Happy Old Year

The first and last scenes of Nawapol Thamrongrattanarit's Happy Old Year include a shot of an uncluttered, austere room. But there is a difference in how they are both presented: in the first instance, the room functions as an illustrative demonstration of minimalism, as Jean (Chutimon Chuengcharoensukying) wants to turn her house into an office space. At the end of the film, the same room evokes a different connotation, an empty house in the former, and an emptied room in the latter. Happy Old Year tells us that there is a difference between the two of them, in that one is meaningless, but the other does contain meaning and history.

Director Nawapol Thamrongrattanarit has explored the relationship between material objects and intangible memories in his previous works - his debut feature, 36, explored the role photographs have in creating and remembering memories. In Happy Old Year, clutter is not really just clutter, things are tied to memories and experiences, with some things bearing more meaning to others. A single meaningless picture becomes a major focal point in a couple's relationship. A reminder of a painful past to one may mean a desperate chance at reconnection for another.

Thus, to let things go (or in the film's original Thai title, to dump things) takes a bit of callousness. Additionally, in the process of doing so, it brings with it a hefty dose of guilt. Jean realizes this as she gets rid of more and more things. The cleanliness of an emptied room belies how messy and complicated the process of emptying is. And Nawapol does not see this as necessarily a positive thing; Jean also realizes that her actions have made her exactly like the person she hates the most. But that's the price of letting go - that guilt is something people have to carry with them for the rest of their lives.

Lockdown Diaries April Digest

A lot has happened since the last time I posted, huh? That's probably the understatement of the year. I started this blog as a travel diary of sorts, and now it's the complete opposite. The community quarantine should be a perfect time to sit back and watch a couple of movies, but anxiety makes watching anything a chore. That said, it's okay if your output, whether work or leisure, isn't up to snuff.

I've managed to watch a few things, and I'd like to share that with you guys. Enjoy.

Harana (Bautista, 2012)

A pleasant yet somber mood accompanies Benito Bautista's 2012 documentary Harana, chronicling guitarist Florante Aguilar as he tries to reconnect with his country's musical traditions.  He searches for and finds some of the last few remaining practitioners of Harana, a type of Filipino folk serenade. The idea of Harana fits the whole film, because this is a film of love stories - a man falling in love with his country and culture all over again, artists rediscovering the art that they so love, and, in its purest form, a man awkwardly professing his love through song.

Yet this film's love is also tinged with a kind of wistfulness, towards songs whose names are all but forgotten,  towards an artform that is still slowly dying out. The least we can do, Harana posits, is to remember these men and treasure their art for posterity's sake.

Clan of the White Lotus (Lo Lieh, 1980)

Gordon Liu may have entered mainstream consciousness as Pai Mei in Quentin Tarantino's Kill Bill Volume 2 (2004), but the storied actor has a long filmography that spans decades. In this particular Shaw Brothers film, Lo Lieh's 1980 film Clan of the White Lotus, the movie begins with Liu's character Hung killing a character named Pai Mei (perhaps an in medias res continuation of another Shaw Brothers film, Executioners from Shaolin (1977)). Though Tarantino's inspiration for his character comes from Chinese folklore (perhaps a character that broadly encompasses all these other fictional branchpoints), it's not a stretch to think he saw this movie at some point.

Liu is pitted against Pai Mei's twin: the White Lotus Priest, played by Lo Lieh himself. The priest is nigh invincible, spending most of the movie shrugging off our protagonist's attempts to kill him. He is only defeated when Hung learns the feminine fighting style of Mei-Hsiao (Kara Hui) and the acupuncture techniques of the doctor who treats him. In particular, Hung's training sequences with Mei-Hsiao involve him doing housework and caring for babies. For a movie genre (and time period) steeped in masculinity, it's a surprisingly egalitarian idea.

Violet Evergarden Gaiden: Eternity and the Automemory Doll (Fujita, 2019)

Perhaps it is apt that the last movie I saw in cinemas before the lockdown was Kyoto Animation's Violet Evergarden Gaiden: Eternity and the Automemory Doll, as it starts with a character placed in a sort of isolation - the sort that separates the rich and the poor, or the sheltered and the worldly. There is another kind of separation at play, hinted at in the first act and fleshed out a little more in the second act - the isolation brought upon by suffocating gender roles, where women are trapped in social situations they have little chance of escaping.

Despite all that, the film finds hope in the fashion fans of Violet Evergarden will no doubt be used to: where the act of communication breaks apart any cage and crosses any barrier, and conflict is not won through weapons, but words. Indeed, in the world of Violet Evergarden, words are a means towards freedom.

More posts coming up.