Original subtitles

Don't interrupt me!

I know when to stop.

Okay.

Here we go.

Ten major construction projects in the 70s

drove Taiwan's economic development.

It was also the era

of Taiwan's international defeat.

Withdrawal from the UN, breaking away from the US

led to diplomatic isolation.

Taiwan was isolated.

As a result of those developments

the middle-class grew more independent

and demanded an allocation of power.

The history of Taiwan was revealed

piece by piece.

At this time,

politics, the economy and culture mixed up.

The Native Literature movement emerged

telling stories of the island,

while Cloud Gate told it with dances.

The Folk Song movement and Beautiful Island magazine

then appeared.

In the 80s, after the Formosa Incident,

they became prominent.

Most direct, artistically,

were the small theater companies.

Everyone had something to say.

And then came Taiwan New Cinema.

Its expression was on a grand scale,

which was very powerful.

In The Boys From Fengkuei

people dance by the sea, in the waves,

and they migrate to the big cities.

In A City of Sadness

we saw the process of time,

the sacrifice of people.

In That Day, On The Beach

the social elite indulge past glories

in an uncertain present.

In A Brighter Summer Day

troubled youngsters

try to release their pent-up energy.

The collision of repressed emotions is the theme of the 80s.

Abolition of Martial Law in 1987.

Liberation of cross-strait relations.

On the basis of what was founded in the 70s,

great things were achieved in the 80s.

Which shaped the open, liberal society of Taiwan today.

Among all this,

theater, cinema, art and literature

played critical roles.

Done, isn't it?

Thank you.

In the corridor of a hospital

a nurse is running.

In the corridor of a hospital

light flickers.

A mosquito net...

On a train,

a man who can't speak.

A young student is stabbed by her lover.

About 20 years ago, I was studying film in Chicago.

I watched many different kinds of films.

I was inspired by American experimental cinema.

The Film Center showed many Asian films,

from Iran and Taiwan.

Watching these films,

I was stunned by their novelty.

They were unfamiliar, a different form of film.

They were the kind of films I was looking for.

They were not experimental per se,

but they connected to what I grew up with.

Especially the films of Hou Hsiao-Hsien.

They were part of why I returned to work in Thailand.

His work reminded me of home.

And I recalled my life experience.

I think his films dealt with memories.

They were the spark that made

me believe our memories have value.

Film is memory.

New Taiwan Cinema continues to influence my work.

Often I think, after shooting,

why did I frame like this?'

and realize I'm recalling Taiwan New Cinema films,

their flat compositions,

or using windows or doors

to make a frame within a frame.

It's usually straight and flat, not angled.

Simple and austere.

I must be influenced by them.

Another influence relates to time.

It makes me think I'm observing myself,

not watching a film.

When I watch a film by Hou Hsiao-Hsien,

Edward Yang, Tsai Ming-Liang,

I always fall asleep.

Years later, my films put audiences to sleep.

I think, maybe, there's a special power to these films

that takes viewers to a different world,

a different state of relaxation,

where we can leave ourselves behind.

Film transports us to a dream world,

then as we wake, we're still there,

almost like a unique voyage.

The first film I watched was The Boys from Fengkuei.

I remember very clearly.

How stunned I was.

It had such exceptional freshness and talent.

Freshness refers to

the ease of access into this cinema, for me.

It took me back to the origin of films,

to the era of silent films.

The Sandwich Man and In Our Time,

these films were a success.

Followed by A Summer at Grandpa's and A Time to Live, A Time to Die,

and Edward Yang's Taipei Story, and The Terrorizers...

All these films acquired a cultural identity for Taiwan.

After thirty years

I can still feel that freshness,

that feeling of going back to the beginning.

Maybe it didn't happen consciously

or they were not very clear about the origins,

but they somehow uncovered something original.

1983 and the following years were just like a miracle.

It's hard to know where to start talking about New Taiwan Cinema

because I think it fits into a bigger picture of renewal occurred right across East Asia,

in the various countries of East Asia,

and it's still in progress even as we speak actually, it isn't finished yet.

My introduction to New Taiwan Cinema came in the person of Edward Yang.

He came to London Film Festival with In Our Time in 1983.

I was working for the festival at the time,

I met him there and had to look after him and we became friends

and remained so until his death.

Although the film was not brand new at that point,

it took somewhat two years

to reach London Film Festival,

but I believe it was its first screening outside of Taiwan.

And Edward was still very much in the first flush of solidarity with his colleagues.

So he arrived with a stack of U-Matic tapes of other films recently made.

At that time he was tremendously supportive of Hou Hsiao-Hsien,

he had recommended him to do classical music for the soundtrack of the Boys from Fengkuei,

and they were very supportive and working quite closely with each other at that time.

For me, I guess the main figures came to be

Edward Yang, Hou Hsiao-Hsien of course,

and Wu Nian-Chen who became director a bit later.

But the other filmmaker I liked the most in those early years was Ko I-Chen.

I thought he was a little different from the others,

much more interested in formal and stylistic experiments,

he seemed to be less political,

less engaged with the project, if you like.

Loosely she has done up her hair;

Thinly she has powdered her face.

In rosy smoke and purple mist she looks so fair;

As light as willow down she walks with grace.

Before we part, we long to meet;

Amorous, she seems not in love.

I should write literature.

I have such passion in my heart.

My eyes give away my presumptions,

and my lips will tell you

I love you.

Marco, you returned from China in 1978, and immediately went to...

Hong Kong, where everyone told me...

By that time I often met Edward Yang in Hong Kong.

When he completed his first feature in 1981,

he mentioned to me two collective film projects.

From these collective films

you could see something developing that might turn into a movement.

The most important thing was the invention of a new type of production.

Even though everything was under the control of the CMPC,

the giant semi-governmental film organization,

for quite a long time

there was a stunning atmosphere of creative freedom.

After unveiling New Taiwan Cinema

and the Hong Kong New Wave,

I was eager to explore much more.

But we decided to focus on Taiwan New Cinema.

In 1984, in Pesaro, we held the first retrospective

which included important documents and film reviews

that hadn't previously been seen.

So, you witnessed the development of Taiwan cinema?

At first I knew nothing about Taiwan cinema.

At that time, no one was familiar with Chinese cinema,

past or present.

Marco Müller held a retrospective for Chinese films

at the Torino Film Festival in 1981.

Taiwan cinema was banned for political reasons.

It was incredible enough to see any Chinese film in Europe!

Taiwanese and Chinese cinemas couldn't possibly coexist.

It was all vague and unclear.

All information and messages were partial and incomplete.

We didn't know about the background of these films.

Tesson and I were trying to establish some framework

to introduce Chinese-language films,

and to learn their scope and history.

When I started research in Hong Kong in 1984

the new Chinese cinema was Hong Kong.

To my surprise, around the same time,

new cinemas were emerging in several places out of various backgrounds.

There was no commercial studio system, as in Hong Kong,

there was the very peculiar system of the Republic of China.

While Taiwan was almost like a desert.

No!

I don't think Taiwan was a film desert.

On the contrary, it had great variety,

with a stable audience, though not a young one.

Unlike genre films in Hong Kong,

or commercial Hollywood,

which focus on youngsters,

Taiwan cinema maintained historical values.

It was inspired by literature,

with genres like the melodrama, and mostly for mature audiences.

Mei, you started to tell me something?

Nothing, cousin.

You believe wishes can bring happiness?

Sometimes. Why do you ask?

I wish you happiness for ever.

Thank you.

But it's true that in Taiwan things shaped up differently,

because there were artists and writers, who nourished New Taiwan Cinema,

with their new ideas, like Wu Nien-Chen.

That's where a generation of filmmakers met their national history.

Hello, this is the Secretary General to the Ambassador of the United States of America.

I think I'm the wrong guy to ask about the duration of the movement,

because I never resort it as a movement in the first place.

I didn't really see a cohesiveness of a purpose

except in the very early stages.

It was a scattered and dispersed group.

What they really had in common was the desire to do different.

They wanted to make a different kind of film, in a different way,

different style,

more in tune with international cinema.

They wanted something that could be shown internationally,

that could hold its head up internationally,

over-standarded,

that could match the best out there in the world,

and at the same time to be assertively Taiwanese,

in a way that would force the world to recognize that

there was something happening in Taiwan. That is distinct and special.

A-Suat, your uncle has been captured.

We don't know where he is.

We thought about escaping

but where to?

I became programmer at the Venice Film Festival,

in charge of Japan and Greater China.

I thought it was time to make a push

so that a Taiwanese film, A City of Sadness, could be in competition.

The old lion of Chinese cinema, director Xie Jin,

convinced the jury, chaired by the Italian Pupi Avati,

that this film was a discovery,

that it will make history in Chinese cinema,

that they should give it an important award,

and be the ones marking a new chapter in cinema history.

It assured Taiwan's existence.

At that point there had been the first of many diplomatic incidents.

Taiwan's flag was hung on the Palazzo del Cinema.

We had to bring it down after an official Chinese protest.

I was staying across the street at The Excelsior Hotel.

We received the whole Taiwanese team with their national flags,

so they could meet the press and do television interviews

without losing their identity as a nation.

Although we received a prize there are more things to do.

You can't get overwhelmed by it.

Now I think we won't.

Actually we are very clear,

we'll keep working hard.

The sad truth is,

New Taiwan films, with the partially exception of Yi Yi,

didn't really break through into box offices.

They didn't reach that kind of traction in distribution terms.

The films these masters have made,

are on the whole quite difficult for the audiences.

They insist on looking at aspects of Taiwan life,

aspects of Taiwan modern history,

that will destined to remain elusive to the general audience.

The general audience is never going to understand about

the White Terror purges of the 1950's,

they will never understand what it means to be a native Taiwanese

v.s. an immigrant of Main Land China.

They will never understand the social or the psychological resonances

despite the fact that heroic filmmakers like Hou Hsiao-Hsien,

have done their best to explain these things through their art.

It's never going to be a meaningful issue in the minds of most viewers.

However, the fact that these people approached this kind of work with such seriousness,

and with such aesthetic innovation,

the fact that they came with so many brilliant new ideas

in terms of film language, framing, mise en scene;

in particular the way they approached long mise en scene,

has had an enormous influence on a lot of people

on the most widely scattered areas and places.

Look what I found at home,

the program booklet from Lugones Theater.

The Taiwan New Cinema programme?

And it's still intact.

It's been thirteen years,

I kept it in a closet

with all my scripts, films and catalogues.

I sort of grew up with Hou Hsiao-Hsien.

I've followed his films since the 80s.

In Argentina? Before BAFICI Film Festival?

No, not here.

I lived in New York in the 80s.

I saw them over there.

Not in a movie theatre

but a small Asian film festival held in Chinatown.

I first watched a film by Hou Hsiao-Hsien,

and I loved it right away.

So I started to follow Taiwanese cinema closely,

and was enchanted by it.

What image do you keep of Taiwan and its directors?

Not the image of a nation, but rather

of a certain cinema.

To me, Taiwanese cinema is the only one that feels intimate to me,

like the New Wave in the 60s.

But the 60s is not my generation,

New Taiwan Cinema seemed closer to me.

Not to a certain director, but to many directors.

I was told Taiwan New Cinema refers only to

certain films made between 1982 and 1986.

So there were only a few, the later

development of the directors varies.

I got to know them as a whole, all the New Waves...

Was it the result of film festivals?

No, because they aren't my contemporaries

so I'm learning to appreciate this complicated

and somewhat slower cinema.

What's wrong?

I failed my maths exam.

Why didn't you get help?

My name is Ichiyama Shozo,

I'm a film producer.

I worked with Hou Hsiao-Hsien on Good Men, Good Women,

Goodbye South, Goodbye and Flowers of Shanghai.

Then I became Jia Zhangke's producer.

After The Puppetmaster screened at the Tokyo Film Festival

someone from Hou's company contacted me.

They were in pre-production for his next project,

but an investor withdrew abruptly

which caused them problems.

They asked if a Japanese company could invest.

I don't know if other Taiwanese directors work like this

or only Hou Hsiao-Hsien.

But for the Japanese,

it's such a free way to make films, it's unimaginable.

You could argue that it's extravagant,

but that's how he makes films.

I worked with Hou Hsiao-Hsien about ten years ago.

At this secondhand bookstore we made the film Café Lumière.

I appreciate his way of directing,

it emphasizes the actors.

Sometimes we would finish a scene

and he'd do the same scene the next day.

In Japan, that's considered a re-take and is usually avoided

unless there is some critical problem.

But he shot the same scene over many days.

One day I asked him why we kept re-shooting.

He said to me:

"Because you look more lively today."

Then I understood the fundamental point.

The most important thing in film is to capture the energy of actors.

Not only humans, but also the weather,

the atmosphere,

and the location.

He focuses on these.

I met him once before the shooting.

I was surprised right away.

The production booked him a nice hotel

but he cancelled it and moved to

a business hotel near New Okubo Station.

I was told to meet him there.

When I met him,

he seemed less like a filmmaker than a friendly uncle.

Right away I said to myself, I'll enjoy working with him.

This is Koryukaku Hotel,

in front of New Okubo Station

where Hou usually stays in Tokyo.

Often I took him back here for meetings.

It feels familiar, it's a place with memories.

The last scene of Millennium Mambo was shot here.

I've worked in films for 30 years.

That's not the point,

but the 30th anniversary of Taiwan New Cinema

is also my 30th anniversary.

Maybe that's destiny.

I find it interesting.

And I'm honored to talk about it.

I'd say it's Edward Yang's films that inspired me.

The first one I saw was A Brighter Summer Day.

It left a deep impression.

Then Mahjong,

A Confucian Confusion, Yi Yi.

All his films affect me profoundly.

I don't think Taiwan films at that time

captured Taiwan in a raw fashion.

On the contrary, their film language was sophisticated.

They didn't build sets,

and used real people and locations.

By carefully using existing elements

they achieved cinematic results.

And they all had individual styles.

The films looked natural and dramatic at the same time.

Taiwan cinema is well-known in Japan

although some directors' films

have never been introduced here.

One of them is Wang Tung.

It's such a pity,

I love his work very much.

All of his films are great.

I especially like Banana Paradise.

The Chinese Nationalists lost the civil war and fled to Taiwan.

The clash between locals and the newcomers

saw the emergence of new values.

The ordinary people who constituted Taiwanese society

turned their sorrows into humor.

It might be a bit rude to say,

but it deeply touches my heart.

Stop.

What now?

I don't understand the song you're singing.

I'll sing a song.

Let me begin.

"I hold a gun against my shoulder..."

"a grenade hangs from my chest."

"Chin up, chest out!"

Another song!

Let's sing My Hometown (Mandarin)

Whose Town? (Taiwanese)

Home-town.

What-Town?

"Oh, fellows in my home town"

"come join the army and serve your country."

"Since the Japanese invasion,"

"my wife and children have suffered."

There's a certain sadness within Taiwanese society.

Before claiming its identity,

it's hard to say...

Taiwan had adopted both Chinese and Japanese culture,

in addition to other cultures.

Well, highlighting the uniqueness of Taiwan...

My father was born in Kaoshiung.

He also had his education there.

He went to high school in Chiayi.

He grew up in the south of Taiwan.

After graduation from high school

he worked in Lushun, China,

then completed his military service

and was sent to Siberia.

3 years after the end of the war

he arrived for the first time in Japan.

Though he had a perilous youth

he said he had a great life in Taiwan.

It's one of the small parts of his life

where he could live carefree.

He always mentioned how good the bananas were,

or how tasty the pineapple was.

He said these things repeatedly.

When I was little, whenever he was in a good mood

he'd bring some pineapples home

and slice them up like this.

As we enjoyed the pineapple

he was there murmuring

"the ones from Taiwan taste much better."

So when I finally watched A Time to Live, A Time to Die,

it connected to my childhood,

with certain unspoken intimacy,

which wasn't a bad thing.

But personally, when I grew up,

and thought about the relation between Japan and Taiwan

I couldn't simply cover it

with my father's carefree youth, could I?

I was deeply moved by that film

and I thought this is what I want to shoot.

Honestly, Japanese films in the 80s,

though there were some directors I respect,

there weren't any that I wanted to follow.

It was like the match I'd been waiting for.

This is the Chigasaki Kan hotel,

about one hour from Tokyo.

Ozu Yasujiro and Noda Kogo, the director and writer duo,

used to work in this room.

It would have looked exactly as it is now.

They wrote the screenplay for Tokyo Story here.

When a Japanese watches Taiwan cinema

what he'd notice first is

how Taiwan inherits Japanese culture.

For example, in A Summer At Grandpa's,

Dong Dong visits his grandpa in the countryside.

His grandpa is a doctor

and his clinic is in an old building.

I'd not seen such buildings abroad.

It's a typical Japanese countryside clinic of the old days.

Those scenes evoke nostalgia.

However, even though it's reminiscent of sweet memories,

it's difficult to feel delight,

because colonial history is always dark.

The locals must have suffered.

Seeing Super Citizen Ko by Wan Jen,

I felt an acute pain.

The film portrays the White Terror of the 50s,

when intellectuals were persecuted.

The intellectuals at that time received a Japanese education

and read political essays in Japanese.

But such academic activities

led to the accusation of treason.

The last scene,

I don't remember too well,

the main character, to redeem himself,

went to look for the grave of his friend who was executed.

He begs for forgiveness in Japanese.

He uses Japanese to express his feelings.

That was very hard for me.

It's my most memorable scene from Taiwan cinema.

I am sorry.

As filmmakers in Hong Kong, starting out in TV,

we were all quite close.

We would meet up in private

but could rarely work with each other.

But in Taiwan,

filmmakers helped each other.

Hou Hsiao-Hsien sold his house

to finance Edward Yang's Taipei Story.

He'd done that before

with Growing Up. He does that all the time.

That's a great atmosphere.

When I shot Ah-Fu over there

Yang also asked people to help me out.

They had a strong bond of friendship.

The 80s was an overwhelming decade in Taiwan.

In Hong Kong we only realized that later.

Edward Yang wanted to write about

people visiting their old homes in China.

But things happened so fast,

there was no time to record them.

No time to write scripts.

Attention!

Face the front.

Eyes front!

At ease.

Attention!

Right turn.

Stupid!

Left turn.

Watch your brother.

C'mon, pay attention, will you?

Wrong again, you're twisting.

Don't you know how to turn?

Attention!

At ease.

Attention!

At ease.

Right turn.

You have to make the right sound.

Give it all you've got.

Attention!

Face the front!

The best films, to me,

capture the realities of their time,

and respond to them.

For me, New Taiwan Cinema completely does this.

Whatever the period of those films, old or modern,

they totally captured the spirit of their times,

vividly, with a clear point of view.

Its humanism,

its concerns for society, are all very obvious.

Hong Kong cinema has also produced films with similar sensibilities,

but there were limits in Hong Kong films.

That is,

they had to remain commercial.

Commercial above all, with only a few exceptions.

I wouldn't call it a pressure

but certainly a natural condition

for survival.

But in Taiwan,

later on,

I know they also struggled

with the pressures

but they had great courage.

I don't know where they got that from.

I wasn't aware if they suffered,

they didn't show it to me.

But they had persistence and determination.

That's what I admire.

That's not obvious to Hong Kong people.

Why am I in Hong Kong?

Why am I in Hong Kong?

Some students in China said

they expect to see gunfire on the streets of Hong Kong,

or find the restaurants full of Mafia meetings.

This is the common experience for Chinese audiences

watching Hong Kong films.

In Hong Kong genre films

everything seems magical, surreal.

That creates misunderstandings.

But Taiwan is a different case.

Taiwan New Cinema...

On my first visit to Taiwan

I found that even in a local store or hotel

people living, working,

the way they talk, mixing Mandarin and Taiwanese,

it feels very familiar, as if I've been there before.

It's hard to find those feelings

in China's Fifth Generation films,

Ju Dou or Yellow Earth, say,

those films seemed far away to us.

Their approach is very different.

It's not about judging which is better

just a shortcoming in this respect.

Of all the Taiwan New Cinema directors,

I felt closest to Wang Tung.

In films like Strawman,

and Hill of No Return,

with rural situations,

the cruelty and absurdity of that,

he dealt with it beautifully.

It was close to my experience in Sichuan.

With Dust In The Wind,

and A Time To Live, A Time To Die,

I didn't expect films could be so down to earth.

Wang has a unique sense of humor,

and a sense of the soil

that differs from Hou Hsiao-Hsien's.

Another influential director is Edward Yang.

Once I got to know more about city life,

and learned more about myself,

his films really touched me.

Now, looking back,

they are like prophecies for China today,

the interpersonal relationships in modern cities.

I don't understand the strategy of giant corporations.

They even merge companies in dispute.

That's what they are good at.

These things make you believe more and more in fate.

It doesn't matter how careful you are,

the slightest error can lead to fatal consequences.

You don't believe me?

I don't want to be so pessimistic.

I don't want to be so pessimistic.

Look at these buildings,

I'm more and more confused.

I don't know which ones I designed, which ones I didn't.

They all look the same.

It's like I don't exist.

When I first contacted these filmmakers

trying to understand the topics they were dealing with,

I realized two things.

In Hou's films I sensed something Chinese

before seeing a Taiwaneseness.

At that time there were no modern films in China.

Not in 1984. But in 85-86, modern films like

Yellow Earth and Red Sorghum appeared...

Ok, but I can't agree with that.

Even though I like these films

their modernity is far behind

that of Hou in terms of purity and boldness.

I agree, my point is,

in The Boys From Fengkuei or That Day, On The Beach

I see traces of Western films.

For example, A Summer At Grandpa's reminds me of Rossellini,

That Day, On The Beach makes me think of Antonioni.

But when I watch Yellow Earth I don't find those resonances.

I think it's from a totally eccentric film world.

It's not about which is better or more modern,

just a matter of signs.

I must confess

the reason I'm attracted to the films of Hou and Yang

is that they don't carry exotic signs,

rather, the spirit of modern films.

Had they appeared in Italy or France,

I'd be impressed also.

To me, the key thing is

they brought Taiwan cinema into the realm of modern cinema.

But you still say it's Chinese.

When I watched The Boys From Fengkuei,

during the whole 90 minutes

I was totally lost in the film.

Give me the money. Quick!

Give me the change.

Go through there.

Hurry, or the cops will be here.

There's nothing here.

Damn, we were cheated.

It's in Cinemascope, in full color!

After I finished the film,

I strongly felt it was about me,

about my friends,

and the young people around me.

I've no idea

how this film from Taiwan

could reflect myself so truthfully.

Now looking back,

the film shows Taiwan's changing economy,

as well as the change in its political atmosphere.

In the 90s when I studied film

China was undergoing similar economic change.

A time for political change too,

though 10 years later than Taiwan.

But the change was very similar.

Taiwan New Cinema, as a current

or as a film movement,

has brought me great inspiration.

Those films connect to reality,

personal experience, and memories very closely.

This attitude towards culture, or writing style,

was interrupted in China during the Cultural Revolution.

To me, these films connect

to a tradition of Chinese cinema,

like those in the 20s and 30s,

even to the literary tradition of that time.

You go home first, I'm not going back.

Where are you going?

How can I go home alone?

Don't be like this.

Taiwan New Cinema is in fact pretty slow.

It takes effort to watch.

It's not easy to apprehend.

At that time I just felt...

I like watching Taiwan New Cinema

because it reveals something attractive.

because it reveals something attractive.

I think it didn't involve the society directly.

but rather indirectly.

In an interesting way

you can feel the connection, something of that time,

but what's said goes beyond

its time and covers different views.

I think it's quite special.

What's your name?

I came to clarify something.

I'm Liu Xiaodong. I'm a painter.

Not too familiar with movies,

haven't watched films systematically.

I remember the first film I saw was Taipei Story,

starring Hou Hsiao-Hsien and Tsai Chin.

It's a very quiet film.

I remember one of its lines.

Tsai walks slowly into the foreground and says:

"Did you go to Tokyo this time?"

Hou appears in the background and says: "just passing."

He moves out of frame, then back in again:

"without stopping."

Experts may have different opinions,

but when I think of this film,

just this shot and this line alone,

expresses a lot of psychology

Chin, we're going over to Lai's.

Got some video tapes for him.

I might watch them play chess.

You staying over or going home tonight?

Staying.

Then I'll see you.

Lon!

Lon!

Did you go to Tokyo on your way back?

Just in transit, didn't stay.

Being attached to this world

while keeping a distance from it.

Because once involved, you can no longer be objective.

I find this kind of aesthetics very inspirational.

What I learned the most is

to keep a distance from all fixed values.

Once you take that perspective,

whether you're a painter, photographer or writer,

with this attitude

you can see the bigger picture.

The first time I watched Taiwan cinema was in New York.

I think it was the New York Film Festival

I watched A Time to Live, A Time to Die,

then A City of Sadness.

That's it.

Didn't you ask me my first time?

Should I say some more?

When I watched the work of Hou Hsiao-Hsien

I was totally blown away.

I never expected to see in Chinese-language films

something of such quality.

So calm and tranquil,

with unique texture and rhythm.

A Time To Live, A Time To Die is an important film for me.

I was 17, first year of film school.

One evening that summer, during military training,

there was an outdoor film screening.

Each one of us had a blanket, tied up like a backpack.

Carrying our backpacks, we ran to a very large sports field.

Then we sat on the blankets.

They projected the film onto a gigantic screen.

It was dark all around and the screen was glowing brightly.

Everybody was transfixed,

listening to: 'Ahao-gu! Ahao-gu!'

The wind was blowing strongly.

In the woods around the field

the leaves were rustling.

In the dark, by myself, I was deeply captivated by the screen,

I realized from now on I will be making films.

I was touched and excited.

Either Hou Hsiao-Hsien or Edward Yang

kept in themselves something unique:

so-called humanism.

That is what a true artist should have.

A very personalized thinking

that connects feeling with local reality

through a deep relationship

and a deep understanding.

That's something that has been destroyed in China.

It's a very special quality.

When it emerged from Taiwan

it certainly earned the island some respect.

Because if Taiwan can produce such directors,

it says a lot about China.

In A Brighter Summer Day,

the narrative is very strong,

but it also has a great sense of history,

in particular how you remember history.

It's realistic and personal.

Yes, real and individual.

Because there are many kinds of memories.

Some are macroscopic,

some are fleeting and individual.

Of these two,

I think New Taiwan Cinema shows more individual memories.

We have undergone a history of Communism,

That's why the Fifth Generation didn't act like the Taiwanese directors.

They didn't communicate with each other.

It's because of our historical situation.

The work of Zhang Yimou or Chen Kaige for example,

they made good films,

but those films were limited.

But Hou Hsiao-Hsien and Edward Yang didn't have this problem.

I don't see any artistic limitation

in Farewell My Concubine.

I see only stories.

Go and watch those films again, do it.

It's all built on dialogue.

I think they have a very high quality visual language.

There's no people.

Huh?

But Hou's films are different.

In his films, take any scene,

they're human beings.

- Really? - They are real people

in his films.

Only ordinary people are people?

No, no matter the character, they are alive.

So you think Cheng and Duan are not people

but historical signs?

It's collective cinema.

We need to change this, but how?

Not by changing visual style

or formal explorations.

Most important is people, people and cinema.

I like New Taiwan Cinema because it has

this relationship between people and cinema.

It feels real...

Define a precise context in which

these films are important,

instead of in general terms!

Chinese literature, in the history of Chinese literature...

Without the Records of the Grand Historians,

what is left?

Many

- Like what? - Like The Lament,

- But it's two different issues. - And Nine Songs.

It's more than two issues!

You can't take something out of context and blow it up.

Look, literature's not our field,

I'm just saying

why this book's important to me.

Because after all these centuries,

it's still alive.

It's still so vivid and truthful...

OK, we don't question this.

What I mean is,

this book is unique in Chinese history.

Taiwan New Cinema is also special. Why?

It's not a collective product.

It has individual perspectives,

looking at a specific time and revealing some truth.

That's what's important.

Also what's lacking in Fifth Generation films.

I'm not denying the value of Chinese cinema

but I think its biggest problem is...

Exactly, in ancient times

we had 'history-oriented' accounts,

taking an historical point of view for the sake of it.

But from Five Dynasties,

there was an awakening of individual perception,

that was progress.

You can't bulldoze it all,

ignoring this little yet important change.

It brought out the value of people,

though I reckon it's not as concrete

as in Taiwan New Cinema...

But it's so different!

In fact, I'm mostly interested in

the dynamics within the movement,

how close the filmmakers were to each other.

We saw Hou act in Yang's films.

Hou also produced Yang.

It was a lifestyle.

For me Taiwan cinema in the 80s

was also a kind of life experience through filmmaking.

Maybe the fading of the movement

is related to Taiwan's democratization.

A City of Sadness, I think...

fulfilled the need of a time.

There was a strong demand

from the society for such a film.

There's no need for nostalgia.

It's just that a certain way of filmmaking is gone.

As for Hou and Yang,

I don't know if they met up

during Yang's last days.

Did they have tea together?

Did they share ideas about films?

What we should remember is maybe a certain way of living.

She broke up with Hao-Hao,

but he always tracked her down.

Called her...

Begged her to come back...

Again and again.

As if under a spell

or hypnotized...

She couldn't escape.

She always came back.

She told herself...

that she had 500,000 in the bank.

When she'd used it up,

she would leave him for good.

I don't think...

I don't consider myself connected to Taiwan New Cinema.

I am different.

I don't carry that burden.

I just think filmmaking is an individual thing.

Doing your own thing.

So, you know... but people still drag me in

because of the box office.

If you consider film as an art form,

a film is like a classic.

Its value is not determined by the audience.

It's determined by time.

Not of the moment,

but over the long term.

It's there.

Waiting for you to mature.

Taiwan New Cinema couldn't be a widespread phenomenon.

Like all art films.

A long time ago, elsewhere, maybe.

Those who came after us were affected

by the aftermath of Taiwan New Cinema,

and they suffered.

But also because of the circumstances.

It was the downfall of the industry.

Nothing you could do.

Whether the industry prospers or not,

has nothing to do with your artistic choices.

It's not connected.

All artistic expression is rooted in its time.

It's the context that shapes it.

It's impossible otherwise.

Is there a new cinema now?

I don't see it.

Of course youngsters always try new stuff.

It's the era of the Internet!

They're exposed to all kinds of visual languages.

But we haven't seen a new cinema yet.

What is new cinema?

All forms have been tried before

to the point that there are no new tricks.

The most important is still content,

content of its times.