventually leads to violence, both verbal and physical, being one the most impactful sequences in the whole movie.

At the same time, it is also the part of the story that finally provides a relief to all the piling pressure, essentially allowing Roan to give a positive message, that, despite their problems, families will always be there for each other. The comment is somewhat romanticized, but at the same time, provides a very satisfying closure to the story that also prevents the movie from concluding as a hardcore melodrama.

Also of note is the way Roan reconstructs the Taiwan of the era, with her presentation being both accurate and realistic, and the work done in the production design and the costumes being top notch. Giorgos Valsamis's cinematography captures the aforementioned through an approach that is both realistic and impressive, with his framing essentially being part of the narrative, and the coloring mirroring the overall mood of the movie. Zekun Mao's editing results in a mid-tempo that suits the overall aesthetics, while at 101 minutes, the movie does not overextend its welcome in any way.

The acting is also on a very high level. Caitlin Fang as Fen is exceptional in a rather hard role that has her being pinned down physically and psychologically almost constantly, and her delivering with a sense of measure that is usually found in much more experienced actors. Karena Kar-Yan Lam as Lily is also quite good in presenting her deteriorating mentality, while Kaiser Huang as Huay is convincing in both his kind and patient moments and in the ones he loses his temper.

Even if a bit excessive in its drama, "American Girl" is an exceptional movie that shows the difficulties of reverse diaspora in a rather realistic fashion, while carrying enough drama to deem the movie quite entertaining.

Drawing inspiration from his 2006 documentary "Doctor", "The Fourth Portrait" cemented Chung Mong-hong's prowess as one of the most significant Taiwanese contemporary directors, screening in festivals all over the world, and earning him numerous awards, both locally and internationally.

Ten-year-old Xiao Xiang finds himself on his own when his father passes away. His sorrow and overall perplexion regarding his future, as much as a broken promise to the deceased lead him to create the first of the four portraits that give the movie its title. Soon, he finds himself under the wing of old janitor Chang, who tries to teach him proper manners, while pilfering from abandoned buildings in order to sustain himself and the boy. While Xiao Xiang finds some sort of balance, his estranged mother, Chun-Lan, appears out of nowhere to take him to live with her and her new husband. Considering that she works as a prostitute and he is resentful and violent, the circumstances are not exactly ideal for the boy, who also faces problems in school, just before he befriends a petty thief, a cheerful simpleton who goes by the name "Big Gun" in his mind and "Short and fat petty thief" in everyone else's.

Probably the best asset of the movie, as it is actually in all of Chung Mong-hong's works either as a director or DP, is the cinematography, with the job done in the particular department being truly exquisite. One has to watch the scenes with the two toilets or the dialogue between the mother and the teacher to realize how meaningful and intricate the framing is, but the whole visual approach actually is a wonder to look at, with the distance of the camera, the coloring, the use of light and the shadows all being ideal.

In terms of context, Chung centers his movie on the kid and his rather difficult situation, inducing, however, the narrative with a rather smart (if somewhat crude) sense of comedy, and a number of twists that are both well placed and add depth to the story. The concept of the brother in particular is rather well embedded, also functioning as a catalyst for a number of the most impactful scenes in the movie. These include, apart from the aforementioned in the school, the one with the stepfather and the policeman, and the one between him and Xiao Xiang, both of which highlight the overall character of the latter, in eloquent but also quite realistically dark fashion.

Also of note is the overall acting here, with Chung 'exploiting' his actors in the most impressive fashion. Bi Xiao-hai is astonishing as Xiao Xiang, with him exhibiting a wide gamut of feelings and psychological statuses in the most convincing way, while as the recipient of violence, both verbal and physical, his performance goes even beyond. Also of note are his interactions with his teacher in school, Huang, with their rapport as exhibited in the painting scene and the one with the 'recital' being among the most memorable in the film, also due to the chemistry he exhibits with (perhaps too good looking) Terri Kwan in the role.

Leon Dai as the stepfather highlights his duplicity and the sense of danger he emits from every move and every word in excellent fashion, while Lei Hai as Chun-Lan depicts her struggle between being a mother and not wishing to be one, as much as her trauma, quite convincingly. King Shih-Chieh adds a sense of measure as Chang, probably the most parental figure Xiao Xiang interacts with in the whole film. Lastly, Na Dou-Lin as 'Big Gun' is the main source of comedy here, despite the fact that his practices are quite despicable.

Shin-Ching Lo's editing results in a relatively slow pace that suits the story nicely, although some transitions are abrupt to say the least, as the one with the mother's appearance, while the titular portraits, in the end emerge more as footnotes than something organically included in the narrative.

Apart from those minor issues, though, "The Fourth Portrait" is an excellent movie that bolsters an intriguing story, exquisite cinematography, and is rather well-acted and directed, in another testament to Chung Mong-hong filmmaking abilities.