Film review: Bẫy Rồng (Clash), directed by Le Thanh Son” By Lee Ngo

Remember the first time you saw Ong Bak: Thai Warrior, a balls-to-the-wall Thai action flick featuring international superstar Tony Jaa’s incredible muay thai skills and “I kick death in the face” stunt choreography? Clash, directed by USC graduate Le Thanh Son and starring Vietnam’s equivalent to Brangelina, Johnny Tri Nguyen and Veronica Ngo Thanh Van, is guaranteed to make you feel the same way about Vietnamese film. I’ve been following the evolution of this film since the summer of 2009, and right when the first trailer came out, I nearly fainted.

You may now exhale. Four months after its widely successful release in Vietnam, the film has been screened outside of the country on a handful of occasions, most recently at an event at the UCLA Film School titled “New Voices from Vietnam.” I finally had my chance to see it at the Los Angeles Asian Pacific Film Festival in May of 2010, joining a packed and diverse house of patrons. After some introductory remarks by Ysa Le, Executive Director of the Vietnamese American Arts and Letters Association (VAALA) (whom I personally refer to the “Queen of Art and Aesthetics in Little Saigon”), two members of the film’s crew remarked about the film’s wild production process. According to Ham Tran, the film was shot in an frantic thirty days and edited, inconceivably, in another thirty (ask anyone who works in film and they’ll tell you it can’t be done). “This is Vietnam,” Ham said with a smile, describing the production climate in Vietnam as a maelstrom of excitement and chaos.

Vietnamese people don’t look at explosions.

Finally, the curtains parted, and the film began. I went to the screening expecting precision-choreographed violence and unnecessary but gratifying explosions; in other words, straightforward visceral entertainment. In that respect, the film delivered, especially during the first half. The film also incorporates another untapped dimension to the martial-arts flick - wrestling and grappling - which should please mixed martial arts enthusiasts. Shot on the RED (a digital camera that produces film-quality images and is quickly becoming a standard instrument in film making worldwide), the film looks spectacular yet appropriate for the gritty subject matter. Johnny and Veronica look terrific (my fiancée, sitting next to me, whispered “He’s cute…” every time Johnny’s smoldering physique came into shot). My favorite character of the film was the vertically-challenged gangster (I forget his name and the actor that played him), who provided some delightful comic relief.

Why were there so many six-shooter revolvers in this film?

However, at a very specific point in the film (!), the joyride of Clash ends, and the film takes itself way too seriously, exploring the dark subplots of the main characters. The effort on the whole sucks out all of the momentum of the film, and I could tell that audiences were getting restless towards this heavy-handed storytelling. At no point during the first half of the film are the main characters of Quan (Johnny) and Trinh (Veronica) developed in any way that draws the audience in to root for them. Part of this could be attributed to the underdeveloped acting, writing, or directing (thirty days is not enough time to do a lot of re-shoots), but I believe that if one particular moment in the film didn’t happen (!), the rest of the film could have been saved.

Johnny Tri Nguyen does this in his sleep.

Nonetheless, I was told by a little bird that Clash will be released nationwide very soon. Despite its flaws, the film does entertain on the level you expect it to, and especially if you’re Vietnamese or some other denomination of Asian-American, supporting this film will further the overall project of creating a viable entertainment industry for a minority group that is constantly yearning for increased representation in the media. For those two reasons, I highly recommend you to go see this film upon its release.

‘Hanoi Eclipse: The Music of Dai Lam Linh’ —a documentary by Barley Norton

By Nora Taylor
(Courtesy www.DiaCRITICS.org)

In Barley Norton’s documentary film Hanoi Eclipse: The Music of Dai Lam Linh, produced earlier this year, the composer Ngoc Dai uses foul language, eats dog meat and has a reputation for being a “madman”, but he is mostly passionately in love with music. “Dai is one of God’s special creations,” adds Thanh Lam, the Lam of the musical triad Dai Lam Linh, but “Dai is very talented, his music is very human … that’s what makes me want to work with him, even when he’s unbearable.”

Funded by a grant from the Getty Foundation, Norton, an ethnomusicologist who teaches at Goldmiths College in London, spent four months filming and interviewing the band leading up to the recording of the group’s first CD and culminating in their concert at the Nha Hat Lon or Opera House in Hanoi in April 2009. The film is a stunning portrait, not just of Dai and the singers Linh Dung and Thanh Lam, but of artists who try to defy convention and push the limits of aesthetic sensibilities in an atmosphere of censorship and conformity. The film is a gem and contains many memorable moments including candid shots of the censorship board’s review of the band’s material after sitting in on a rehearsal. “In the performance there are some very developed sections when the singers are very expressive. I think you should correct those sections so there is less noise and screaming” said one member. Another added: “We think it would be better if you took your music to Europe.” Other scenes include Dai’s visit to his parents’ home in the countryside. His father plays the monochord for his son, who promptly corrects his style.

Norton is a sensitive and sensible interviewer. He managed to blend into the scenery and make himself invisible. He coaxes Dai into recollecting his musical training and his service during the war. Dai is happy to retell his war stories over dinner with his band mates but he is not overly smug nor does he gloat in the attention that Norton’s camera shines on him. It really is as if the camera is not there and Dai can just speak his mind. Dai is not the only “star” of the film. His singers, Lam and Linh share the credit magnificently. Their voices are sublime and otherworldly. Throughout the film, their talent is clear. And a fabulous match for Dai’s music. Dai recognized this when he first met them and heard their interpretation of his songs. And Dai’s music is a match for their voices. No other composer working in Vietnam today could supply the women with material that is as edgy and innovative as Dai’s. They would never have settled for anything else. In one scene, Thanh Lam explains the lyrics of the song “Dream.” “It is about the craving of a woman, about her burning desire.” She adds that Dai isn’t “shy about revealing emotions,” as Linh Dung’s voice appears singing “I’m thirsty for you to hold my breasts … my darling, I long for you. Come to me, let’s burn a curtain of fire around us.”

Thanh Lam and Linh Dung are not just spectacular singers, they are performers. At one point, Linh describes how her soul detached itself from her body as she was singing, as if in a trance. On stage, they sit, they hop, they sway, they writhe, they lie down. Their voices range from high to deep, fast and slow, at times sounding like rapid speaking and screaming. Imagine Björk and PJ Harvey mixed with ca tru.

The film is one of the best documentaries I have seen on contemporary Vietnam in a long time. It says so much about the challenges of making art in Vietnam today but it also honestly captures the resilience of the Doi Moi generation who fought the war and knows how to survive, indeed to live. Artists like Dai are not afraid to take risks. Not motivated by money, only by the love of music, Dai Lam Linh is the sign that original Vietnamese culture can thrive against the odds, against the predictions of global infusion.

Hanoi Eclipse is available from Documentary Educational Resources, with a preview in the short clip posted above.

– Nora Taylor

Reposted with permission from www.diaCRITICS.org

Empowerment or Exploitation? Sexuality in ‘Để Mai Tính/Fool For Love’

By Lee Ngo
(Courtesy www.DiaCRITICS.org)

diaCRITICS will periodically have guest blogs. Here’s one about the sexual politics of Để Mai Tính/Fool for Love from Lee Ngo, a third-year Ph.D. student in sociocultural anthropology at the University of California, Irvine.

When I first heard that Fool For Love, a romantic comedy directed by Charlie Nguyen (The Rebel) and starring Kathy Uyen (Spirits, Passport to Love) and co-writer Dustin Nguyen (21 Jumpstreet, The Rebel, The Legend is Alive), is premiering in my hometown of Portland this month, I felt a mix of excitement and apprehension. I’ve seen the film three times (twice in the US and once in Vietnam), and immediately I knew its crowd-pleasing story and tongue-in-cheek humor would be a hit with a Vietnamese-speaking audience. The films stands as the biggest box office grossing film ever produced officially in Vietnam, and its run in the US has pulled in a respectable gross so far compared to other films produced by and for ethnic Vietnamese.

With an approximate population of 15,000 Vietnamese in Portland (12,000 as of 2005, 10,000 in 2000), however, I don’t think it will make a big impression on a visible but demographically small community. I’m much more concerned with reactions from the LGBTQA community in Portland. Much of the interest in this film from Vietnamese and American audience focuses on Hoi, the main supporting character of Fool For Love. Hoi, an out-and-proud cosmetics entrepreneur played by Vietnamese actor Thai Hoa (who is straight), is a perpetual scene-stealer and unsung hero of the film. Many media sources in Vietnam regard Hoi as the film’s true star, and they widely expected that Hoa will win his second Golden Kite (the Vietnamese equivalent to the Academy Awards) for his performance. If you asked me last week, I would have agreed with this sentiment. Now I’m not so sure.

We all know that for years non-heterosexuals get caricatured heavily in film and television. Putting over-the-top gay characters into a project, whether the story demands it or not, is an easy device to draw cheap laughs, especially from a pretty conservative community such as the good majority of Vietnamese in the world. Even though I am a hyper-sensitive heterosexual ally leftist who champions civil rights and equitable representation for everyone, I couldn’t help but laugh when Hoi burst into the screen for the first time. Or the second time. Or even the third time. I just got caught up like everyone else with Hoi’s unyielding, energetic conviction from start to finish. The film also digs very deep into Hoi’s background, and by the end of the film I sincerely cared for his character’s well-being. When I saw Fool for Love the third time with packed crowd of mostly ethnic Vietnamese in San Diego, however, I began to question my original perspective.

As Hoi made his grand entrance once again, I could hear the crowd murmuring, mostly in Vietnamese: “Pê-đê… pê-đê…” This word has many meanings, most of them pejorative. In Vietnam, my relatives told me it’s used specifically to describe ladyboys in Vietnam, i.e. people who are born men but live their lives as women (other Southeast Asian approximates include the Indonesian waria, the Thai kathoey, or the Filipino bakla). I grew up in the United States thinking that this was the term to refer to homosexuals, but a graduate student colleague and friend of mine who studies lesbian subjectivity and activism in Vietnam told me that the term is extremely offensive, drawing its etymology from the word pederasty (a man who loves pre-pubescent boys). I started to wonder if my queer friends in Vietnam saw Hoi the same way I saw Mickey Rooney’s Mr. Yunioshi in Breakfast at Tiffany’sor Gedde Watanabe’s Long Duck Dong in Sixteen Candles. These films exploited Asian identity in order to entertain a broader audience of non-Asians, and now they’re heralded as American classics. Is queer identity exploited in the same way in Fool For Love, except this time the film’s excuse is to entertain a broader audience of Vietnamese-speakers instead? Is sexuality getting sacrificed in the name of nationalistic interests? Is Thai Hoa’s Hoi an offensive caricature of subjectivity, or is he simply a character who should be lauded for his courageous self-expression?

As a heterosexual man, I don’t feel that I am fully capable of answering these questions. As a “Vietnamese” man (I get more ethnically confused by the day) I’m even more conflicted, because I want to see every film made by and for a Vietnamese-speaking audience do as well as possible. A few of my queer friends saw the film and said that Thai Hoa’s performance didn’t bother them at all – if anything, it held their attention throughout. Portland, however, is a very gay-friendly city. Its mayor, Sam Adams, is the first openly gay major of a Top 30 city in the United States. Many of my queer friends in Califoria speak of Portland like it’s Shangri-La, and all of my queer friends in Portland agree with my California friends. In a sentence, Portlanders don’t take too kindly to any threats to their collective hyper-progressive attitude, however well-meaning they may seem. I worry that Fool For Love might have that kind of effect in my hometown, even though it’s really just wants to be an innocuous romantic comedy that aims to show Vietnam in a positive light.

My favorite Portland mantra pretty much says it all: “Keep Portland Weird.” Portlanders pride themselves on their alternative perspective, and even though the city has attracted a grossly disproportionate number of hipsters in recent years, it’s still the best place in the world to me. I invite all of my Portland friends – queer, non-queer, Vietnamese, non-Vietnamese, cinephilic and even cinephobic – to check out Fool for Love when it drops and tell me what they think. Responsible, ethical representation of all people remains one of my top priorities in life, and I hope through an engaged, constructive discourse we can all work towards that goal together.

- post by Lee Ngo, third-year Ph.D. student in sociocultural anthropology at the University of California, Irvine

Reposted with permission from www.diaCRITICS.org