From the archives: 4 Asian movies from 2021 you need to watch
2021…. and the pandemic continues. While Hollywood remains in a depressive and nostalgic mood, churning out remakes, franchise sequels, or period pieces, Asia moves on with powerful cinematic stories. Last year I wrote about the top 5 Asian movies from 2020 worth watching. Here’s this year’s recommendations:
*alert: minor spoilers follow*
1. China— Better Days
Originally premiered in Beijing in 2019, this movie has gradually trickled out onto the international scene. Better Days tells the probably-fictional story of Chen Nian, an intelligent young girl who becomes everyone’s bullying victim in the run up to the Gaokao — the extremely stressful Chinese high school examination exams which, by all accounts, will dictate what kind of life you will have. Protected by ne’er-do-well and inevitable love interest Xiao Bei, she struggles through the tests life throws at her (involving family, police, friends) before her final examination. It’s a well-balanced movie, the somewhat histrionic plot toned down by the rich acting from both Zhou Dongyu and Jacksoon Yee as well as some of the stunning cinematographic settings which match the tension.
Favorite moment: The baaaarely fictional aspect of it. Despite some overwrought plot points, as an international viewer you get a glimpse of what the Gaokao experience is like for millions of teenagers every year.
Least favorite moment: The “and then…. and then….” pattern it falls into towards the end of the film. It’s too much melodrama for very little emotional return. The movie could have been half an hour shorter, no problem.
2. Japan— Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy
You can’t talk about Fortune without talking about its director Ryusuke Hamaguchi, who in 2021 has definitely had a good year, winning the Berlinale with this movie, but drawing even more attention with Drive my car (see below). His minimalist approach to story-telling, centering on the mundaneness of life as a parting basis, allows him to philosophically explore human nature.
In Fortune we are introduced to three independent stories of three women who, through a small twist in an otherwise normal life, are forced to come to terms with their feelings of desire: In the first story, a woman visits her ex after her best friend begins to describe her new date; in the second, another woman tries to seduce her old professor after her boyfriend convinces her to do so in order to disgrace him; and in the third, a woman who goes back to her hometown for an uncomfortable high-school reunion ends up running into the person she was really hoping to see: her first love.
To write any more would be to give away the “fantasy” aspects of these stories. It is worth anyone’s while to sit back and take in all the aspects of the relationships in the three stories — makes you laugh, makes you cry.
Favorite moment: When she starts reading out loud the extremely pornographic book that he has published, and the eventual but imperceptible change in his disposition towards her.
Least favorite moment: Not all stories are equally strong. Luckily, it gets better as the movie goes on. It’s just as well: it takes a little bit of getting used to Hamaguchi’s style. Take the first story (which is still very good, and increasingly wild) to adjust to the movie, and enjoy the rest.
3. Korea: Hellbound
While the world jumped on the Squid Game wagon and saw hundreds of pink jumpsuits on everywhere from cupcakes to church signs, 2021’s “dark show from Korea” award should really go to Hellbound.
Brought to us by the same director who made Train to Busan, the series creates a world in which certain people get told by a spectral angel their exact time of death. When the time comes, three lumbering monsters made of smoke and muscle appear from the ether and violently and publicly execute the decreed. As society yearns for explanations to this phenomenon, it’s not long before institutions, first in the form of a cult and later as a church, are set up capitalizing on people’s fear and hysteria, while the heroes of the show hopelessly champion reason and pragmatism.
The series is split into two parts: the first one introduces these “decrees” and people’s initial reaction to the angel and the monsters, and the second includes a time skip and shows the world as it has adjusted to these beings appearing regularly and bringing wanton death. The series has some delicious elements that will keep you hooked: shockingly raw violence, sneaky twists in the story, and some not-so-subtle moral and theological philosophy for you to ponder.
Favorite moment: At some point a baby becomes a central part of the story, which is when you go “oh no you didn’t.” It’s not only highly distressing, it also adds a significant dimension to the world Yeon Sang-ho has built.
Least favorite moment: While I find the story to be very tight, I do find the script to be a little on the nose sometimes. The series can afford to be more subtle at times. Also, there is no reason for one of the main characters to suddenly have fighting and parkour skills.
4. Japan— Drive My Car
It’s rare that one director would release two films in one year, and much less likely that both of them would be so good, but that’s what Ryusuke Hamaguchi has done. Wheel of Fortune was a great watch, but Drive my Car is a different kind of experience.
It’s hard to talk about what the movie is about without giving away important spoilers, but the main part of the movie revolves around an actor-cum-director (Kafuku) working with a group of actors on a multilingual version of a Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya as he and others around him deal with personal grief and loss. The screenplay, adapted from a Haruki Murakami short story, takes a fresh look at the “play within a play” motif, taking the porous relationship between art and life to a new dimension, and demands a lot of the actors, much like Kafuku’s methods demand his actors to forge a deep relation with Chekhov’s text.
Just like Fortune, the movie’s gems are in the 99% imperceptible changes in the characters: the silent wave of emotion when receiving praise and affection; the quiet wisdom of a man resigning himself to betrayal; the change in the look of a man who realizes he has power over another.
This is not an easy watch — not because of its 3 hour runtime, which doesn’t feel long, but because you have to be engaged with the film from beginning to end to really appreciate it. You’ll enjoy putting different parts of the movie together after you’ve watched it, and relive the various ways in which and the reasons why Hamaguchi shifts and structures the story (e.g. when the center of gravity shifts from Kafuku to Watari). I recommend warming up to Hamaguchi’s style by watching Fortune first.
Favorite moment: When the Taiwanese actress and the mute Korean actress get to act out their Chekhov scene in the park. It’s delicate and intimate despite the fact that they are not able to communicate with each other outside the play. It drives the main plot forward — they’ve finally moved past reading the script! — and it’s a sophisticated bit of acting that sends chills. It’s also beautifully crafted because even though the other actors and the director are there, the two ladies mainly have their backs turned to them, so only we are privy to the intimacy of the scene. Equally priceless is Takatsuki’s look of disbelief when the scene ends. It’s just a second and a half that the camera captures almost by accident, but it will set off a sequence of events that lead to the end of the film.
Least favorite moment: If you are a Murakami detractor, like myself, the typical Murakami symbols can be an exasperating distraction. Vinyls playing jazz, lonely people unable to express their emotions, a weird obsession with unusual sexual activity (e.g. the wife who goes into a post-coital story-telling trance) — tired Murakami tropes in what feels like every story of his. Don’t let that distract you from an otherwise excellent movie.
