The story takes place in Taiwan during the late 1980s. That’s a time of great change for the tiny Asian nation, after the People’s Republic of China committed to non-interventionism, and an economic boom began to take place.
Not everyone could harvest the fruits of socio-economic development straight away. Hsiao-lee (Bai Xiao-Ying) is a quiet and withdrawn adolescent. She lives in a loveless home environment. Her father Chiang (Roy Chiu) is a hardcore alcoholic and wife-beater, and her mother Chian (played by local popstar 9m88) is incapable of giving her child any affection. In fact, the treatment that she bestows upon her daughter isn’t too different from the treatment that she receives from her spouse. She abuses her verbally and psychologically, to the point of attending her class and humiliating the hapless teen in front of her perplexed colleagues and teacher. Hsaio-lee’s younger sister (Lai Yu-Fei) is impotent in the face of of such complex family issues. Hsiao-lee asks that her mother divorces her father, but her plea falls into deaf ears.
One day, Hsiao-lee meets happy-go-lucky and free-spirited Li-li (Audrey Lin), of about the same age. She likes being called “Le-LEE” (with a long vowel in the end), so that it sounds like the English name “Lily”. Li-li used to live in the United States, and speaks the language of Shakespeare fluently. The character is a proxy for American influence on the Asian country. Lil-li is extremely streetwise, mostly immune to bullying and insults. Hsiao-lee finds her new acquaintance inspiring and liberating. Together, they share intimate girly moments inside the toilet cubicle, confront the school, meet boys and travel together on their scooter. But Hsiao-lee’s parents aren’t too impressed with their daughter’s newfound friendship and sense of freedom. Something tragic is bound to happen.
Most of the characters are painfully unidimensional. This is particularly true in the case of the father, to the point of didacticism: “I’m the head of the house”, and “you do as I say” are amongst the few lines that he utters. The mother too is mostly eveil, even if she occasionally attempts a timid gesture of redemption. Some of the acting is stiff and unnatural. Plus, some of the scenes are very poorly staged, notably a rape and a motorcycle accident. On the other hand, the dreams sequences are effective and of good taste (with a bedsheet nearly crushing Hsiao-Lee’s face).
This is a coming-of-age story you’ve seen many times. It lacks originality, vim and vigour. And it has nothing new to say about dysfunctional families and female oppression. At least the final scene sheds some new light on the proceedings, as well some ambiguity, and the possibility of reconciliation. But that’s too little and too late.
Yu Jing-pin’s cinematography is Girl‘s most convincing element, and also its biggest saving grace. Dark, cold and washed-out colours, combined with a soft focus, provide the story with a sense of inescapable gloom, which is entirely suitable for Hsiao-lee’s upbringing. One scene from the top of the tree is both deeply symbolic and exuberant. Abundant rain is elegantly captured. The constant precipitation does not wash Hsiao-lee’s pain away, but instead imprisons our character. Can you broken youth become an emotionally balanced adult?
Girl premiered in the Official Competition of the 82nd Venice International Film Festival, where this piece was originally written. Also showing at the 5th Red Sea International Film Festival. This is the debut feature of actress-turned-director Shu Qi.
here this piece was originally written. Also showing at the 5th Red Sea International Film Festival. This is the debut feature of actress-turned-director Shu Qi.
