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Photo courtesy of zeitgeistfilms.com.

Best of 2005: Films

By APA Staff

It was a good year for Asian cinefiles. So good, in fact, that we had to expand our list, from ten to fifteen, with plenty more worthy titles left out in the cold. Don't believe us, check the honorable mentions, which include a Cannes favorite (China's Shanghai Dreams) and an Oscar hopeful (India's Paheli).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1. The World

The theme park at the middle of Jia Zhang-ke’s unparalleled masterpiece The World has been the analogy of the year. Here at Beijing’s World Park, miniatures from around the globe are displayed for tourists flocking to China’s capitol from around the country. In one corner is a mini Taj Mahal, in another is the Eiffel Tower. The twin towers stand tall in the replica of the New York skyline, and as one tour guide informs us, the U.S. may have lost them in 9/11, but “we’ve still got them.” The theme park embodies the way countries, organizations, political parties and film festivals present an idea of “the world” to us, and for those without passports, cash, or power, this illusion of the world beyond our borders is all we have to concoct our ideas of who we are as a nation or culture. Jia’s film incredibly fictionalizes the lives of those who come to Beijing from throughout China to work at the park, exploring their desires to travel, love, and live in juxtaposition with the bizarre fantasyland surrounding them. One is a dancer who befriends a fellow dancer from another post-Socialist country, Russia. Another is a security guard who meets a fashion designer dreaming about her husband who has stowed away to Paris’s Chinatown. The film weaves together these relationships with the utmost grace and precision, embodied by the fabulous opening tracking shot through the theme park’s dressing room where employees are seen preparing to perform a conception of “The World,” a world they could never actually experience. Ambitious, intelligent, relevant, flamboyant, and crushing, The World is quite easily the film of the year.  -- Brian Hu

Asia Pacific Arts: Presenting The World

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2. Brokeback Mountain

From the haunting tremors of Gustavo Santaolalla's acoustic guitar instrumentals to the breathtaking western landscapes that envelop the story, it's the details of Ang Lee's Brokeback Mountain that capture the sincerity and melancholic isolation of forbidden love between Ennis Del Mar (Heath Ledger) and Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal). A true epic romance based on a short story by E. Annie Proulx, the film spans several decades as the men meet and their relationship develops. They struggle to weigh their socially expected responsibilities as husbands and fathers with the passion that they know in their hearts but dare not express publicly. Both wildly romantic and heavy with realism, the film captures the loneliness of feeling trapped and the pain of not being brave enough to escape conformity. With poignant performances by the cast and delicate, masterful direction by Ang Lee, Brokeback has deservedly emerged as one of the top contenders come Oscar time.  -- Ada Tseng

Asia Pacific Arts: Crouching Tiger, Hidden Fortress: Ang Lee bends, but doesn't break under Tinseltown's iron fist

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3. Three Times / Cafe Lumiere (tie)

This pair of films could easily be called the most minor entries to Hou’s oeuvre since the early '80s, but the fact that they were still among the year’s most entertaining, romantic, and beautiful films is testament to the fact that Hou is still one of the world’s best and most experimental narrative filmmakers. Three Times is told in three segments which represent the idea of “love” in three periods of Taiwan’s last 100 years. The first is a nostalgic tale of innocence, the second is a silent film depicting life in a brothel during Japanese colonialism, and the third is an elliptical portrait of the torturous ways contemporary Taipei youth represent themselves as musicians, loners, and lovers. Café Lumiere is practically straight non-narrative: the brief moments of narrative progression drift by so quickly and in such hushed tones to be of near non-importance. What’s left is the pure admiration of the sights, shapes, and sounds of Tokyo by day. Both films are shot by the terrific cinematographer Mark Lee Ping-bing, but it is Hou’s patient eye that weaves Lee’s sparkling images together in exhilarating expressions of love in all its glorious forms: romantic love, familial love, musical love, and of course, movie love.  -- Brian Hu

Asia Pacific Arts: Darkness and Light

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4. The Great Yokai War

Anarchy has to be bleak because it can't be as devastatingly funny as Miike portrays it in his faux children’s fantasy film The Great Yokai War. Then again, devastating has always been the operative word in Miike’s wildly varied oeuvre. There isn’t much that Miike holds sacred, least of all conventional wisdom, which dictates, among other things, that cute, cuddly creatures are meant to be coddled, not mutilated. As is the case in most, nay, all of Miike films, there’s a trace of casual nihilism that’s too routinely filtered through the foggiest of postmodern lenses. Luckily, Miike -- and the hard-at-work CGI team that aids him -- is at his best when you least expect it. Call him the Master of Pretense and The Great Yokai War his cleverest disguise.  -- Chi Tung

Asia Pacific Arts: The Princess and Pikachu: AFI/AFM overview, Part One

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5. Sympathy for Lady Vengeance

Park Chan-wook’s revenge trilogy comes to a bloody, thrilling conclusion as Lee Young-ae turns murder and mayhem into a cakewalk. As the mysterious “gentle Ms. Geum-ja,” Lee once again proves her acting chops in a performance that walks a very delicate line between saint and sinner in this tale of kidnapping, murder, prison, revenge, and of baking. More controlled than Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance and more meditative than Oldboy, Lady Vengeance is a perfect close for this eerie trinity of films. As usual, critics can’t decide if they love or hate this last, gruesome offering from Park, but all agree that once again the vision is clear, brutal, and brilliant. -- Jennifer Flinn

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

6. Jump! Boys

On the surface, Lin Yu-hsien’s Jump! Boys is a heartwarming documentary about adorable six year-old gymnasts in leotards. Below that surface, however, is a much darker exploration of the way has-been stars and athletes attempt to take control of their own lives long after the media has finished hailing them as local heroes. The film is also an emotional critique of a society with no sympathy for second-place. Jump! Boys is therefore not about the kids as much as it is about the documentarian’s older brother, a former gymnast on the international stage who sustained a career-ending injury, turned to crime, and is now working as an elementary school gymnastics coach. His sense of competition and national pride is still there, and he places on his students those same values he grew up with and ultimately fell to. Yet we definitely sense a hesitation now, particularly when he’s interviewed by his younger brother, and we hear in his heartfelt testimonies a simultaneous hope and tragedy about this society which places such a scarring expectations on children to become number one -- be it in athletics, schooling, or music. Thus the film is a letter of admiration from one brother to another, as if to say, “I know you’ve been through a lot, but you are appreciated.” Jump! Boys exemplifies why Taiwan cinema should move toward more light and accessible subjects; under the right direction, serious and moving ideas can still be communicated and there may even be a local audience to hear them.  -- Brian Hu

Asia Pacific Arts: Column: The Taipei Beat (#2)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

7. Welcome to Dongmakgol

We laughed, we cried, and it was definitely better than Cats. This unique comedy/drama/fantasy genera blend about the Korean War not only won kudos from critics at home and abroad, but was selected as South Korea’s entry for the Oscars. Jang Jin’s work moved seamlessly from the stage to the screen under the sensitive direction of Park Kwang-hyun and the talented ensemble, which included the perenially underappreciated Shin Ha-gyun (though not by us, of course; see our '05 list of male entertainers), shone. The quirky story of soldiers from all sides of the conflict adrift in a mysterious village doesn’t seem like the stuff of blockbusters, but Korean audiences flocked to theaters this summer nevertheless. Hopefully international audiences will have their own chance soon.

-- Jennifer Flinn

Asia Pacific Arts: Korea's answer to M*A*S*H?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

8. The Wayward Cloud

The range of reactions to Tsai Ming-liang’s newest feature The Wayward Cloud is indicative of the film’s shocking nature as well as Tsai’s willingness to play by nobody’s expectations of his work. While it contains all of Tsai’s usual tics and obsessions (excessively long takes, an absence of dialogue, water as symbol of vitality), it seems a break on a number of levels. First, it’s by far his most colorful film -- and I’m not just talking about the magnificent musical numbers that trump anything in Dancer in the Dark, 8 Women, Everyone Says I Love You, or even Tsai’s own The Hole. The whole film is dipped in Taiwan’s multicolor palette, from the greens of Kaohsiung to the deep red of the ubiquitous watermelons. Second, unlike his previous films, this isn’t a film about the desire for and fascination with sexuality (much more accessible and marketable themes) but rather the necessity of sexuality, so it therefore shocks many viewers that the scene’s controversial final scene seems a condemnation of the libidinous drive or a criticism of pornography, a genre based in many ways on the same assumptions about sexuality that have informed Tsai’s own previous films. Finally, this is Tsai’s most emotionally direct film to date. The romantic scenes are surprisingly sweet and the disturbing ones as punishing and grotesque as anything on the film festival circuit. This emotionally directness perhaps is not unrelated to the expressive use of colors and the unusually strong stance on sexuality, and though I’m sure I prefer the emotional ambiguity that ended his Vive l’amour and The River, I find the heavy hitting of The Wayward Cloud a welcome indication that Tsai has a few extra tricks up his sleeve that we've yet to see.  -- Brian Hu

Asia Pacific Arts: Column: The Taipei Beat (#1)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

9. Swades

With Swades, director Ashutosh Gowariker more than fulfilled high expectations after his pervious feature Lagaan became a box-office smash and was nominated for an Oscar. Like many films about the non-resident Indian living abroad, Swades is nostalgic for the South-Asian homeland and uses music, dance, and beautiful Indian women to convince the wealthy immigrant that his heart still belongs to India. What makes Swades special is the uncommon seriousness and conviction Gowariker gives to the story, transcending the obvious genre clichés and focusing instead on what makes the characters interesting and realistic. For example, lead actor Shahrukh Khan surprises by being dramatic without being overly-so; when he trots into the small Indian town struttin’ his stuff, he does it as an ignorant Indian-American rather than as Shahrukh Khan, ruler of Bollywood. The film doesn’t shy away from class issues, another surprise for a Bollywood film about the elite in America. Many moments include rural characters discussing seriously questions of modernization, Americanization, and the figure of the NRI in relation to traditional “Indian”-ness. These are hefty issues for any cinema let alone Bollywood, and Gowariker handles them with style and emotional realism. The closing song by composer A.R. Rahman and lyricist Javed Akhtar is one of the best film songs in years, and a fitting, poignant end to Gowariker’s three-and-a-half hour melodrama.  -- Brian Hu

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

10. Pulse

One of the world’s best genre filmmakers, Kiyoshi Kurosawa tackles the supernatural horror genre in Pulse, for my money the best of the post-Ringu Asian horror cycle. Made in 2001, the cyber-ghost thriller received a low-profile American release in 2005 and those who got a whiff of Kurosawa’s freakish red doorframes, stifling silences, and ghostly computer artifacts were lucky enough to experience not only a brilliant deconstruction of the genre’s reliance on “heroes” and “experts,” but also one of the most deliriously creepy films in recent years. The film’s anxiety about the promise of technology seems to suffocate us by refusing to answer any of our many questions or provide any suitable explanations. Sure, there are clues (a possibly mad grad student, repeating computer images, the ubiquitous color red), but they come together only if we’re crazy enough to connect dots we’re not sure are there. The apocalyptic ending raises more questions than answers, and that’s just what Kurosawa wants us to do: question our assumptions about technological progress, cultural notions of the supernatural, and cinema as an apparatus for horror.  -- Brian Hu

Asia Pacific Arts: Ghostbusters

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

11. Peacock

Shedding the baggage that comes with being one of Zhang Yimou and Chen Kaige’s top cinematographers, Gu Changwei develops his own visual and narrative style in his feature debut, a film as mesmerizing narratively as it is sumptuous visually. A paratrooper appears and disappears like an entry in one’s diary and becomes one of the film’s most prominent symbols; the soldier’s presence in a young girl’s life sets off waves of sexual imagination and curiosity for a life outside the confines of a somewhat dysfunctional family. That premise evokes Yellow Earth, but unlike Chen’s film, Peacock is not a critique of the Cultural Revolution, but an exploration of the moods and emotions bubbling to the surface of the Henan family during those years. The elliptical strategy, the bitter nostalgia, and the first-person narration evoke the early work of Hou Hsiao-hsien, but Gu’s use of occasional, fleeting moments of beauty -- a parachute hitched to the back of a bicycle (evoking the image of a peacock); a middle-age accordionist performing a Korean dance by memory -- remind one of Hou’s later films like Goodbye South, Goodbye and Millennium Mambo. Gu never plays beauty or nostalgia for their own sakes; scenes of momentary grandeur are typically punctuated by unexpected bouts of sadness. It’s easy to point out the film’s aesthetic imperfections (the film’s three-part structure starts to wear down the viewer; the use of music is a tad too obvious), but if recognizing that a film of such ambition and emotional truth is a feature film debut, it’s hard not to be impressed.  -- Brian Hu

Asia Pacific Arts: Peacock spreads its tale, but slowly

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

12. Kung Fu Hustle

Although there's already a precedent for Stephen Chow's raucous blend of chop-suey and rags-to-riches narrative -- see 1972's Boxer from Shantung for a much scarier representation of the axe gang -- there were few films in '05 that matched Kung Fu Hustle's infectious energy and fearless bravado. At the center of it all was Chow, kickin' ass and takin names, and proving that in the 21st century, martial artists don't have to be ideologically sound. Endlessly plundering pop culture and flaunting a sense of humor that was crude at best, Chow nevertheless crafted a film that paid homage to its past while flicking its middle finger at the present. The only audience members being hustled? The ones who expected their wuxia authentic, not acidic.  -- Chi Tung 

Asia Pacific Arts: He Said, Chi Said: Kung Fu Hustle

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

13. Tony Takitani

In the world of distribution/exhibition, Ichikawa Jun’s Tony Takitani deserves special mention, as it is the first Ichikawa film -- to my knowledge -- that received a limited theatrical release in America. A watershed moment for any director or film, but especially for Ichikawa, whose work still remains shadowed by those of the generations following his. Tony Takitani’s meditative mood, performances, pace and “simple” subject of the life of an isolated illustrator and his short-lived conjugal life may put off even the most attentive of spectators, but it is the film’s subtlety and quiet refusal of resorting to overly explanatory dialogue and visual conventions that has seduced spectators to enter this still life in movement. A visual contradiction? Perhaps so, but Ichikawa’s portrait of a subdued middle-aged man and his first encounter with love proves that in each of our circumscribed worlds, we can still be moved.  -- Rowena Aquino

Asia Pacific Arts: Murakami meets Ichikawa: Between Light and Air

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

14. The President's Last Bang

First things first -- calling Im Sang Soo’s, ahem, reconstruction of the events relating to the assassination of President Park Chun-hee a biopic is like confusing Johnny Cash with Joaquin Phoenix. That it’s historically fuzzy and dramatized beyond proportion is inevitable; that it remains one of the blackest, boldest parodies to come out of Korea in years makes it indispensable. Well, almost indispensable. Truth is, The President’s Last Bang would’ve scored higher on our list if the two halves of the film -- the first satirical and minimal, the second maniacal and stylish -- weren’t such oceans apart. As it stands, it’s an engrossing exercise on how absolute power absolutely corrupts, and that history this twisted couldn’t possibly repeat itself. -- Chi Tung   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

15. Howl's Moving Castle

Each of Miyazaki’s jewel-like films is something to treasure, and even the dullest of them shine more brightly than most other directors' best works. Howl’s Moving Castle may be difficult to follow with its ever-shifting characters and settings, but this tale of a young woman cursed to -- take a deep breath now -- being old before her time while finding wisdom, strength and love working for an egomaniac wizard with a chicken-shaped castle that goes on demon-powered walkabout is still a wonder. Gentle storytelling and enchanting visuals have all the watermarks of Miyazaki’s unusual and touching dedication to animation not just as a storytelling method, but as an art form.  -- Jennifer Flinn

Asia Pacific Arts: Howling Wolf: Miyazaki sings some kind o' blues

 

 

Honorable mention: Election, Perhaps Love, Dumplings, Saving Face, Paheli, Black, After Innocence, Shanghai Dreams, Sunflower, S.P.L., Beautiful Boxer, Delamu, Kekexili

Date Posted: 12/31/2005