"2020 In Film: Vietnamese Cinema" (Part 2/3)

Fun fact: Since this blog’s inception in 2012/2013, I have not written once about Vietnamese cinema.

That's 9 years and nearly 70 posts, without a single recognition of my home country’s theatrical experience. It’s literally in the name: Hollywood Moviegoers.

I really should get a better name, and a graphic designer while I’m at it too.

I have always been skeptical of Vietnamese cinema growing up during the 2000s and early 2010s. Maybe it was an aversion to hearing Southern accents, maybe it was my primitive understanding of why the Vietnamese language translates so weirdly to screen, but it mainly boiled down to general distaste: I had grown accustomed to Hollywood-standard productions, visual effects, language and culture, that seeing a Vietnamese film in theaters simply felt off.

But in recent years (6 to be exact), something has changed, either in my own growth, or in the film industry.

The Vietnamese market is not that far removed from your slapstick horror-comedies, your half-hearted Hollywood rip-offs, or just genuinely horrible films: we still get a “Cậu Vàng” or a “Kiều” from time to time.

But filmmaking in Vietnam has turned into a viable, serious profession, at least better than what it was in the past: better production values, better creative vision, better (or more natural) dialogue, and a much more ambitious mindset than simply catering to the most common denominator.

So in the second “2020 in Film”, I’ll be writing about Vietnamese Cinema in general, not just about ones produced in 2020. Why is it “2020 in Film” then? Because in 2020/2021, I have watched many Vietnamese films: not enough to judge any of the films below, but just enough to hate myself (Insert “Cậu Vàng” and “Kiều” jokes here). It was either due to a sudden flood of patriotism during the lockdown, or a general lack of films: I was more ready to see an average Vietnamese film than a bad foreign/American one.

With the help of TPD Center for Youth Filmmaking’s magnificent library catalogue (Trung Tâm Hỗ Trợ Phát Triển Tài Năng Điện Ảnh TPD), I was able to access many (older) films deep within Vietnamese archives, ones which might not necessarily be found on online platforms, in addition to more recent successes.

And so without further ado, these are 8 Vietnamese films, and maybe 2 honorable mentions, that, in my opinion, have either had a lasting impression on me, or are just indicative of something thematically rich or creatively ambitious. Better yet, some films were all three of the above.

As per usual, the films will be accompanied by how I would recommend it to someone else, not the actual consensus of the film. There will also be a small synopsis, and a subsection called “Why This Film”, to explain why I chose that specific film.

Let’s dig in to “2020 in Film: Vietnamese Cinema” in no particular order. And yes, I’m cheating with my first choice(s) already.

“Mùi Đu Đủ Xanh” (“The Scent of Green Papaya”) (1993),

“Xích Lô” (“Cyclo”) (1995),

“Mùa Hè Chiều Thẳng Đứng" (“The Vertical Ray of The Sun”) (2000)

– Trần Anh Hùng’s “Vietnam Trilogy”: “The definitive, actual Vietnam Trilogy”

Oliver Stone has his own “Vietnam Trilogy” (Platoon, Born On The Fourth of July, Heaven and Earth), but to suggest it had anything to do with Vietnam’s side of the argument is fool’s gold, hence the consensus of “The definitive, actual Vietnam Trilogy”.

Synopsis: A trilogy only by thematic connections and aesthetics, “Mùi Đu Đủ Xanh”, “Xích Lô” and “Mùa Hè Chiều Thẳng Đứng” are three distinctly different stories about Vietnam, its people and their class struggles, their mundane life cycles, all starring the wickedly-talented Trần Nữ Yên Khê under the singular artistic vision of Trần Anh Hùng.

And yes, I count three of them as one entry. Sue me.

Runtime:

104 minutes (Mùi Đu Đủ Xanh)

123 minutes (Xích Lô)

112 minutes (Mùa Hè Chiều Thẳng Đứng)

Why These Films?: This is your Vietnamese cinema starter pack. If you like any one of these three films (and there’s a lot to like), proceed with this article. If you don’t, well, you’re 1/7 through it anyways so why not continue?

Tran Anh Hung’s unbelieveably excellent debut film about the life of Mùi, a servant girl in a rich Vietnamese household, Mùi Đu Đủ Xanh is the closest thing Vietnam has to perfection. In its simplest form, the film is a blossoming love story, but it is also a hyper-realistic look at Vietnamese multi-generational family relationships, the growing pains and confusion of womanhood, and a meditation on a distinctly Saigon sadness. Drenched in the vintage hue of the yellow sun and lensed with a nostalgic, sensual eye, the film is also light on dialogue and lack a “film-esque” plot, yet is so assured in its storytelling that you could not help but feel something indescribable when the credits roll: the scene with Mùi practicing handwriting under Khuyến’s tutelage reminded me of memories I never thought I had.

Fun fact: Despite the film’s Saigon setting, most of the actors spoke in Northern accents. That is because the film was actually shot in France, and the only actors available were all Northerners.

The “sequel”, Xích Lô, is commonly regarded as the “worst and most controversial” film of this “trilogy”, though to characterize it as such feels sensationalist: taken on its own merit, this is still one of Vietnam’s best films. Unlike Mùi Đu Đủ Xanh, which moves at a glacial pace to recall a normal life rather than tell it, Xích Lô is blunt to a fault, contains a clear 3-act story, and anchored around its offbeat characters and the symbolism of the titular transport. And that is not a bad thing: it marks an ambitious and brave departure for Trần Anh Hùng in terms of storytelling and style.

There’s something so inherently weird at Xích Lô’s core that made it both so divisive and so mesmerizing: while it is aesthetically reminiscent of Hùng’s debut, the explicit portrayals of violence, death and lust are indicative of the film’s poor working-class citizens, as well as their rough exterior struggles in comparison to their tortured interiors. The film’s ending remains the best of the trilogy, as everything seemingly returns to normal for the characters after all their unending hardships. The return was also to what Trần Anh Hùng knows best: a portrayal of life, rather a film.

Fun fact: Xích Lô won the Golden Lion at the Venice International Film Festival, but was banned from circulation in Vietnam, making physical copies of the film extremely rare and valuable.

The trilogy capper, Mùa Hè Chiều Thẳng Đứng returns to “basics”: a slow-burn, atmospheric walk of life that just so happens to be filmed. The most “ordinary” film of the three, Mùa Hè Chiều Thẳng Đứng basically has no true plot, bookended by certain events and pulled together with the central romance and the three sisters’ relationship. Many articles have likened the film’s narrative style to books by Haruki Murakami, made all the more prominent by Trần Anh Hùng’s later adaptation of “Norwegian Wood”, but personally I don’t think so: Trần Anh Hùng’s distinct taste for mundane yet provoking shot composition, coupled with an ardent belief to express everything as “cinema” and not words, is not comparable to any one artist. Until this day, I still don't understand what "The Vertical Ray of The Sun" means.

These three films were, for a lack of better term, the storytelling and aesthetic inspiration for many Vietnamese filmmakers today, and I highly urge you to seek them out and watch it on a rainy afternoon.

“Chơi Vơi” ("Adrift") (2009): “That was confusing, but it feels right.”

Synopsis: A loveless marriage between Duyên (Đỗ Thị Hải Yến) and Hải (Nguyễn Duy Khoa) is interrupted by Duyên’s secret admirer Cầm (Phạm Linh Đan) and a lustful relationship between Duyên and Thổ (Johnny Trí Nguyễn), opening uncertain avenues in Duyên’s life about love, lust and her own identity.

Runtime: 110 minutes

Why This Film?: It actually astounds me that this film was actually made during the 2000s in Vietnam, due to the heavy censorship against portrayals of sexual imagery and LGBTQ+ representation in mainstream Vietnamese films. I even remembered conversations from my surroundings regarding the film’s supposedly “offensive” subject matters and “repugnant” portrayal of intimacy, none of which were actually the purpose of the film.

Nonetheless, it was made, and 12 years later, here I am praising it.

However, to say that this is a mainstream film would be as false as can be. Taking inspiration from Taiwanese and French cinema, “Chơi Vơi”, or “Adrift” and “Vertiges”, is masterfully subtle and tastefully directed, despite its predominant themes of sexuality and identity. The dialogue and character interactions feel almost rehearsed, but still retains a sense of authenticity, shot in such a way that we as the audience feel like intruders into this Southeast Asian household and, by extension, Duyên’s inner conflict of homosexuality and lust.

The performances are second to none; the supposedly heavy-handed themes are delicately handled and expressed through long takes and beautiful shot compositions (so much so that I felt there was always a frame within a frame, adding to the feeling of intrusion); and for citizens of Hanoi who lived through the 2008 flood, there is also an added sense of nostalgia seeing the flooded streets of Hanoi on the big screen. Chơi Vơi stayed with me long after I had seen it a few years ago; even now I still think about how horrible it could have turned out under other filmmakers, but became something extraordinary under Bùi Thạc Chuyên’s vision and Phan Đăng Di’s screenplay.

“Tôi Thấy Hoa Vàng Trên Cỏ Xanh” (“Yellow Flowers on The Green Grass”) (2015): “My first Vietnamese film in cinemas”.

Sypnosis: The childhood memories of Thiều (Thịnh Vinh), his little brother Tường (Trọng Khang) and their best friend Mận (Lâm Thanh Mỹ) in the rural plains of Vietnam.

Runtime: 92 minutes

Why This Film?: How’s this for a segue?

I remember the hype surrounding this film in my secondary school years: everyone was talking about the film, how beautifully shot it was, and how it marked “a new chapter” for Vietnam’s film industry. “Vietnam’s first film adaptation” was the general consensus, which wasn’t true…to some extent.

Tôi Thấy Hoa Vàng Trên Cỏ Xanh was Vietnam’s first mainstream film adaptation, from the book of the same name by Nguyễn Nhật Ánh, a beloved writer amongst the kid-teen crowds. I was surprised it took until 2015 for one of his books to hit the screen: he had been churning out movie-material books for nearly 30 years by that point, and his cross-generation appeal is undeniable (90s kids grew up with “Kính Vạn Hoa”, millenials had “Cho Tôi Một Vé Đi Tuổi Thơ”, and classics like “Mắt Biếc”, “Còn Chút Gì Để Nhớ” and “Ngồi Khóc Trên Cây” are fondly remembered).

The film itself is aggressively watchable: for all of its awe-inspiring cinematography, stellar performances and sure-handed direction, it is also light on plot (not the good “light”), irredeemably melodramatic, and overstays its admittedly slim 92-minute runtime. Nevertheless, it was the first Vietnamese film I was actually excited about watching in theaters, and the experience is still fondly ingrained in the back of my mind. It sparked a literary-adaptation frenzy, with other Nguyễn Nhật Ánh books being adapted (the underrated “Cô Gái Đến Từ Hôm Qua” and the crowdpleasing but convoluted “Mắt Biếc) alongside literary classics, namely masterpieces like “Cậu Vàng” and “Kiều”.

“Ròm” (2020): “Of course Ròm is gonna be here.”

A highly recommended featurette

Synopsis: The story about the titular orphan (Trần Anh Khoa) who runs lottery tickets for a torn-down neighborhood to find his parents. A rival lottery runner, Phuc (Nguyễn Phan Anh Tú), has different plans.

Runtime: 79 minutes.

Why This Film?: Just because I included Ròm in the first part, doesn’t mean I can’t include it here.

Ròm is…different. There’s not a single Vietnamese film like it, from a production, publicity and quality perspective. 8 years was how long it took Ròm to get to theaters: from its inception as an award-winning short film in 2013, to a grueling three-month shoot and year-long editing process with endless financial difficulties. From its triumphant win at Busan International Film Festival and subsequent controversies with Vietnamese authorities regarding the film’s legal process, to its eventual victory in securing a wide release. The final hurdle of two delays in the face of Covid-19 was the cherry on top of the sundae that was Ròm’s incredible journey to theatres, and I’m glad I finally get to write about it.

I failed to mention this in my last post, but there is a certain electricity from the film’s relentless chase sequences, made all the more astounding by on-location shoots, dizzying cinematography and committed performances.

And Wowy, cause it’s Wowy.

Again, it’s far from a perfect film, and the ending leaves audiences with more head scratches than awe, but I am in utter admiration of the talent and effort put into the film, every ounce of which showed on screen.

It was simply the little indie film that could.

“Chị Dậu” (1981): “Why were Vietnamese films so good?”

Synopsis: Ngô Tất Tố’s “Tắt Đèn” is brought to screen in black-and-white, shot on film.

Runtime: 80 minutes

Why this film?: When I first watched this film, which was very recently, something nostalgic in me came about. From the first scene with the black and white credits, overly dramatic music, and slow camera pan through our opening setting, I was blasted back to my childhood. It was when my family had a DVD player, and on top of the Panasonic steel box were physical disks and cover arts of films such as “Cánh Đồng Hoang” and “Em Bé Hà Nội” alongside bootleg copies of “Spider-Man 2” and “Toy Story 1”. As a child, I heard how my parents praised Vietnamese “oldies” films (or “Phim nhựa” in Vietnamese), made by artists and/or lovers of art with their own hearts and pocket money. But alas, I didn’t learn to appreciate it: I was more interested in your boom boom kachow Hollywood productions.

How did a film remind of me of memories I didn’t know I have?

If you read the original novel, you know the gist of the film. “Tắt Đèn”, or specifically its excerpt “Tức Nước Vỡ Bờ”, is a mainstay in any Vietnamese with access to secondary education: we all remember how our main heroine stood up to the guards and subtextually exposed the rotten core of feudal society, how she had to sell her child and was representative of impoverished citizens’ struggles, and how it is endlessly regarded as a landmark in Vietnamese literature. I had only bought the full novel a week ago, which ran at a slim 170 pages and was finished in one brief sitting.

But I understood why the book remained such a prominent part in Vietnamese culture, and why Chị Dậu has always been the definitive adaptation of the story. In the days when people didn’t have enough money to buy a TV, much less make an actual film, Chị Dậu was more than just a product of entertainment: it was a labor of love, by the people and for the people, and carried the added weight of honoring Ngô Tất Tố’s legacy. You can see other prominent Vietnamese writers in Nguyễn Tuân and Kim Lân playing supporting roles in the film; that was how much Ngô Tất Tố meant to them. There’s a raw, beating heart and an absolute sense of desperation in this 1981 adaptation that won’t be present in any profit-driven modern adaptation, and to me, that’s okay.

Again, I probably messed up my words trying to express how beautifully impactful this film was, and I’m just glad I still have the chance to see it in its entirety.

“Trạng Tí” (2021): “It’s the boom boom kachow but characters speak Vietnamese”

Synopsis: Tí (Hữu Khang), Sửu (Bảo Tiên), Dần (Hoàng Long), Mão (Trần Đức Anh) embark on an adventure to find out who Ti’s father is.

Runtime: 110 minutes

Why This Film?: “SEEDERRRRRRRRRRR”

Alright, with that out of the way, can we get to the film’s actual quality?

“Blockbuster”. That is why this film is on here.

Hollywood is the supposed “endgame” of many film industries in the world, if not artistically than it would be in terms of budget, accessibility and ambition. And blockbuster films are prime reasons why Hollywood is regarded as such: there is a certain crowdpleasing, all-audience quality to the swashbuckling adventures of Indiana Jones, Harry Potter and basically any Steven Spielberg films.

And so, as purely someone who enjoys films, and more specifically one who grew up with these blockbusters, why wouldn’t I enjoy a high budget Vietnamese adventure?

Trạng Tí is one of the best Vietnamese blockbuster: the story is a well-realized 3-act screenwriting lesson, the performances are excellent for child actors, and it deftly balances between drama, fantasy and laugh-out-loud comedy. It's, for all intents and purposes, an entertaining, well-made film.

Admittedly, the humor doesn’t always land as intended, the VFX team bites off a bit more than it can chew, particularly with the already meme-able buffalo scene, and the target audience is obviously skewed towards the under 18 demographic, which can be a doubled-edged sword.

But before there can be quantifiable success, there is always a pioneer, and I fully believe that after Trạng Tí’s toe-dip into untreaded waters, there will be blockbuster cannonballs to follow in the future, and I have nothing but admiration for that ambition.

“Song Lang” (2018): “This was legitimately great.”

Synopsis: Debt collector Dũng (Liên Bỉnh Phát) and “cải lương” singer Linh Phụng (Isaac) bond after an unlikely encounter, before something more starts to develop.

Runtime: 101 minutes

Why This Film?: Song Lang literally translates to “Two Men”, and that’s basically your film.

I didn’t like Song Lang the first time I watched it in 2018. For someone uninitiated with “cải lương” (Vietnamese folk opera), I felt an uneasiness walking into Song Lang: Am I the target audience for this film? If it didn’t work for me, was it because I failed to appreciate the music and its expression of identity?

But I always felt attracted to the film. For months afterwards, I would sometimes think of Song Lang, and feel urged to revisit it: there was something left in the film for me to explore, having understood that it was very reminiscent of a cải lương fable about star-crossed lovers. When I did get to see Song Lang again, this time in the much more intimate space of TPD, I noticed something: even though the audience gets the blossoming, unspoken attraction between Dũng and Phụng, they never interact physically bar one scene. And it hit me: taking course over the span of one day, Song Lang was not meant to be a love story, but an exploration of restrained emotions and the dejected feelings of forbidden youth, hidden behind a loving prose to “cải lương” and stage performances. The sadness you feel by the end of the film is not the main character’s: it is your emotional reaction to your own inner feelings of rejection, obsession and, indeed, love.

Linh Phụng perfectly expressed this sentiment in the film’s best scene on a rooftop overlooking 1980s Saigon:

“Bố mẹ tôi cấm ghê lắm. Nhưng càng cấm thì tôi càng mê. Cuối cùng mê quá thấy cấm không nổi, nên [bố mẹ] cho tôi theo đoàn hát luôn.” (“They tried to forbid me. But the more they tried, the more I was obsessed. Finally, seeing how passionate I was, they gave up and let me do it”)

Isaac, most prominently known as the frontman of 365daband, gave a ball-busting (no pun intended), courageous yet impressively reserved performance as Linh Phụng, having trained for months to sing cải lương, in tandem with Liên Bỉnh Phát’s more explosive Dũng. The film is nostalgically gorgeous to look at, the dialogue feels carefully understated as with the main characters’ affections, and it is one of the few original, modern Vietnamese films that had a lasting impression, or lingering sadness, on me. A definite must-watch available on Netflix right now.

“Dòng Máu Anh Hùng”(”The Rebel”) (2007): “An absolute classic”

Synopsis: A historical epic set in 1920s Vietnam about Cường (Johnny Trí Nguyễn), a spy working within the French network, and Thúy (Ngô Thanh Vân), a revolution leader’s daughter.

Runtime: 103 minutes

Why This Film?:

Because it was my first Vietnamese film, and it was incomparably, unequivocally awesome.

Starring two of Vietnam’s hottest household names and given the biggest Vietnamese budget at the time ($1.5 million dollars), Dòng Máu Anh Hùng is a flawed but bracingly sprawling epic that was simply too ambitious for its own good. The beautiful fight choreography, immaculate production design, committed physical performances and a fast-paced (though admittedly unfocused) plot all contribute to a very Hollywood-esque watching experinece, but one also steeped in Vietnamese sensibilities and perspectives. Charlie Nguyễn proves that he has so much more to offer than just comedy-dramas, and the sheer scope of the project for a somewhat foreign industry at the time is worth a watch on its own.

The film didn’t make its money back, and even resulted in bankruptcy and foreclosure for the film’s main producer Chánh Tín, but it was a landmark for the new wave of Vietnamese cinema, and was indicative of Vietnam’s potential as an international market under the right guidance.

Honorable Mentions:

“Bi, Đừng Sợ” (2010): “Love-it-or-hate-it.”

Synopsis: The world and a 3-generation family is examined from the perspective of the titular 6 year-old boy.

Runtime: 91 minutes

Why This Film?: I am working very vague memories, so bare with me.

My first impression of this film was watching it on DVD, and until this day, it still haunts my 9 year-old self, but I haven’t decided whether the impression was good or bad.

There is a mean streak and a sense of perversion that runs through the film. Although I found merit through Bi’s outlook of his family, there were so many underdeveloped storylines, unlikeable characters and a sense of “nothing” after the final fade to black. Phan Đăng Di might have succeeded with this style of screenwriting before, but I personally found that it needed a few more years before he could assuredly direct such a feature (the excellent “Cha và Con và…” in 2014). With this film, I felt nothing but a sense of distaste afterwards, and I haven’t put a second thought to it until this moment of writing. What if I were to rewatch it now? Would 10 more years of perspective help?

I doubt that I would be able to form a consensus on this film: Cathy Caruth did say trauma has to be addressed in its entirety to be absolved. Without the chance to rewatch it, that seems like an impossibility.

“Bố Già” (2021): *sighs*

Synopsis: The colorful daily stories of father Sang’s (Trấn Thành) family inside an alleyway in Saigon.

Runtime: 128 minutes

Why This Film?: This is it, the coup de grace of this post on Vietnamese cinema. The highest grossing Vietnamese movie of all time. Beloved by many.

So why do I not like this film?

I jump back and forth on this movie every other week: some days I’ll wake up thinking “Wow, Bố Già was pretty good”, and other mornings I’ll think “What was that film?”. Right now, I’m leaning towards the latter, with the benefit of time and hindsight: I believe “Bố Già” is an accomplished product, but to say that it is a great film is too much of a stretch.

The film works like a stageplay, and one with as much subtlety as a sledgehammer at that. The performances are frequently amazing (specifically from Trần Thành, Tuấn Trần and Ngân Chi, who undoubtedly stole the film), but are also deeply manipulative: the characters don’t need to cry to cue the audience’s waterworks. The film is professionally shot, produced and edited with flair and an astronomical amount of effort, but drags its runtime to oblivion in its effort to tell what is essentially 90-minute film. It is so distinctly Vietnamese with its family ideology, themes of blood bond and fatherly love, but feels alien to actual Vietnamese people.

The only thing I remember about the film, and maybe the best way to describe its imbalance, was this amazing fight between Trấn Thành and Tuấn Trần on a crucial decision late in the film, but one that also ended with the line: “Đù má, tao thương mày mà”. It’s this unwillingness to trust its audience that dragged Bố Già down from emotional resonance and potential greatness: nothing is open for interpretation, because everything has already been shown and spoken on screen. That's not cinema; that's propaganda.

But the achievement still stands. Bố Già is, and will be for a long time, the highest grossing Vietnamese film in history, and I have nothing but respect for that. It found an audience, and it’s just unfortunate that I wasn’t among them.

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And so, 4300 words later, we have come to the end of the second part of “2020 In Film: A Recap”.

I am glad that I have finished a long-overdue piece on Vietnamese cinema. The domestic film industry is a fair few years/decades away from being seriously considered as a financially and artistically viable international market, but I would be optimistic to think that with the new crop of talented artists and visionaries, we’re certainly on our way there.

I would say that I am mightily drained from the process, but I am having a lot of fun with this. I hope you’ll find some hidden gems along the way, and remember to stay tuned for next week’s final entry.

To quote any of the ceremony’s hosts, “It’s the Oscars”.