Ah Chung may seem, on the surface, yet another Taiwanese film with characters that speak the Taiwanese dialect and dabbles in the lives of the lower stratum with a neorealistic flair. Tso-chi Chang, however, weaves together something that is so life-like that it captures the art and heart beyond the artifice of everyday life.
The story concerns a male youth named Ah Chung (or Diong-ah in the Taiwanese dialect) who graduates from high school and descends into a maelstrom of personal, familial, and communal conflicts. Ah Chung is going through the liminal stage of finding his place and aim in life. He is sent by his mother to a boot camp, training as one of the Eight Generals. This is a job in performing as a god in Taiwanese popular rituals and Ah Chung's mother believes it can bring spiritual and social goodwill to the much-troubled family: Financially strained mother who is a performer of "low-brow" entertainment, a kid brother who is somewhat retarded, a half-sister who is raped by his alcoholic father, and Ah Chung's listlessness which is easily sucked in by the local gang rivalry...
Chang's unobtrusive camera perfectly captures the tension, boredom, crisis, violence, and desire of a very particular way of Taiwanese life. The slow pace may put off viewers who are more used to the fast-paced action of super-suave elitism typical in Hollywood movies (as evidenced by one bored reviewer of Ah Chung at the Toronto Festival in '97/'98.) But Ah Chung will be a real treasure to those interested in unflinching, respectful, and honest portrayals of lives of resilience, courage, and will. Not to mention the gorgeous colors of the trance possession, melancholic lyricism of Ah Chung and grand-dad on the beach...
It is a testament that Taiwanese cinema should never put all its stakes on Hollywood imports. There is hope for all the stories and lives in need of being told.
The story concerns a male youth named Ah Chung (or Diong-ah in the Taiwanese dialect) who graduates from high school and descends into a maelstrom of personal, familial, and communal conflicts. Ah Chung is going through the liminal stage of finding his place and aim in life. He is sent by his mother to a boot camp, training as one of the Eight Generals. This is a job in performing as a god in Taiwanese popular rituals and Ah Chung's mother believes it can bring spiritual and social goodwill to the much-troubled family: Financially strained mother who is a performer of "low-brow" entertainment, a kid brother who is somewhat retarded, a half-sister who is raped by his alcoholic father, and Ah Chung's listlessness which is easily sucked in by the local gang rivalry...
Chang's unobtrusive camera perfectly captures the tension, boredom, crisis, violence, and desire of a very particular way of Taiwanese life. The slow pace may put off viewers who are more used to the fast-paced action of super-suave elitism typical in Hollywood movies (as evidenced by one bored reviewer of Ah Chung at the Toronto Festival in '97/'98.) But Ah Chung will be a real treasure to those interested in unflinching, respectful, and honest portrayals of lives of resilience, courage, and will. Not to mention the gorgeous colors of the trance possession, melancholic lyricism of Ah Chung and grand-dad on the beach...
It is a testament that Taiwanese cinema should never put all its stakes on Hollywood imports. There is hope for all the stories and lives in need of being told.
