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Monday, 31 March 2008

The Absinthe of Absence

I am sorry that this is my first posting in several months. I wish I could just say that I've been really busy (which is partially true) but I have also been dealing with several serious health problems so I lost my interest as well as ability to watch and review films for a while.
Wiser Half is encouraging me to jump back on the boat and start enjoying the wonders of the silver screen, or in this day and age, the small computer screen, so I've been seeing a few things.
I'll try to come up with some things to say about them -- hopefully soon.

Tuesday, 11 December 2007

Viva Italia

Thanks to Netflix, I can establish "phases" in my screenings. I go through a particular genre or director, and then swerve into the next related subject, on and on. However, sometimes the connections are unintentional or a little more tangential than expected.

Recently, I've been having an "Italian moment." I started out with Roberto Benigni's "The Tiger and the Snow," a lightly political view of life in the midst of the current Iraq war. Like his classic "Life is Beautiful," Benigni did his best to overshadow politics with humor and sentiment in familial relationships. However I disagree with critics who think that he avoided political commentary altogether. No amount of gleeful dialogue can cover up the backdrops, and just because one does not show battles, does not mean that death is avoided. In fact, it was worse that the subject of death emerged where one would not expect it.

From that semi-fairy tale about dedication through all forms of obstacles, I watched "Coffee and Cigarettes," not knowing that Benigni appears in that film as well. It was interesting to hear him speak English, just interesting. He was as exuberant as he is in Italian, but the scene intrigued me because he had to contain that in a relatively serious character and hence measure his words. I must recommend "Coffee and Cigarettes" (by Jim Jarmusch) because of Cate Blanchett. If I could be any celebrity on earth, I would be Ms. Blanchett, so do go watch her talk to herself.

I ended this two-film streak with a jump into Argentinian life through "Family Law," a film about a father and a son who are both lawyers. Somehow I still thought of Italians, and hope that I'll find a film about Italians in Argentina...and keep going...viva Italia!

Tuesday, 30 October 2007

Double Feature: Small Village Life // Ethnic America

It has been a long while since my last entry because I am currently planning the next stage of my career. Although I love my present job, it is (sadly) only an one-year appointment so next year I'll be packing up my tent and moving on to a new location.

However, as always, films have provided much needed breaks from the exciting work associated with the job search. Two weeks ago, I watched two pieces that featured people walking out of churches prematurely. The first was Antonia's Line, a feminist love-it-or-hate-it, and the second, Sweet Land, a recent production about a German woman who is rejected then embraced by the Swedish-American community that she enters as a mail-order bride. The protagonist actually speaks Swedish (it is not clear whether she was born in Sweden but she immigrated from there, at the behest of her husband's parents) and understands Swedish culture but becomes the unwilling victim of anti-German sentiment after the First World War. Interestingly, and this line-up only occurred because of my Netflix queue being arranged as it were, Antonia's Line also illustrates the life story of a tough and unconventional woman, a Dutch widow, who returns to her home village (in the Netherlands) and becomes a kind of social liberal savior for the oppressed members of her community.

As a practicing feminist, both films warmed my heart. I don't endorse extreme feminism or the hatred of men, but I like to see women living up to their values. I'm not going to go any further about this topic but the underlying messages about small villages. I still feel like a transplanted individual in my present location, a city slicker doing my best to fit in and appreciate the charms of a tight-knit community. Therefore I was most likely projecting my own concerns and revelations about making the transition from urban to rural (and watch this blog next year when I move to yet another place -- probably not a village but a town or back to a sprawling urban center...). I have not yet walked out of a church as a form of protest here yet, but the idea that religion is not an absolute force even in places where church attendance is a vital social activity -- was new to me. It is a tremendous statement to leave any social arena, presumably in shame, and in the end of both films, the church-leavers were not punished for their bravery (or foolish behavior, depending on one's perspective) nor did the communities change in noticeable ways because of such acts. These depictions changed my mind about small villages and the customary fears that geographic isolation and cultural continuity breed close minds and stale social values. Granted, I live in a college village (we are not a town, officially speaking) that may be the exception to many rules -- but after watching these movies with explicitly liberal messages but very realistic environments dominated by conservative attitudes, I realize it's worth thinking twice about what the "small village" represents and how even the bastions of homogeneity are affected by the proverbial "winds of change."

And now for something completely different --
For the past week, I have been enjoying Tyler Perry's movies: Madea's Family Reunion and Daddy's Little Girls. I already have his latest production, Why Did I Get Married? (maybe that's a cautionary tale...), in my Netflix queue so I am looking forward to more wholesome and optimistic dramedies (drama-comedies) about the African-American experience in the US.
I didn't grow up into a metropolitan area (my hometown is slowly becoming a medium-sized city) so I did not have the same opportunities as many kids of my ethnic group to relate to other ethnic minorities. My high school had very visible African-American and Hispanic-American populations, in great part because they were so small compared to the European-American majority. I certainly didn't think about ethnic or racial politics back then, but all I knew was that in LA, New York City, and other cultural melting pots (or highly divided appetizer platters -- take your choice of metaphor), Asian-Americans were building solidarity (when not engaged in violent armed conflicts) with other hyphenated Americans. There were many common causes based on a rhetoric of discrimination, limited opportunities for advancement, and marginal status in "mainstream" American society. Even my father endorsed the multi-group coalition as a means of ensuring fair representation in politics and business. However, in my home area, all of these ideas were second-hand and not actively pursued.
In the thirteen years after leaving home for college, I have added more concrete experiences to my personal agenda of building connections but my exposure to certain cultures is still highly abstract. Therefore movies like Tyler Perry's oeuvres may be stilted representations but in place of actual immersion into hyphenated-American communities, which I hope to do more in the future, I am getting a better sense of why so many jokes emphasize that all ethnic Americans are the same. Again, relying on a trite statement, there's always a bit of truth in humor, and there's much that binds the African-American community with the Asian-American one. At the same time, this general statement should be taken with a grain of salt. The LA riots, the discrimination against one minority group by another -- these are all serious issues that keep ethnic groups divided...

Tuesday, 09 October 2007

Real Parents

Netflix resembles Forrest Gump's box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get.
Olivier Assayas' "Clean" starring Maggie Cheung and "The Italian," a Russian production, arrived at the same time so I watched them in turn. The two films are very different, only bound together by their European settings and use of multiple languages. However, both are about children immersed in the dilemma of finding and adopting their real parents. In 'Clean," Cheung is the proverbial delinquent parent, caring only about herself and her happiness and demonstrating little regard for the welfare of her son, who appropriately dislikes her, until she realizes that her flesh and blood is the only reason for her to continue living. This may seem both trite and overwrought but the execution is much more subtle than one would imagine. In "The Italian," the fortunate winner of the "adoptive parent lottery" decides to give up the prospect of living in sunny Italy with two warm-hearted parents in favor of finding his own mother -- and just as I was ready to burst into tears, the ending was happy, although not without much brutality exhibited by the Russian adoption racket.
Adoption has played a strange role in my life. I am not adopted nor do I have any adopted individuals in my known family circle. However, along with moderate feminism and ethnic harmony, I have championed the rights of children to comfortable and happy lives. I still believe that prospective parents should earn parenting licenses, with requisite classes in basic childcare and psychology. If we must obtain licenses for driving and marriage, I do not see the difference with parenting, a much greater commitment than either getting behind the wheel or agreeing to live with another adult. My mother has always mused that if I was not pursuing a career in higher education, I would be a preschool teacher, so my connection to children is cemented in my regard for their well-being.
Moreover, I have met many persons who were adopted, heard stories of successful and unsuccessful adoptions, and been deeply influenced by films like Annie that portray orphanages in dark, unflattering lights. "The Italian" depicts an orphanage that is relatively functional. Despite all the attendant miseries, all the residents care about one another, and even the director shows genuine compassion. Nevertheless, I still wish that all orphans could be placed with loving families. There is the dilemma of whether this system would breed more irresponsible and indifferent parents, who would feel naught a pang of guilt of disposing their child as much as they would drop off clothes at a charity store.
But back to the perfect world, I have considered adoption myself for many reasons. There is the motivation of political outrage that female children are routinely discarded by parents hoping for male progeny. There is also the selfish hope that my adopted children would have better vision and milder temperaments than me -- or in other words, I fear the revenge of genetics in the next generation. Fortunately, I have decided that any progeny I produce can resemble my Wiser Half, but my social conscience is not settled. If any child appeared on my doorstep, I wouldn't think twice about raising him or her.
What has gone through my mind, though, is how the child would feel. Would a Chinese adoptee feel unhappy that her mother is not Chinese? Would I be able to provide the "right" cultural environment for a child of another racial or ethnic background? And of course, would he or she always be discontent about being raised by strangers instead of "real parents"?
Both "Clean" and "The Italian" have persuaded me that "real parents" are so important that many adoptions may be futile. Perhaps there is some "real parent" urge that never goes away in children raised by non-parents, even if they are other relatives such as grandparents. Forgiveness, attraction, and affection also seem much more easily given by children to their own mother and father than even the kindest substitutes. Therefore, one must think even more gravely about having a child and of surviving until the child reaches adulthood and presumably has other emotional resources available (e.g. spouse, pet, child).
I have two cats who originally belonged solely to Wiser Half. Both are six and obviously adopted. They did not come from their natural feline parents, however, but from the halfway house (animal shelter) that cared for them when they were separated from their original residences. In one case, our cat decided to leave of his own accord but in the other, the first owners washed their hands clean of any responsibility. I still wonder if both cats, S and S, think of their old homes and former parents. It has been four years for me and six for Wiser Half, and "parenting" the cats is an edifying (and exhausting) experience. Yet a part of me acts as the moral guardian, pondering whether we are doing our utmost to make them happy and comfortable. I would like to think that we are doing at least as well as their "real parents," feline or human, and that when they reach Cat Heaven in some distant future, they will be proud to say that they enjoyed their mortal existence in our household.

Tuesday, 02 October 2007

faces and places: heung gong

apparently i am not a creature of habit, because as those of you who have read my blog over time have discovered, i tend to write only occasionally. this may be because i am trying to write several pages of other material daily, and simply run out of words (like a personal vocabulary quota) at the end of the day when i turn my mind to the creative -- or because i am an undisciplined person by nature. well, i'll leave the conclusion to you, dear reader.

for the past two weeks, i have been deeply submersed in the cheesy genre of hong kong magic realism. i've watched sammi cheng and andy lau pair up as ironic couples in comedies and tragedies. i've seen miriam yeung and tony leung do the same, going from one setting to another, but eternally in love with one another and with love itself. some of you may ask, "why bother?!" when i think of film as a high art. the plots are more or less the same. hong kong films are interesting in that death is just as acceptable of a conclusion as marriage to a romantic storyline but with the same a-list, b-list actors playing more or less the same parts in films that are made in two months by the same directors and producers, why bother?!!

well, perhaps my overuse of the word "same" in the last sentence tipped you off. what i see in those movies is actually "hong kong" itself. i see kowloon, i see hong kong island, i see the harbor in its full glory (i feel like i should spell that "harbour" in the nice british way that Wiser Half always uses) and as i decided a few days ago, i miss water. i miss being near a big ocean that is cold and filled with fish like tuna and halibut. i miss being able to look out and see large vessels, like the kind my father used to ride as a naval officer and later would repair as an engineer. part of me feels that as much as i love being carefully tucked into the middle of the country and the joys of the simple life here in central ohio -- i will always be a girl of the coast. born near the ocean and with all luck, destined to spend the last days of my life near one too. i'm not picky. i love all oceans equally. i've spent a total of 19 years on either side of the pacific ocean and 9 years near the atlantic, and i'd be happy being near the indian ocean or some subsidiary body like the mediterranean sea -- as long as i know i could build a proverbial raft and float out to the ocean. it's ironic, of course, that i focus so much of my research on people who lived in land-locked territories -- but maybe it makes sense. i bring the energy of the ocean-borne wind to their river and lake-based existences.

and this brings me back to missing hong kong terribly. i'm not from hong kong and i've only visited three times but all were good, so it's high time for another look around. well, for now, i'm happy to have many films that show me little bits and pieces, of loud, loud Central (the commercial center in the land of gold and silver), the breezy wooded areas around hong kong island, the government housing projects, the beaches that i adore more than anything (move over, fancy caribbean resort -- hong kong's beaches are premium-quality), and the harbor that links hong kong island with kowloon and that is home to my favorite moving thing -- the Star Ferry.

no, i didn't accept any compensation from the hong kong board of tourism or the hong kong film industry for that matter, and i wouldn't. i was just struck by the complete beauty of hong kong when i first saw bruce lee cross the harbor on his sampan in 1981 (i was three, you can do the math), and that love at first sight never diminished in strength...