"A Brighter Summer Day": The Most Perfect Movie in My Heart

Last night, I rewatched "A Brighter Summer Day" for the third time, a nearly four-hour-long film that I find almost unbearably heavy in its portrayal of life. Simply put, every time I insert this DVD, I feel an extraordinary solemnity, as if I'm not just watching a movie but attending a serious seminar.

If I had to choose my favorite director, without a doubt, it would be Edward Yang. I have seen seven of his eight and a half works, and I love each one. He holds an unshakable position in my heart, forever number one.

When the movie ended, I paid special attention to the credits, recognizing many now-familiar names. Back then, they were just a group of passionate youths, like Yang himself. Even Tsai Chin played a minor role—Wang's wife, without a single line of dialogue, only seen in a cheongsam's silhouette. There was a scene of her changing shoes at the door while visiting Zhang's house with her husband. Chang Chen and his father Chang Kuo-Chu played a father-son duo, even using their real names. Lai Fan-Yun, the daughter of Lai Sheng-Chuan, played the younger sister, Zhang Yun in the drama. Xiao Ai, from the Taiwanese version of "This Night, Women Doing Stand-up," played the ice cream shop owner, young and beautiful at that time.

Watching the movie again, I reorganized the plot and deepened my understanding, and my admiration grew even more. Yang spent three and a half hours looking back and paying tribute to youth, intricately analyzing the disillusionment process of adolescents with the world.

This movie is perfect in my eyes, beyond reproach. It's richly layered yet never feels too long. The first time I watched it, I found it a bit dull, but learning more about Taiwan's history during that period deepened my emotional connection. My boss's boss, whenever he goes to karaoke, always chooses very old American songs to sing. Judging by his age, he must have been about the same age as Elvis Presley in the sixties and likely experienced that same dreadful and oppressive era.

On one hand, Edward Yang, based in that era, used a real case to create a film that's authentic and credible. Jiang Wen's "In the Heat of the Sun" achieved this too; on the other hand, Yang transcends time through his story, giving these kids predestined, vivid characters and fates determined by their personalities. By exploring the fates of different individuals, he reflects a beam of bright summer sunlight—the ideal light of human nature.

Honey, Xiao Si, and later Xiao Ma, share a stubborn adherence to truth and justice. After returning from Tainan, Honey spoke in dismay and anger: "I was in the south for half a year, and everyone here is busy making money now." He talked to Xiao Si about reading countless martial arts novels, remembering none except "War and Peace." "There's a guy named Pierre in it, the whole city's in turmoil, and he alone with a knife goes to stop Napoleon." As a gang leader, he expressed helplessness and a hint of revolutionary passion. He could be the leader because even among kids, truth and justice were fundamental. When he returned, the gangs were busy making money, and someone as cowardly as Huatou, who bullied the weak and feared the strong, surprisingly had followers. Honey already faintly felt that his era had passed. He went to meet Shandong at the Memorial Hall; they walked on a dark asphalt road, military vehicles roaring past. Honey said: "I'm only afraid of two kinds of people, those who are fearless and those who are shameless. Which one are you? You're not the fearless kind, right?" Shandong, grim-faced, silent, chose his moment to push Honey towards an oncoming car.

Times really changed, but Xiao Si's character didn't.

The first time he was punished for Huatou copying his paper, his father loudly reprimanded the teachers at the school office: "We entrust our children to you, how can you treat them like this?" Despite his father's assertive character and unwavering adherence to inner justice principles leading to a major demerit for Xiao Si, he was happy. On the way home, this silent father-son duo had a rare heart-to-heart. His father even happily spoke Cantonese (he had gone from Guangdong to Shanghai for university and then fled to Taiwan from Shanghai).

Back home, he confidently explained to his wife: "It's at times like these we need to set an example for our children, to show them what's right and what's wrong." Every time I see this scene, I'm filled with passion. This is what it means to be a parent, teaching by words and example.

Later, under the same circumstances, his father lost his edge, humbly flattering the head teacher. Xiao Si couldn't bear it and smashed the lights with a baseball bat. The entire office was stunned. The same road, the same silent father and son, but his father no longer had the passion and vigor, while Xiao Si grew more sensible. Until his death, he stayed true to his principles, saying to Xiao Ming during the stabbing: "You can't be looked down upon like this!"

Xiao Ma, though relying on his father's influence, shared the same principles as Honey and Xiao Si, except in his treatment of women. That's why he eventually broke down in the police station, crying: "Xiao Si was my only good friend."

These three idealistic youths met similarly tragic fates. One was treacherously plotted against, one couldn't fight the world and headed towards self-destruction, and the other faced eternal guilt.

The others, with their blurred, vulgar faces, continued living normal lives—the so-called ability to bend and stretch.

Besides the three boys, the richest character was Xiao Ming. This is why I'm willing to watch it over and over. Her character was the most successfully portrayed. She relied on different gang leaders in succession, eventually grasping the full picture of society. She was the most precocious girl, so much so that when she told the young doctor, "Don't marry her, she's not right for you," it didn't seem out of place. She liked Honey, liked Xiao Si; she loved the idealistic glow they possessed, unlike the other kids. But she had no choice, no right to love; everything she did was for survival. Choosing the same approach (frequently changing boyfriends) as Xiao Cui was different. Xiao Cui was happy because she loved no one; she was just looking for fun. Xiao Si didn't understand Xiao Ming, just as he lacked a complete understanding of society. He only saw the surface. Xiao Ming's frequent boyfriend changes, in his view, were contemptible and despicable.

He couldn't change; after his father's image collapsed, he didn't listen to his sister or heed the pastor's advice. What followed was the disillusionment of love and friendship—father, friends, girls, the pillars of a teenage boy's life. Men first believe they can judge and change the world, then believe they can judge and change women.

Now, everything has collapsed. He can't change the world or women. He can't foresee the future, lacks the patience and perseverance to endure, only capable of self-destruction or living like a dog among humans—now you understand the ending line of "A Chinese Odyssey": "He's like a dog."

The film's content and conveyed spirit blend perfectly, a common trait of all great art.

The mix of accents, the teachers and officers at school, the local girl selling red bean ice, in the backdrop of the "Youth Murder Incident," both adults and children suffered and struggled through societal upheavals. The background of the White Terror era loomed subtly.