A BRIGHTER SUMMER DAY (Gu ling jie shao nian sha ren shi
jian) A+
aka: An Incident on
Guling Street
Taiwan (240 mi)
1991 d: Edward Yang
Edward Yang, along with Hou Hsiao-hsien and Tsai Ming-liang,
ushered in a new era of Taiwanese cinema.
When a retrospective of his work premiered in Chicago in 1997, Yang was
present for some of the screenings, acknowledging he lived on the West Coast
and was friends and working associates with the Microsoft crowd, receiving a
degree in electrical engineering. But a
single event changed his life, watching Werner Herzog’s AGUIRRE, THE WRATH OF
GOD (1972), which emboldened him to return to Taiwan and become a
filmmaker. While his friends all became
instant millionaires, Yang made films few ever saw during his lifetime, but
they left a lasting legacy. Born in
Shanghai but growing up in Taiwan, his background is similar to many others of
his generation, like Hou Hsiao-hsien, who was born in the same year. A great admirer of Antonioni, Yang became
associated with cinema of observance, mostly using medium to long shots,
keeping the viewer at a distance from the characters, revealing as much of the
surrounding vicinity as possible, allowing them to be judged evenhandedly. While he became recognized for his portrayals
of contemporary urban life in Taiwan, tracing the lives of young, middle class
workers who become devoured by their rapidly changing environment, often losing
their place in life, eradicated by the enormous power of modern day capitalism
to simply steamroll over worker’s inability to keep up with the rapidly
changing cultural dimensions, leaving many devastated in the wake. Strangely, this film is the only one of
Yang’s films to be set in the past, where the intricate layers and novelesque
scope is what stands out, ultimately making this head and shoulders above
everything else he ever created.
In the late 1980’s, the Taiwan film industry run by the
Nationalist Government-owned Central Motion Picture Corporation almost ceased
to exist, scaling back their activities, leaving a void for new young directors
to fill. Yang’s initial efforts, That
Day, On the Beach (Hai tan de yi tian) (1982), Taipei
Story (Qing mei zhu ma) (1985), starring Hou Hsiao-hsien as an actor, and The
Terrorizers (Kong bu fen zi) (1986) comprise an urban film trilogy, examining the
tensions and contradictions of urban life in Taipei, each one revealing less
narrative detail, becoming more increasingly experimental in form. Interestingly, one of Yang’s techniques
deliberately leaves out key plot details, intentionally hiding pieces of the
puzzle, which forces the audience to involve themselves in the unraveling
narrative. Viewed as appetizers for the
main course, this film astonishingly took 5 years in preparation, and although
completed in 1991, never found a distributor, initially languishing on the
shelves unseen, involving a cast of over 100 speaking parts, largely
non-professional teen-age actors, where Yang used his position as a drama
teacher at the National Institute of the Arts to train most of the cast and
crew himself, using 92 different sets, taking place in the poorer Taipei
district in 1961, using the filmmaker’s own memories of his adolescence, shot
at his high school, inspired by a true incident of a 14 year old boy murdering
a 13 year old girl, the first juvenile murder case in Taiwan’s history, the
film opens and closes with an old, broken down radio broadcasting the lists of
graduating students. In this context of
a repressive, militaristic government, the resulting family chaos, the constant
threat of gang fights, the need for a good education, and the idea that hard
work can bring success, is seen as paramount.
In a film that bears some autobiographic similarity to Hou
Hsiao-hsien’s A
Time to Live and a Time to Die (Tong nien wang shi) (1985), this film is
prefaced in a historical context, with the understanding that Chinese Taiwan
was formed in 1949 with several million Chinese being militarily forced by the
Communist army to cross over into Taiwan from mainland China, into a world they
knew nothing about, so they were required to build their new lives with great
insecurity about the future, and this film is about their first generation of
offspring. The anxieties of the parents
created a world of anxieties for their children, who search for their own
greater security and their own self-identity through the formation of street
gangs, whose inner turmoil is largely a reflection of the world around them. The Taiwanese identity is revealed to be a
sense of perpetual exile.
Edward Yang’s own father fled from Shanghai. Artifacts from other countries have great
impact in this film, the use of Japanese samurai swords which are ultimately
used as murder weapons, Russian novels are read by teenagers and understood as
“swordsmen” novels, a family’s observation that the Chinese fought the Japanese
for 20 years only to then live in Japanese houses, listening to Japanese music,
an old tape recorder that has been left behind by the WWII American forces is
used to adapt American lyrics and American rock ‘n’ roll music for the Chinese,
the film features American doo-wop music, first love, cigarettes, gang
violence, rebellious behavior, casual dress, the influence of Hollywood motion
picture magazines and movies, the voice of John Wayne from Rio Bravo
(1959) can be heard in one of the movie theaters, while the title of the film
(ironically mistakenly translated) comes from the Elvis Presley song, “Are You
Lonesome Tonight,” Elvis
Presley- Are You Lonesome Tonight. - YouTube (3:19), a comment on the dark
cloud hanging over everyone’s heads, hardly a brighter, summer day.
The film features Xiao S’ir (Chang Chen in his film debut),
a fourteen-year old protagonist, the fourth of five children, continually
switching back and forth between the two worlds he inhabits, at home with his
family or in school, hanging out with various friends, where his best friend
seems to be Cat (Wang Chi-tsan), a diminutive kid with plenty of swagger and
braggadocio, whose favorite past time is having Xiao Sir’s sister translate
Elvis Presley lyrics, where he learns to sing them in the original English
language. All wearing identical school
uniforms, where each has an identifiable number inscribed, their individuality
is expressed in the variety of nicknames, like Threads, Sly, Airplane, Bomber,
Tiger, Sex Bomb, Deuce, and even Underpants.
S’ir’s father (Chang Kuo-Chu) is seen having to plead with a rigid
school administrator, angered after his son is sternly issued a demerit,
actually losing his temper, seen afterwards, each walking their own bikes,
having a heart-to-heart chat about the implications of their actions, each
owning up to their own personal failures while promising to do better, Brighter Summer Day (First
Road Conversation) YouTube (1:50).
In an amusing scene, probably as a way to get out of school,
both S’ir and Cat are seen high up in the rafters at a movie studio that
happens to be right next to the school, as they watch a scene being filmed. While it grows more absurd, with the lead
actress arguing about the color of her costume, the director then rightly
complains that the film is shot in black and white, so who will notice? Nonetheless the actress insists, stepping
behind a dressing screen to change costumes, where both boys get a look from
their vantage point, but clumsily reveal themselves. As they are being chased by a security guard,
S’ir grabs a large flashlight on his way out, which is used to great effect by
the director, reappearing throughout the story, often with ominous
implications. The length of the film
allows viewers to become easily familiar with navigating the surrounding
neighborhood, including the school, shown prominently both during the day and
night, the club house run by the Little Park gang, the food stands and
bookstores of Guling Street, the pool room and garage used by the 217 gang, and
the homes of S’ir and his friends.
For the most part, S’ir is a quiet and studious young boy
who happens to develop a crush on Ming (Lisa Yang), the girlfriend of Honey
(Lin Hung-Ming), the leader of the Little Park Boys gang, but Honey has been in
hiding after killing the leader of the 217 gang. When Honey returns, he befriends S’ir and tells
him he spent his time reading “swordsmen” novels, citing War and Peace as his
favorite, claiming: “When you look into
the past, it looks like the gangs of today.”
Honey is a cross between a young Brando and Fassbinder’s Querelle
dressed in his sailor’s suit, where he seems to be in a completely different
space and time, accentuated by his arrival to a school dance where the kids are
standing at attention for the playing of the national anthem, yet he is
oblivious to this conformity.
Nonetheless we get a chance to hear the irrepressible Cat sing in
falsetto, seen standing on a box to reach the microphone, Angel
Baby YouTube (1:42). While walking
to discuss a peace treaty with Shandong (Alex Yang), the new leader of the 217
gang, Honey is pushed in front of a car, but as he is shoved, the film
immediately cuts back to the school auditorium where a Taiwanese band is
performing “Don’t Be Cruel” Elvis Presley don't be cruel
- YouTube (2:11) to the absolute delight of the screaming kids, probably
the happiest moment in their lives.
But this murder leads to acts of revenge, perhaps the most
artfully presented sequence of events in the film, the massacre in the night
that takes place during a typhoon of rain during one of the many Taipei
blackouts that occur periodically throughout this film, as well as another Yang
film, TAPEI STORY (1985). Filmed almost
entirely in utter blackness, with barely a sliver of light, boys are
slaughtering other boys with samurai swords to the heightened sounds of yelling
and screaming, yet little can actually be seen, one indistinguishable from
another, as instead people are heard attacking, while others are falling,
crying, and then silence. S’ir shines
his stolen flashlight into the silent darkness, the beam of light leading him
past bloodied, dead bodies to Shandong, who is lying on the floor covered in
blood, moaning and gurgling with a meat cleaver in his hand. In this scarcest of light, the blades of
S’ir’s knife and Shandong’s meet as the only light surrounded by total
blackness, until Shandong is left to die.
S’ir turns and walks away without a word, led by his beam of light which
is all that can be seen until he leaves the room and all light disappears.
In the middle of the night, S’ir’s father is arrested by the
secret police for unnamed charges, demanding a full confession on all persons
he’s ever encountered since he arrived in Taiwan, including compatriots he knew
on the mainland, with suspicions of lingering communist influence, initially
allowing him cigarettes where he is alone with his thoughts in an empty room
with beams of light streaming in, but then the cigarettes are taken away, the
rules are enforced, and the punishment begins.
Some are forced to sit on large blocks of ice, where they can be heard
moaning, however as the father is a musician, his interrogation features an
organ player in the corner singing a song in a boy’s voice that turns into that
of a woman’s, soaring into the clouds, a surreal dream of salvation, perhaps,
but Edward Yang mentioned there really are people who work with the
interrogators as musical inspiration for full confessions. The father works feverishly all night on his
confession until he is interrupted in the morning by the sound of someone
entering the room, he waves him away claiming he is almost finished and he
needs just a little more time, but the voice sternly tells him he can go,
hurry, and get out. The camera pans
around the room to an open door, which reveals, at long last, life outside,
trees, gardens, and flowers. But S’ir’s
father is humiliated by this experience, so eloquently expressed as he sits
alone slumped over a noodle counter after the interrogation, having spoken to
no one, where his wife (Elaine Jin) stops on the street and just stares at him,
her eyes in disbelief that this once proud man is her husband, so utterly
powerless and alone, looking so much like a stranger, but this incident will
forever change their relationship.
S’ir promises to be Ming’s protector forever, and makes his
declaration to the sound of a high school band playing an off-key militaristic
march. Later, in another extraordinary
scene, S’ir questions why Ming can’t just ignore the bad things that happen,
this while a procession of tanks drives by, leaving them in a cloud of dust, an
ominous reference to the repressive, militaristic government that simply cannot
be ignored, A
Brighter Summer Day / Gu ling jie shao nian sha ren shi jian (1991) Трейлър
YouTube (1:27). Just as S’ir is kicked
out of school for accumulating behavior demerits, forcing him to attend the
less prestigious night school, his father loses his government job, and with it
all sense of family security, both coming under rigid, unbending rules of
repressive authority. Each time S’ir has
gotten into trouble at school, his father has come to defend him, but this
time, when he can find no words to stop the patronizing insults of the
education moralizers, S’ir grabs a baseball bat and smashes a light bulb
hanging overhead, again he is engulfed in a moral darkness. When he and his father walk home with their
bikes afterwards, in a quiet, still moment of shared vulnerability, his father,
a shell of his former self, actually blames himself for his son’s troubles.
The anguish, at this point, is only beginning to mount. While viewers are never privy to the business
dealings of S’ir’s parents, which are discussed offscreen and intentionally
left ambiguous, nonetheless we have some idea of some shady dealings going on,
which precipitates an argument between S’ir’s mother and father in their bed,
where she suggests he should cut off relations with an old personal friend,
that the friend’s name was mentioned during the interrogation, at which point
he screams at her that this friend actually helped the family move from the
mainland to Taiwan, that women have no idea about the business of men, that
loyalty to friends is a duty which must be maintained, a discussion which
deteriorates into tears with each realizing now they have no one but each
other. Equally haunting is another scene
where the father explodes in the middle of the night over some fictitious home
intruder, an alarming realization that he is losing all sense of himself. Later, the father loses all control when he
brutally beats his eldest son in the mistaken belief he has stolen his mother’s
watch, while S’ir sits silently in the dark outside the house with the full
knowledge that it is his own theft, not his brothers, that is prompting a
beating that his brother is taking on his behalf, which causes his religious,
younger sister to remind him that he’s “out of touch with his inner calm” and
urges him to accept the salvation of Christ, who absorbed the punishment for
the sins of mankind.
S’ir has been studying on his own in an attempt to gain
re-admittance to Day School, an unlikely prospect at this point, but
achievable, when S’ir hears from others that Ming has had various affairs,
including one now with Ma (Tan Chih-Kan), one of S’ir’s best friends, whose
advice to S’ir has always been that getting into trouble or losing friendship
over a girl is dumb, but S’ir flies into a jealous rage and threatens Ma to
keep his hands off Ming, and waits on the street for him after school with a
knife, only to encounter Ming instead who again lectures him on his selfish
behavior, that he only pays attention to others because he wants others to pay
attention to him, which sends S’ir into a blind rage and he stabs her several
times right out in the open, in front of hundreds of passerbys who barely take
notice. S’ir’s family reacts hysterically
to the news of his arrest and is in utter disbelief. There is a beautiful, brief scene where the
younger, religious sister is singing in the church choir, but she can’t sing,
as tears are streaming down her face.
Cat visits the prison where S’ir is incarcerated and attempts to share
his joy in successfully contacting Elvis Presley in America, pleading with the
guards to give him a tape of the music he sent, pleas that fall on deaf ears,
as instead they throw it away, evidence of the missed communication that runs
throughout the film. In the end, while
the family appears to be cleaning and hanging their laundry out to dry, the
radio announces the names of the those students accepted into the Day School,
including Xiao Sir’s name, which simply freezes his mother in her tracks,
paralyzed at the thought of all that has been lost, as the names continue over
the end credits.
For all those Yi
Yi: A One and a Two... (2000) fans who don’t understand the complexity of
this film, let’s just remind you of the title, “A Brighter Summer Day,” as this
is a film for which those words have no meaning, and unlike YI YI, which had the charming optimism of
Yang-Yang, an as yet undeveloped child who has a future, YI YI is much more a
“perfect” film, everything is neatly examined and explained, where there’s a
perfect symmetry, as on whole it’s balanced and feels like a complete
experience, but A BRIGHTER SUMMER DAY offers no such peace of mind, as it’s a
raw emotional roller coaster where the last hour or so is filled with such
complete anguish and despair, nearly all the family members have their singular
moments where they are the focus of an unending torment of pain, where the
understated personal horrors can leave one breathless. Most of the world’s viewing audience have
been spared this kind of personal degradation, and therefore have no personal
reference points to connect with such despair, but Yang, to his credit, spares
no one. The film’s greatness lies in its complete lack of artifice, its
meticulously chosen shot and music selection, brilliant imagery mixed with an
equally brilliant narrative, a devastating portrait of children on the
precipice of darkness, one of the more complex human examinations of the after-effects
of a subjugated nation, which is still, at heart, a police state, yet there is
a breaking out from the bonds of repression by rebellious teenage kids who have
affectations of violence and above all a love of Elvis, freedom, and rock ‘n’
roll.