Favorite Films of 2014

10. The Skeleton Twins

Courtesy of Roadside Attractions. 

Bill Hader and Kristen Wiig in a tragicomedy about family, identity, depression, infidelity and death. Sounds dark, but it's the sort of treatment that will give you the warm and fuzzies and make you want to hug your sibling(s). 

9. Gone Girl

Courtesy of 20th Century Fox.

As a fan of Gillian Flynn's Definitive Novel of 2012, my blood began to simmer at the news of a film adaptation, then quickly cooled when I learned that David Fincher was at the helm. Even after the news of Ben Affleck's casting as the lead (he does have the perfect creepy smile), I kept my trust in the Fincher, and boy did he deliver. Rosamund Pike is divine as psychopathic Amy, and that last scene with Neil Patrick Harris as Desi is nothing short of perfection. Please let this be a shining example of why more novelists should pen their own adapted screenplays.

8. The Trip to Italy

Courtesy of IFC Films.

I was first introduced to the delightful celebrity-impersonating comedians Rob Brydon and Steve Coogan when a screener of Michael Winterbottom's 2010 film The Trip landed in my PO Box when I was covering the San Francisco International Film Festival as an undergrad. Equally enchanted and bewildered by the kooky, epicurean road trip, I wasn't entirely sure when I began my review whether it was documentary or feature film. Four years later, as soon as I saw the sequel in the SFIFF program, I immediately added the screening to my calendar. A little more "serious" than the original, The Trip to Italy still has lots of heart beneath the humor. All those close-ups of handmade pasta and sunlight piercing the Mediterranean made me long for the Amalfi coast.

7. Obvious Child

Courtesy of A24.

The abortion comedy. Swallow the questions and preconceived notions that are undoubtedly reverse peristalsis-ing towards your oral cavity and run - don't walk - to the computer. Find this movie. Watch it. And let us all join hands and crown actress-comedian Jenny Slate the new Lena Dunham of girl crushes.

6. Chef

Courtesy of Open Road Films.

Maybe I'd gone soft from the nostalgia that Jon Favreau's film evoked of my time working on a food truck in Paris, but he seemed to really get food. He captured the lifestyle (the colorful Spanglish, the dick jokes, the camaraderie, the terrible hours, the near-nonexistent personal life) and spun it into a fun, vivid tale of how a passion project isn't necessarily a suicide mission, especially in an industry where the vast majority of new businesses fail. At a time when my professional life was less than ideal, Chef reminded me of why we do what we do.

5. Interstellar

Courtesy of Warner Brothers.

I bookmarked this Vulture article and read it after I'd seen the film, and all the little mental stirrings and reservations I had while watching suddenly dissipated. This is not to say that Ben Kenigsberg's interpretation is the only - or even the best - explanation, but for me it filled in the gaps, added another dimension to the story and, ultimately, elevated the film as a whole. Christopher Nolan, though talented, is far from a perfect filmmaker, yet Interstellar is as close to a perfect balance between form and content that he's hit since Memento. Sort of like last year's Her, if you saw Interstellar and didn't enjoy it at least a little, then there's a good chance that it went soaring over your head.

4. Life Itself

Courtesy of Magnolia Pictures.

In addition to the reviews by local critic Moira Macdonald, Roger Ebert's opinions were the ones I trusted most when deciding whether or not to see a film. Later on a touchstone for my own film writing when I felt out of touch with objectivity, Ebert's articles were always reliably straightforward and unpretentious. He didn't fool around with the flowery, erudite language of academia; rather, he was the people's critic. But more importantly than that, he never strayed from the Fundamental Role of a reviewer, as taught to me by my high school journalism teacher: to assess the degree to which the artist succeeded in achieving whatever it was that he/she set out to achieve. In other words, you can't judge a Michael Bay film using the same framework as you would a Darren Aronofsky film. (Unless, maybe, the film in question is Noah. Oof). But I digress. Life Itself was a poignant reminder of how much Ebert inspired me as a film watcher, writer and lover. 

3. Dear White People

Courtesy of Lionsgate.

This is the type of satire that will make you squirm in your seat and cringe as you laugh, because Justin Simien's script is just. That. On. Point. Set on a fictional Ivy League college campus, gleaming ivory tower of white privilege and self-delusional notions of post-racism, the multi-protagonist narrative follows several African American students as they try to reconcile their own emerging identities with the ones pop culture tries to force on them, as well as the everyday struggle of being, as per the tagline, "a black face in a white place." The climax of the film is a blackface party hosted by a white fraternity. Think that sounds too outlandish? Google it. Sadly, this is one of the instances when art imitates reality.

2. Birdman (or the Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)

Courtesy of Fox Searchlight.

This was a close call but, alas, I had already pledged my allegiance to Boyhood as number one this year. Complex, philosophical and witty beyond measure, Alejandro González Iñárritu's film is a caustic assessment of the current state of cinema through the prism of theater. Michael Keaton stars as Riggan, a fading actor best known for his long-ago superhero character Birdman, whose last-ditch attempt to revamp his career by way of writing, starring in and directing a Broadway play may just completely derail him. Keaton himself is probably best remembered by most as a pre-Nolan Batman. Meta, much? Opposite him, Edward Norton as Mike, a pretentious theater actor, lobs the sharpest criticisms of commercial studio films while touting himself as a pure artist. Shot and edited to resemble a single take, Birdman is a tightly-wound, intimate portrait of a comically tortured soul.

1. Boyhood

Courtesy of IFC Films.

Groundbreaking. Brilliant. Breathtaking. These are the buzzwords that have been circling Richard Linklater's Boyhood since its first screening. And, frankly, how else can you possibly describe such a cinematic undertaking? For twelve years, Linklater filmed actor Ellar Coltrane in order to make an epic, accurate coming-of-age film. What you get out of the movie depends on which side of the age spectrum you fall on, and whether or not you're a parent. Being only slightly older than the protagonist is at the end, when he starts college, I found most of the film highly relatable to my own childhood experience. Like him, I also went to midnight Harry Potter book release parties, nearly pissed myself laughing the first time I watched Will Ferrell's viral video "The Landlord," felt confused and hurt after breaking up with my high school boyfriend, etc. But the nostalgia and sentimentality of hearing Coldplay's "Yellow" and Phoenix's "Lisztomania" are only part of what makes it so captivating. Without prosthetic aging makeup or changing actors, there's no need to suspend your disbelief; the narrative unfolds, seemingly in real-time, and pulls you in.  

Honorable mentions: Art and Craft, Big Hero 6, Frank, The Grand Budapest Hotel, Guardians of the Galaxy, Nightcrawler, Snowpiercer.

Apparently I was too lazy to compile a 2013 list. Here are my picks for 2012, with links to even older lists should you wish to travel further back in time.

Film Festival Report, Tokyo Edition

I'm in Tokyo right now covering the Tokyo International Film Festival. As far as festivals go, TIFF could be a little more organized, but there are always some barriers to language and communication. But as far as bilingual festivals go - it's great! Japanese subtitles are on the right side of the screen, meaning there aren't two rows of text at the bottom of the screen like there were at Cannes and Venice. How else does TIFF compare? Let's see...

Cost 

TIFF is centered at the swanky Roppongi Hills, a large shopping/business/entertainment complex situated in one of the major expat neighborhoods in Tokyo. I found a decent studio nearby on Airbnb, which cost about as much as my flight from San Francisco to Taipei.  

Free Swag 

When I checked in to get my press badge, I received a cute canvas totebag with the TIFF logo, along with a copy of the official program that lists all the films this year. (They try to gouge you at other festivals by selling these for somewhere around $30).

Social Scene 

Approximately 97% of the press here is Japanese. The thing about Japanese people is that, while most understand at least a little English, many are reluctant to speak it because they are embarrassed of their accent. So what you see is all of the non-Japanese (i.e. white) journalists congregating. I get it - like Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson in Lost in Translation, you are automatically bonded over your inability to communicate with everyone else around you. 

Venue 

Roppongi Hills is nice, but a bit confusing to navigate at first. The main cinema has comfortable seats that are pitched such that you have a good view of the screen regardless of where you sit. The climate control can be a little wonky - sometimes entering an auditorium that has already shown several screenings that day it can smell like a wet dog. 

*You want to avoid talking to other journalists too much about films you haven't published reviews of yet, because you never know whether they might take your ideas.

You can see my TIFF coverage here. Previous festival clips are on the Writing page.

Good Morning Middle-earth

Australia may have gotten away with all the biodiversity, but New Zealand has pretty much any kind of climate/landscape (rainforest, beach, snow-capped mountain, lake, etc) you could possibly want to see all crammed into its two relatively small islands. This plethora of natural features unblemished by power lines, roads and signs of modernity is why Peter Jackson, apart from being a kiwi himsef, wanted to film The Lord of the Rings and Hobbit trilogies there. Many of the filming locations are on the South Island, which I did not visit on this trip, but about two hours south of Auckland is the Waikato region, whose rolling green hills serve as the back drop for the shire, home of the hobbits. 

All tours begin at the Shire's Rest, where buses depart for Hobbiton (only about ten minutes away but completely hidden by hills from the main road). And as you walk between the hobbit holes and around the lake and party tree, you learn quite a bit about the production as well.  

A few fun facts: 

- Around 40 hobbit holes were constructed, generally to a scale between 40-60% in order to force perspective and make two normal-sized actors match the expected heights of their characters (e.g. Gandalf and Frodo). Bag End is the only full-size hobbit hole.

- The sheep farm where Hobbiton was built is so remote that, before filming for LotR, Jackson - via the government - enlisted help from the New Zealand army to construct a road so that cast and crew could access the site easily. 

- Jackson is a perfectionist and sought to remove all native plants and animals from the set; the plants were easy but the animals less so. Frogs from the original pond were simply moved to another further away, but in order to get the native birds to leave the crew regularly set off explosives in the days leading up to filming so that the noise would scare them off. 

A few photos below. See the rest here.

(That moss in the first picture is fake, btw. Looks real though doesn't it?) 

Bangkok After Hours

If Last Life in the Universe was my cinematic reference for Chiang Mai, then Bangkok's has to be Only God Forgives. Without delving too far into critic mode, this second collaboration between Nicolas Winding Refn and Ryan Gosling really doesn't live up to the precedent set by Drive, but aside from a memorable performance from Kristin Scott Thomas, the film presents an eery portrait of the city's nightlife and its main attractions - boxing and sex. 

I've been fortunate enough that physical violence is something I've only ever experienced through the media and entertainment (same for war and, to a certain degree, politics), so seeing an actual fight up close (literally - we had ringside seats) was nothing short of surreal. From watching and studying films, I knew that sound plays a pivotal role in making fight sequences seem real; I was conditioned to expect to hear it each time the fighters made contact, so I was surprised when I didn't. But even though I couldn't hear the impact of each blow, I could sense it in other ways - from the crowd's reaction and the drops of sweat (and occasionally blood) flying through the air. Curiously, the match had a soundtrack of its own: a small band playing traditional instruments. The fighters moved, shifting their weight from side to side in time with the drum beat like a sort of dance.

I had read online that foreigners will occasionally enter the ring, and the night we went was no exception. The most memorable match was between a Polish guy who was at least a good head taller than his Thai opponent. I was hoping that the Thai boxer would wipe the floor with the European but, alas, the white man's reach was longer and he kept going for the head. The Thai guy got him in the crotch pretty early on, and afterwards the Polish boxer became noticeably more vicious. By the final round the Thai boxer seemed to be using all his energy just to remain on his feet; his arms drooped, no longer protecting his head, and he moved sluggishly.

Originally, the other event I was interested in was the famous ping pong shows. No, not people playing table tennis, but rather women shooting a diverse assortment of objects out of their vaginas (including ping pong balls, razor blades and live animals) on a stage. Admit it, the description alone piques curiosity.

But the more I heard about it from others who had gone, the less fascinating it seemed. Apparently the women who perform in the shows are all older - retired prostitutes, I presume - and just, in one traveler's words, "Clearly not wanting to be there." After the initial novelty wore off, the show was just depressing.

So, instead of seeing a ping pong show or ladyboy cabaret, we joined the throng of tourists and locals at Khao San Road, drinking and dancing the night away. For some people nights like those are the reason to go to Thailand, but personally I much preferred Bangkok by day.

Falling for Chiang Mai

Despite being Thailand's second-largest city, Chiang Mai has a wonderfully friendly, laid-back vibe with a historical center full of Buddhist temples, coffee shops (with free wifi), delicious street food (a meal will set you back 1-2 USD) and a surprising number of vintage and second-hand clothing boutiques. Call it quirky, hipster, offbeat or whatever other alternative synonym, but the more I wandered around, the more I was reminded of the film Last Life in the Universe.  (Which, if we're being entirely accurate, was actually shot in Bangkok, but whatever it was still my first glimpse of Thailand).

It's the general atmosphere, I guess - a strange serenity beneath which lies a hazy malaise. (Dare I say it's vaguely Lynchian in that respect?) But even years later, I can't think about that movie without also remembering the boy who introduced it to me; who I harbored an all-consuming crush on for much of middle and high school, and who also turned me on to other films that I would later count amongst my favorites. I haven't been in touch with him for quite some time, but I often wonder what he's up to now. (Confession: thanks to Google, I sort of know the answer).

I've never been the type of girl to constantly chase after potential boyfriends, but the amount of wedding and engagement updates polluting my Facebook newsfeed in recent months has got me thinking or, to be perfectly honest, feeling slightly anxious. I thought your (early) twenties was the time to figure yourself out and start a career, not a family.  But to each their own priorities, I suppose.

And yet, these days I find myself reflecting on the last few guys I felt any kind of connection with; the one that I met my last night at Stanford; the platonic friend in Paris who surprised me with a kiss when we said goodbye; the one that I came to know during my last hours in India. (If there's one generalization I can make about my personal life it's that the timing is always suboptimal). I know that it's dangerous to spend too many thoughts elaborating on the words "what if," but sometimes temptation wins out over logic and reason. 

What if I hadn't left when I did? Where would we be now? 

*** 

If you go... 

Enjoy coffee and unpretentious health food at Bird's Nest Cafe. 

Take a class at Yoga Tree (drop-ins welcome). 

Get a massage, meal or both at the Chiang Mai Women's Prison Massage Center, which equips inmates with vocational skills.

*** 

A Walk Through Almodóvar's Madrid

Towards the end of my sophomore year in college I took a class exclusively dedicated to the works of Spanish film director Pedro Almodóvar. Twice a week we met over the course of the quarter: once to watch one of his films, and again to discuss it in the context of the assigned reading. Some of the texts were easier to digest than others; some were in English, some in Spanish; and some, despite repeated readings for other classes, I still never quite understood (Laura Mulvey's "Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema," anyone?). But to this day, The Cinema of Pedro Almodóvar remains one of my favorite classes ever, and was a decisive factor when it came time to select a major. (Famously, I made a pros and con chart to choose between English, Film Studies, Anthropology and Environmental Science; in the end I went with anthro but minored in film).

I don't know if it's exactly fair to call Almodóvar my favorite director, but thanks to that course I have seen almost all of his films and quite like most of them. (There are other filmmakers that I greatly admire, but I don't feel that I've seen enough of their work to know whether the appreciation of their style exceeds the few examples that I am familiar with). Almodóvar's specialty is in creating stories that are endearingly kitschy and visually vibrant with characters that are real, though often not entirely realistic. Watching his films, which he writes himself, it often feels as though they take place in a parallel universe. Sexuality (and, inevitably, sex) is one of his most prevalent themes, and the director definitely has some, er, unique takes on it (see: Matador and La piel que habito). 

Thus far in his career Almodóvar has only worked in his home country, with a penchant for setting his films in the capital, incorporating well-known landmarks and places that played a role in his youth. Put simply, Almodóvar is to Madrid as Woody Allen is to New York. So between siestas, tapas, and hitting up all the requisite sites and monuments, I decided to track down some of the filming locations.

1. Telefónico building. Gran Vía, 28. Visible from the rooftop of Pepa's (Carmen Maura) building in Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios (Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown). A nod to the director's past employment when he first came to Madrid.
2. Plaza Mayor.  Where Ángel (Juan Echanove) dances one evening in La flor de mi secreto (Flower of My Secret).
3. UGT office, formerly the Convent of Santa Maria Magdalena. Calle Hortaleza, 88. The convent where Entre Tinieblas (Dark Habits) takes place. 
4. Círculo de Bellas Artes. Calle Alcalá, 42. Where Andrea (Victoria Abril) and Nicholas (Peter Coyote) can be spotted in Kika.
5. Cine Doré. Calle de Santa Isabel, 3. Benigno (Javier Cámara) watches a film here, in Hable con ella (Talk to Her), on one of his free evenings, which influences him to do something very crucial in the story... 
6. Calle Conde Duque. Tina (Maura) gets hosed down on this street in a memorable scene from La ley del deseo (Law of Desire). 
7. Cementario de la Almudena. Liberto (Victor Plaza) visits this cemetery in Carne trémula (Live Flesh). Of course the more iconic resting place shot by Almodóvar would be the Cementario Montjuic that appears in Todo sobre mi madre  (All About My Mother), but that's in Barcelona and, naturally, I didn't think of it while I was there. Oops! 

As big a fan as I am, I'd be lying if I said I discovered and recognized these all on my own. So, credit goes to: Trip+,  I Need Spain, and Todo Almodóvar.

And in case you have thus far been deprived of his excellent films, I would recommend starting with Todo sobre mi madre, Volver, Hable con ella, Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios, and Abrazos rotos.  

On Post-Racial Cinema

“Chinese, Japanese, Chinese, Japanese,” they said in a singsong voice, index fingers stretching the corners of their eyes back in an upward, then downward motion to accentuate each word. Or was it downward, then upward? The specifics of these playground encounters elude me now, but years later I still remember how indignant and self-conscious it made me feel.

As it happens, I’m half Chinese and half Japanese, so perhaps the opposing gravitational pulls cancel each other out and that’s why my eyes look normal, albeit slightly asymmetrical. (But, hey, who’s perfect anyways?)

It’s a memory that I try not to rehash too often because it upsets me, but it’s resurfaced many times ever since I saw Cloud Atlas - Tom Tykwer, Lana and Andy Wachowski’s epic, mind-bending adaptation of the David Mitchell novel that comprises six tenuously linked stories that range from a mid-nineteenth century voyage across the Pacific Ocean to 1970s San Francisco; a dystopian Seoul in the near future, and an even grimmer, post-apocalyptic society centuries later. It was a beast of a project to take on, not only in practical terms (no studio would back it), but also in the creative sense (how to fully tell six different narratives yet in a short enough timeframe that audiences will be willing to sit through it). What holds the film together is the sprawling ensemble cast that sees actors taking on roles in anywhere from three to all six of the stories. And because they are so diverse in scope and setting, this means that in many instances these actors are playing against race.

​Courtesy of MGM

In sixth grade my mother was dismayed when I brought home my copy of the latest reading assignment: The Good Earth by Pearl S. Buck. I think part of her issue was that it was a white author taking on a specific ethnic and cultural setting that was not her own (although Buck actually grew up in China so I guess that gives her some cred), but the bigger problem lay in the 1937 Academy Award-winning film adaptation. The particular edition that I owned had an insert with film stills featuring actors Paul Muni and Luise Rainer with horrendously exaggerated “slanty” eyes, which my mom claimed were achieved by using tape. By that age I was well aware of racial stereotypes, but it shocked me to see them so institutionalized, accepted and even, in Rainer’s case, celebrated.

​Courtesy of Paramount Pictures

For a long time in the entertainment industry, all it took to be Asian were small, squinty eyes, black hair, and maybe a ridiculous accent for good measure. (Case in point: Mickey Rooney in Breakfast at Tiffany’s). But before yellowface there was blackface, which even predates cinema thanks to cringe-worthy minstrel shows that white audiences somehow found entertaining. So yeah, I suppose I had every right to go into Cloud Atlas ready to be outraged, and yet…it worked. And what’s more: I liked it.

Of course the route that the directors chose to go in was not everyone’s cup of tea; I have a cousin who refuses to see the film, for instance, and the internet at large came down particularly hard on English actor Jim Sturgess. The combination of him having previously starred in the film ­21 (the based-on-a-true-story of a group of Asian MIT students who made a fortune by counting cards in Vegas) and being in yellowface for a portion of Cloud Atlas had many erroneously claiming that he hates Asians.

Let us not forget, however, that also in Cloud Atlas we see Korean actress Doona Bae* in whiteface, as well as briefly play a hysterical Hispanic woman. Halle Berry goes Jewish, Indian and Korean too. And meanwhile Tom Hanks is everywhere under almost every conceivable guise.

​Courtesy of DreamWorks Pictures

Despite its discriminatory origins, playing against race can be used to wildly different effects – caricature, as in the aforementioned Rooney, satire, like RDJ in Tropic Thunder, and comedy, e.g. White Chicks. What was pleasantly surprising about Cloud Atlas was that, unlike these previous examples, it didn’t call attention to the fact that – hey – these actors aren’t at all what they’re playing. I mean, sure, it wasn’t perfectly seamless because even with all the prosthetics and makeup each actor has his own irrevocable characteristics, but it wasn’t playing against type for the mere novelty of playing against type. Instead the emphasis was on the richness of the characters.

There’s a lot to parse out of a film this complex, but an overarching theme is the interconnectedness of humanity across time and space to the point of teasing at reincarnation. At the risk of sounding too spiritual, it’s as though each actor embodies a distinct soul that manifests in diverse yet similar ways in each story. Hugh Grant, for example, is a consistent villainous presence. Sturgess emerges as a heroic figure in two segments, and each time his character’s fate is linked with that of Bae’s character. So, simply put, none of this could have been accomplished if there had been a different cast for each segment.

But what is race, anyways? Scientists continue to search for concrete genetic and biological markers but thus far have turned up little evidence. In many ways race is illusory – defined by ourselves as part of our identity, but also projected onto us by others. People who are of mixed heritage would know this best, since there is so very often a vast discrepancy between how they think of themselves and how they are perceived to the outside world.

​Courtesy of Warner Bros

I understand why people were sensitive about the creative decisions that went into Cloud Atlas given historical precedent, but I think what they did was actually a good thing. Now, I have to fess up that I’ve gone and used a word that I don’t fully understand. What do we mean by “post-race”? To me it means transcending the point where we categorize others based on what is mostly just a load of bullshit superficial qualities anyways, and start acting based on the notion that we are all relatively homogeneous; that we are all just people who share a lot of the same values.

So, could actual Asian actors have been used and then played against race in the other stories? Certainly. But I’m guessing why that didn’t happen was a matter of financing. In this economic climate studios and production companies prefer to back projects that are deemed to have high box office value internationally. Consider who is in the cast already. Tom Hanks. Halle Berry. Hugh Grant. Susan Sarandon. Name one Asian actor who could feasibly draw in audiences at that scale. I can’t. And that’s another industry problem I would love to see ameliorated someday.

*Doona Bae’s parts were originally earmarked for Natalie Portman before the latter got pregnant. Would she have taken the same heat as Sturgess for being in yellowface? The world will never know…