Mortal Storms: Edward Yang's "That Day On the Beach"

Even though director Edward Yang already had one short film under his belt (a portion of the omnibus "In Our Time" in 1983), nothing would quite compare to the ambition and brilliance of his debut feature length film "That Day, On the Beach" one year later. Sprawling and intimately epic, "That Day, On the Beach" has quickly become my very favorite Yang film... and considering his brief but magnificent output, that's saying alot.

With a running time of two hours and 45 minutes, "That Day, On the Beach" takes its time in telling a story in flashback (and even flashback within the flashback) of the reunion between old friends JiaLi (Syvlia Chang) and Qin Qin (Terry Hu). Qin is a successful pianist in town for a show when she decides to reach out to her old friend. In casual conversation, JiaLi tells of her struggle after the two friends parted after high school and her subsequent relationship with Daiwei (David Mao) and their turbulent affairs together. To complicate matters, Qin Qin was once in love with JiaLi's brother, and this is the reason she initially wanted to reunite with her. Still, "That Day, On the Beach" is Sylvia Chang's story, seamlessly shifting from past to present as she tells her story to her old friend, including the strange disappearance of her husband and the tender bonds between the family she once left behind.

Perhaps seeing Yang's debut film last gives me a more deliberate appreciation of his total work. Yang is no stranger to epic family dramas ("Yi Yi" and "A Brighter Summer Day" among them), and with "That Day, On the Beach"), the characteristics that define so much of his later work are on prominent display. Characters, who have a small part in the beginning of the story, return later to define and emphasize a fragile moment that felt minimal earlier in the film. Like the boy gangs that run rampant in "A Brighter Summer Day", Yang's marginal characters can, at any moment, rise up and become the focus. I suppose I should learn that the term "marginal" has no value in Yang's worldview. Also, the beauty of "That Day, On the Beach" is the way Yang shifts our perception and feelings. In one early scene, JiaLi escapes her imposed arranged marriage.... her image seen cat walking outside the window of her parent's home in a driving rainstorm. Years later, when her mother comes to visit her and the two are engaged in a quiet conversation, Yang takes us back to that scene, this time shown through the mother's eyes and her small, reassuring gasp as she sees her daughter escaping into the night... and then back to the present conversation where her mother smiles slightly, approvingly. And I can't imagine a more loving, creatively omniscient image in any Yang film than Christopher Doyle's camera panning down to capture the furtive embracing of hands between newlywed husband and wife Dai wei and JiaLi. Though life (and happiness) doesn't always work out, "That Day, On the Beach" is mostly about survival. And although the film focuses on Syvlia Chang, both her role and that of Qin Qin reveal Yang's attraction to strong, mindful female characters, another trait that would mark so many of Yang's other passionate works. Nothing short of a masterpiece, "That Day, On the Beach" cements Edward Yang's position as one of the most influential directors of the last 30 years. Now if only ALL his films were readily available for mass consumerism.

Love Will Tear Us Apart: Edward Yang's "Taipei Story"

Edward Yang's second feature, "Taipei Story" gives us glimpses of the impulses that would drive a majority of his later work. Though the film stays primarily focused on a couple instead of the panoramic array of characters that will embody his films directly after this sophomore effort, there are striking hallmarks within "Taipei Story" that make it a necessary stopover for anyone interested in this greatly under-represented filmmaker.


Charting the romantic demise of a couple, Lung (Hou Hsiao Hsien) and Chin (Chin Tsai), "Taipei Story" can be seen as an allegory for Taipei itself. In one of the film's early scenes, an architect who works with Chin stares out the window (a prominent theme throughout the film) at the Taipei skyline and comments that he can barely remember which buildings he helped design. It's an ominous quote that will hang over the remainder of the film as Chin and Lung grow apart and become indecipherable to each other. Chin's company is purchased by another and her job is deemed "redundant", so she quits. Lung, unable to really let go of the past, travels to America to visit family and returns with faded dreams of emigrating there and helping his brother-in-law with his business. After a brief conversation- and a walk through a spacious apartment building that Chin wants to rent in the opening scene- Yang keeps his couple apart with missed appointments at karaoke bars and Lung spacing out in front of a television set watching tapes of last year's baseball games. There are no great arguments or heavy emotional conflicts between them. Silence, indifference and the restlessness of being together for so long gently wash over the couple, and Yang's patient camera and sense of impending dread take control and turn "Taipei Story" into a cautious little thriller. There are eventual outbursts of violence and a finale that hurts, but overall, "Taipei Story" works in little flourishes.


As part of the revolving group of creative artists who spearheaded the Taiwanese New Wave, actor Hou Hsiao Hsien would make a bigger name for himself as a director. It's not hard to imagine a terrific career as an actor as well, emoting so much through his slumped shoulders and the way he uses his hands to cover his face while smoking a cigarette. Likewise, actress Chin Tsai- who would later be Yang's wife for several years- creates a full blooded character. There are slight flirtations with a male coworker, but we get the sense that she truly loves Lung. By placing her in the upscale corporate world in a time of major technological upheaval, it's easy to understand the massive confusion she's facing both professionally and personally. And as a final perfect ending- the image of her staring out a high rise window, unaware of what's happened to Lung below, encapsulates so much professionally and personally for all involved.... director Yang as well. Taipei would never look the same.

Don't Answer the Phone: Edward Yang's "The Terrorizers"

The pivotal tragic action at the center of Edward Yang's remarkable 1986 film "The Terrorizers" is barely given emphasis. A disgruntled gang members girlfriend, named "White Chick", makes a prank phone call to a female writer (Cora Miao)describing that her doctor husband (Lee Chi Chun) is having an affair. Already in the midst of marital discomfort through her inability to finish her novel and he in the middle of a major shake-up at work, this declaration of infidelity pushes them (and the film itself) into a mirror hall of art versus reality and violent urges. Despite the fact of any real truth behind the phone call, "The Terrorizers" gets both its title and its quiet tension through this obfuscated act that defines the intelligent work of Edward Yang.... a filmmaker who slowly builds up the pieces of the puzzle and forces the viewer to infer the major moments of his work through instinct and feeling.


In addition to the malaise of the married couple, there's a teenage photographer (Shanquon Hong) who films the opening raid in which White Chick flees from the cops, and in a bit of Hitchcock-like obsession, falls in love with her. He rents out her apartment and creates a wall-sized mural of her pictures. At first, his presence in the film feels like another cog in Yang's spinning modern Taipei society, but its his interpretation of White Chick's apocalyptic phone call that begets the bloodletting.


The most thrilling aspect of "The Terrorizers" is not the very thin above plot synopsis. Yang's films defy description, really. Filmed in 1984 and '85 and eventually released in 1986, Yang and fellow countryman Hou Hsiao-Hsien were just beginning to break through on the international scene. "The Terrorizers" and Hsiao-Hsien's early 90's films are breathtaking for their introduction of a new cinematic vernacular. The way their camera slowly swivels around in a scene, following and observing the interaction between the characters rather than directing the action... the non-linear editing style that continually places the viewer in identification mode... or the depth of field out windows, around hallways or through doorways. It's all very distinctive. And "The Terrorizers" is one of Yang's early efforts in a long line of distinctive and impressive works.

Children Of War: Edward Yang's "A Brighter Summer Day"

In the annuls of ironic film titles, Edward Yang's 4 hour masterpiece certainly takes the cake. Taking place in the summer of 1959 and the following year, Yang's film is autobiographical in the sense that his family lived through the same turbulent times. Yang's family was displaced from China into Taiwan during the late 40's and the film's slow-evolving burst of violence is based on an actual incident. Everything in between is immersing and, at times, overwhelming. "A Brighter Summer Day" does focus on one central family (and essentially a young boy named Sir) as they face problems both intimately and politically.

Released in 1991 and growing marginally over the next few years where it received critical support slowly when it was shown at various film festivals or Yang retrospectives, "A Brighter Summer Day" has been my number one sought after film for several years now and it doesn't disappoint. It's length is almost necessary... observing a sprawling group of students and street gangs as they fall in love, fight with each other, deal with domestic problems within their families and, perhaps most importantly, swoon with Elvis Presley records and diligently decipher the lyrics. Still, the street gang violence eventually overtakes as the crux of the film, with its many young child stars evolving from innocent bouts of fistfighting and gangster posturing to bats and samurai swords. Yang quietly belies the fact that the children's seething angst mirrors the unhappiness of their parents resentment for leaving their homeland for an uncertain future.


Like the films of Hou Hsiao-Hsien, "A Brighter Summer Day" is an instinctual film. Yang never rushes any shots, resorts to simple camera movement and gentle dollies to enhance the narrative, and allows the lingering strands of his multiple stories to breathe. For example, one of the surface characters is gang leader Honey. He's only mentioned for the first two hours or so, and when he does finally arrive on-screen, his name is never mentioned but the viewer gets an immediate idea of his presence. And while the many gang fights can be disorienting as to their root cause (and Yang doesn't help matters by obscuring most of them at night time or during a driving rainstorm), what's important is the gradual impact they have on Sir (Chen Chang) and his impressionable group of friends. Thrown into the mix are several girlfriends to the gangs that only raise the hormone and jealousy level, eventually causing the roof to blow off in shocking ways.

Yang would make several more films after "A Brighter Summer Day" dealing with some of the same issues of cultural and political displacement. Of course, 2001 would bring him international acclaim with his powerful film "Yi Yi". That would be the last film he would make, passing away from cancer in 2007. I can't imagine a more inspiring way to memorialize a life in "A Brighter Summer Day". It's full of so many gentle moments amid the violence and it lovingly recreates the excitement of discovering rock and roll music like few films. Our first loves may not result in the type of violence that spews out in Sir, but the feeling of uncertaintly and the desire to simply blend in are universal themes and "A Brighter Summer Day" crystallize it.