Short of the Week

Play
Drama Chun-Yi Li

Sea Breeze

A middle-aged Taiwanese shopkeeper and a Filipino migrant worker form an unlikely bond in Taipei.

Play
Drama Chun-Yi Li

Sea Breeze

A middle-aged Taiwanese shopkeeper and a Filipino migrant worker form an unlikely bond in Taipei.

Sea Breeze

Directed By Chun-Yi Li
Produced By London Film School
Made In Taiwan

At Short of the Week, we’ve monikered ourselves as a “different kind of film festival.” To read between the lines a bit, that essentially means we tend to balk at more conventional festival fare. After all, 30 minute long prestige dramas aren’t exactly the sort of things that rack up views online. But, every once and awhile, a film comes along that is so touching and well-crafted that we sort of just throw up our hands, toss conventional wisdom to the wind, and feature it anyway. Short attention spans be damned, we heartily recommend this #longshort from writer/director Chun-Yi Li.

As my lengthy preamble suggests, Sea Breeze is clearly more of a “festival film”: a long and slowly paced, character-driven piece about two very different people who find comfort in one another. Granted, although it’s a meditative film, it’s never boring. Li skillfully carries the viewer along, subtly building up the relationship to a point where the conclusion feels quite emotionally affecting. As long as you are willing to commit to the film (i.e. close twitter, log off Facebook), I guarantee you will be rewarded.

The idea of two strangers meeting and forming an “unlikely friendship” has shades of Lost in Translation. It’s an easy comparison to be sure, but Li flips the script a bit. Here, it’s a middle-aged woman who forms a connection with a young male Filipino migrant worker. This isn’t a plot heavy film, but it is a character heavy one. It’s exploring loneliness—this idea that sometimes it’s easiest to connect with those most foreign to you. And, yet, despite the power of that connection, how quickly it can all fade away.

The film is deceptively simple in its construction. Scenes are often conveyed purely in single, long-take masters. In a world where camera movement is easier than ever—from sliders to gimbals to drones—Li’s film is powerful because it has the courage to hold still. It’s patient, yes, but undeniable effecting—a Sophia Coppola-esque meditation on how small epochs of interaction can be the most rewarding. We rarely see the story of middle-aged women on screen (especially non-white middle-aged women). So, Li’s film feels both unique and familiar at the same time.

Originally planned as a three part trilogy (Li wanted to explore the story of Carlo, the migrant worker, in more detail as well as construct a narrative about the protagonist’s son in the UK), eventually, the film was reduced to its current form. Li was lucky enough to cast Li-Yin Yang in the lead role. Ms. Yang is a veteran actor from Taiwan and is somewhat of a household name in her native country. For Carlo, he cast a local actor with minimal experience. The resulting behind the scenes relationship dynamic ends up reflecting the fictional one on screen—two people with different backgrounds and experience coming together to form a bond.

Making subtle character moments interesting on screen is damn hard. Li really captures something quite lovely with this film. It feels culturally authentic and emotionally resonate. It’s a film that makes it seem that, in spite of the hazy fog of loneliness, a welcome breeze from another island just may be offshore, waiting to offer a brief respite of the otherwise stifling heat.