REVIEW: The Farewell

The Farewell is a movie about an ending coming suddenly into sight. Billi (Awkwafina) comes home to do laundry and comes away with the knowledge that her grandmother, Nai Nai (Zhao Shuzhen), has only a few months to live. With that fatal deadline looming, the entire family has decided to lie to Nai Nai, hoping to ease her mind by keeping the diagnosis of lung cancer a secret. Billi, though, has her doubts, complicated, in no small part, by her own need to say goodbye. But the rest of the family is insistent. They will gather together at Nai Nai’s apartment in China under the false pretense of a wedding. They will carry this secret so that Nai Nai won’t have to.

Much of the comedy comes from the fact that no one – not Billi, not her parents, not her uncles or cousins – can bear the weight of that secret entirely. The cracks widen with each barely mustered smile, with each nervous side-glance after a misplaced word. There is a palpable awkwardness to every interaction, as every member of the clan works to maintain a flailing façade. Even the shots are intentionally awkward. Frames are shot from the perspective of an individual in the scene, inserting the viewer first-hand into the lie. We are confronted by the knowing faces and a painful self-awareness. And we laugh as those faces contort into an expression resembling a smile. Because what else is there to do in a situation as dire as a coming death? So, the secret becomes an elaborate distraction, as much for the living’s sake as for the dying.

Together, the family help Nai Nai assemble the wedding. She attacks the tasks with a relentless zeal. There is no danger greater, after all, than a grandmother spurned. Of course, the wedding must have lobster instead of crab. Of course, the couple must be posed to indicate a perfect romance. Anything less would be unworthy of the family she has built. Nai Nia projects such familial fierceness that the false occasion takes on more than a tinge of truth. Feelings that were once faked become frighteningly real. Tensions buried for years bubble up and erupt. For as much as the family is united, they are also fractured in ways that only family can be. Billi’s father (played as a plodding gloom by Tzi Ma) and her uncle (Yongbo Jiang) are constantly at odds. They have been separated by long years and longer distances. While Billi’s father moved his small portion of the clan to the United States, his brother chose Japan. Now, they are brought together once again, back to where they came from. They share cigarettes at night while splitting a much heavier burden. They will have to be the pillars of the family from now on.

These poignant, lingering moments are sometimes interrupted by less poignant moments that linger even longer. The director, Lulu Wang, often uses slow-motion shots for emphasis but it comes off as syrupy instead. There is a sense of trying a bit too hard to romanticize the moment, as if the movie is memorializing this moment just as the characters are memorializing theirs. It is a good sentiment, executed less than perfectly. By, what feels like, the fiftieth poignant moment, you want the film to move on. But it can’t. The movie is stuck. The characters are stuck between celebrating life and mourning death, one that is still approaching. The film is premised on binaries. To tell or not to tell. Lobster or crab. Life or death. But as each character discovers, they reside in spaces that feel not quite right and not quite wrong. The Farewell meanders well, following the characters as they explore the mediums between the extremes. It is the static points where it struggles.

Billi, mainly drifts between the extremes of modernity and traditionally held values. It is also a question of how others perceive her, a young Chinese American living alone in New York City, and how she sees herself, a struggling writer searching for some of that childhood stability. She is, like many first-generation Americans, struggling to reconcile the alienation she feels from all sides. In herself, Billi embodies every influence throughout her life, from the gentle reproaches of Nai Nai and her parents, to the harsher financial admonishments of the American economy. The Farewell, then, is not only a film about moving in ambiguous places but also how those ambiguities can be incorporated within. The Farewell doesn’t much deal with resolute truths. It is more comfortable with lies and half-facts. We all are. And in death, as in life there really is no such thing as an absolute surety.

PREVIEW: The Farewell

Most secrets, we keep without a second of consideration. Instinctively, we slide away from the full truth, allowing for the slightest vagary to creep into our words. Secrets are a shield, but who are we protecting? The Farewell asks this question of Billi (Awkwafina) and her family as they confront the looming death of their matriarch, Nai Nai (Zhao Shuzhen). Nai Nai only has a few weeks to live and she is the only one who doesn’t know it. Billi’s parents, at least, think it is for the best, allowing Nai Nai to enjoy her last days without having to worry about the world she will soon be leaving behind. Secrets are a shield and The Farewell begins to ask what protection means to those of different cultural backgrounds even as they are part of the same family. The Farewell is a comedy-drama, currently showing at the State Theatre. Tickets can be bought online or at the box office ($8.50 with a student ID). Some showings feature Mandarin subtitles.

PREVIEW: Gala Mukomolova Poetry Reading and Book Signing

As I’m becoming more familiar and learning to recognize the intersecting pathways of my identity, I have learned to cultivate a deep appreciation for artists of different identities doing the same. Gala Mukomolova is one such artist who I believe may be able to shed light on the landscape of complex, often even opposing, experiences, and using art as a form of synthesis. From the few poems I have read, Mukomolova seems to have a rich sense of voice and a kaleidescopic, evocative representation of the world around her. I look forward to her reading on Thursday, September 5th at 5:30-7 pm in UMMA’s Helmut Sterne auditorium. A book signing will follow with book sales provided by Literati bookstore.

REVIEW: Six Senses of Buddhism

Like all special exhibits in UMMA, this exhibit is a very small exhibit, only taking up part of a hallway and consisting of a few art pieces. It is an interesting exhibit because it is about how Buddhist art and objects invoke our senses; smell, sight, feel (there are lots of things to touch in this exhibit), and most importantly mind (thought), our sixth sense. In fact, I have always thought of Meditation as a release from all six of our senses, we close our eyes, sit still, ideally only smelling one fragrant of incense, hearing only silence, and letting our mind relax, detached from any thought.

The main piece of this exhibit is a painting of a Buddha heaven. This painting is from Pure Land Buddhists, one of the biggest sects of Buddhism in China, and is of someone, probably a monk, being welcomed into heaven. I like that the heaven is on the clouds, it makes me think that heaven is always watching over us. In this painting figures with halos represent Bodhisattvas. Tea is an integral part of Buddhism, and so there were two tea bowls, one from China and one from Japan. The Chinese bowl is a lot older, but it looks more modern because it is symmetrical and completely smooth. The Japanese bowl, on the other hand, seems much more hand crafted,maybe even by an amateur, because it is rugged and asymmetrical. However, in Japanese art this is intentional because Japanese ceramic art considers asymmetry more beautiful and more impressionable.

The featured photo is of Bells and Vajra. This bell is very ornate, and was probably used to call monks to the meditation hall. You can touch a 3D printing of the bells at the exhibit. There are beautiful incense holders. Next to them are cards you can take that smell like clove incense. Incense is often used to keep track of time while meditating. When the incense burns out, you are done. No sporadically looking at a clock is necessary. The last piece in this exhibit is a Rakusu, which is the garment monks wear outside their robes. This Rakusu was pretty ornate and had designs, so it was probably of a monk that had a higher status. Monks like to make their own clothes, because it is a tradition from monks who were too poor to afford clothes and would patch together old rags.

The exhibit is small, but there is actually a lot of Buddhist artwork in the Asian Art gallery. If you can’t get enough from the exhibit you can see more paintings, actual scrolls, and shrines that were in temples in the gallery.

REVIEW: A/PIA Closing Ceremony

This April, the Asian-American Pacific Islander community held a closing ceremony gala— fancy dress and all— for the first time in many years. Taking place on the ground floor of the UMMA, it was an absolutely gorgeous way to end Heritage Month’s dedicated annual work.

Faculty, staff, and students gathered around tables with a fairy light centerpiece as they honored leaders in the A/PIA community. Multiple awards were given— from lifetime achievements to who had the best Instagram aesthetic— all voted on by students.

The group performances were also lovely. rXn was one of these groups– it is a Chinese Student Association multicultural dance group that performs both hip-hop and traditional Chinese dances. With grace and enthusiasm, they were a fantastic display to see during this celebration of cultural organizations.

Seoul Juice was also present. They are a cover band that mixes pop music with acoustic instruments in a mashup of Korean and American styles. “With this, Seoul Juice strives to celebrate Korean culture and have a good time united with other musicians,” their webpage states. They are affiliated with Michigan’s Korean Student Association.

My favorite performance was their cover of “Lost in Japan”, a newer Shawn Mendes song. The singers and musicians made the piece their own— a song already filled with enough finality and longing to make the seniors in the room a little teary-eyed. (My emotional impulses were already kind of high— I’m graduating, leave me alone.)

The entire evening reminded me of the hard work that organizations on campus put into their craft and their love for community building. I cannot wait to see this tradition continue in the future and I hope that everyone in the area can find a way to support student artists.

REVIEW: The Lute: Cai BoJie (Chinese Opera)

The grand finale of the Confucius Institute was the best show I have seen in all my four years at Michigan. I appreciate the Confucius Institute for making my experience at U of M much more cultural and special, and congratulate them on all their success on U of M’s campus.

Chinese operas are more comprehensive than western operas because of the emphasis on movement and acting in addition to music and singing. These actors train their whole lives to be able to express subtle but deep emotions in their movements. I love how precise the movements align with the percussion and cymbals. Even when the actors were not moving they would stand in a beautiful pose flaunting their hands by elegantly contorting their fingers. Some other major differences between Western and Chinese opera include: Chinese opera has limited facial and mouth movements when actors sing, most of the singing from both male and female characters is an extremely high pitched falsetto, and the most important part of the clothing/costume is the sleeves. The costumes are extravagant. Dainty, light, silky, colorful dresses and robes combined with beautiful makeup and jewelry lining their hair. The male characters all had a feminine look to them because of the intense makeup and lack of facial hair. Still, sleeves are the most characteristic part of their clothes because of how the actors use their sleeves. Sleeves usually covering their hands would fly inward and outward with precision and control. The actors would twirl the sleeves occasionally allowing a glance at their fingers.

The plot was extremely Chinese because it was all about filial piety. It was a depressing story about a failed son without a happy ending. Still, this play was surprisingly comical. Cai BoJie often had me laughing, especially when he interacted with Lady Niu. Besides the irony and intended comedy in their scene together, something about how respectful and orderly he was to Lady Niu was funny. Maybe it was the juxtaposition of his esteemed attitude and his melancholy feelings. Maybe it was how unnatural their relationship felt having to address each other as “honored lady/husband”. One thing for sure is that the movements in Chinese opera give a sense of comedy vacant in Western operas or American musicals because we don’t have to wait for a joke to laugh, the subtle movements of the actors do the work.

The acting of the characters was truly incredible. Cai Bojie did a great job acting sorrowful and regretful. No matter what he was doing he always seemed conflicted. The scene where he was on his knees mourning his parents death was riveting.  WuNiang was an incredible actress as well. Wuniang had a persistent look of worry the entire play. This showed the hardships she had been through and helped the audience understand the depth of her depression. The most comical character was the monk in the temple. He had a silly face and was constantly laughing. His singing sounded more like a fools chant than a monk reciting a prayer or sutra.  I am curious if this was a commentary on monks? The monk seemed to care more about sucking up to Cai Bojie than actually performing rituals. Seeking money and donation must be his first priority.

Music is a central component of the story. It is through music that characters displayed their true emotions. The most beautiful music was when WuNiang told her tale through the pipa. In fact, this play is named after the pipa, lute means pipa in English. My favorite sounds besides the instruments were when the actors would laugh or cry.

My favorite scene was scene 3. It was interesting that Lady Niu wanted to fervently punish Cai BaoJie when it was WuNiang who had to endure all the hardships because of Cai BaoJie. Yet, WuNiang didn’t want any vengeance on Cai BoJie and was willing to go back and mourn for another twelve years. The best part was when WuNiang revealed the name of Cai BoJie and she and Lady Niu simultaneously shrilled.  All of a sudden they started to mimic each other, even slouching in the same manner.

This was a once in a lifetime treat that I will never forget; being able to see a first-class Chinese opera, in the front row and with English subtitles.