Hái-kak chhit-ho

Wow! I just finished seeing this with a group of friends and everybody in the cinema seemed to truly enjoy themselves.

Filmed in Taiwan with a Taiwanese director and mostly local actors, this timeless plot features a small town that must come up with a band comprised of local musicians that will be the opening act for a big beach concert starring a big Japanese star. Will the beautiful Japanese concert coordinator fall for the local boy that has left a musical career in Taipei to return home to become a mailman? Can a band with a 10-year-old keyboardist, a 70-year-old bassist, and various other misfits help put Hengchun on the map?

This may strike some as a Taiwanese version of "The Commitments"/"School of Rock" and, yes, there are a few saccharine moments. Yet, director Wei Te-sheng, a former assistant director under the legendary Edward Yang (director of one of Taiwan's all-time best films, "Yi Yi," IMHO), skillfully pulls everything off without a hitch. Recommended to movie lovers of all ages!

I live in Taiwan and saw this with English subtitles at my local cinema in Tainan. It's not a stunning movie but it is very engaging and charming and best of all depicts many of the charming and engaging qualities of this country. The storyline follows two love affairs - one of 60 years earlier and the other unfolding in the present day. The acting is fine, the humor works well, it is well photographed and the music that pulls several of the subplots together lifts the already high mood and tone into a moving climax.

I'm glad I saw it and feel I know Taiwan a little better through watching this movie - and spent 2 very enjoyable hours doing so.

Based on the skimming of the synopsis alone, I thought Cape No. 7 bore some resemblance to an upcoming Japanese film The Shonen Merikensack which was featured in the recent Tokyo International Film Festival. Well, at least the characters have to come together to form a band, and are managed by a lady. And that this film had Japanese elements in it too. But this is a Taiwanese movie, and its success back at home, being its #1 film of all time, has undoubtedly raised the curiosity level as to what actually made this movie tick, so much so as to garner numerous nominations in this year's Golden Horse awards.

Being Taiwan's submission to next year's Academy Awards to compete in the Foreign- Language category, this film got no love by the distributors/censors here as it was deemed that the PG rating, with 2 badly butchered cuts for coarse language, overruled the NC16 version. Granted they would want this to be accessible by most, it was nonetheless badly edited, and the cuts were quite jarring to say the least. Though the word "kan" (F-word equivalent) was uttered loudly, it seemed to be OK and passed with no issues. Yes, it's in local dialect, and even for me, the Hokkien language used was unfamiliar, and I had to rely on the subtitles to understand the meaning of what was said by various characters from time to time.

There are two stories here in Cape No.7. One involves a case of forbidden love between a Japanese man and a Taiwanese woman, and his forced separation to return to Japan. On the sea journey, he confesses his love through 7 letters (hence the title) which he never found the courage to deliver them, and had them locked away, both the letters, and emotionally his heart. It was until his demise that his daughter discovered the truth, and decided to mail them back to the known address, which of course since WWII, no longer exists.

So the letters get into the hands of main protagonist Aga (Van Fan), who was a rock band singer in Taipei who failed to make good, and returned to his village of Hangchun to become a part time postman. Not knowing where to send those letters to, he eventually brings them back (with stacks of other letters due to his nonchalant work attitude), and got to read the big romantic story contained within. Meanwhile, he has to juggle with a band put together by the Mayor/Representative of the town, as well as Tomoko (Tanaka Chie) who is the local coordinator for a big Japanese singer coming to Hengchun, and the motley band is to be the opening act.

I didn't find much to celebrate in the romantic story as told from within those letters, ala The Notebook style. For some reason it failed to move me, and I can't see past the clichés within, though it got framed from within very luscious cinematography. However, it served as an ample backdrop on which to evaluate the relationship between Van and Tomoko, now being a Taiwanese man and a Japanese woman, the former a struggling musician, while the latter, after her Taiwan stint, has a cushy job waiting for her back in Japan. Given that they started off as loggerheads and slowly developing a liking for each other, it doesn't take rocket science to figure out what will happen eventually.

But the crux of the movie rested on the shoulders of a typical Japanese Zero-To-Hero formula, and here we have a bunch of misfits who can't play together, being forced to team up. Each comes with emotional baggage and plenty of background pathos, and here's where the strength of the movie resided in, as written and directed by Wei Te-Sheng, They are all likable characters, even though they are, like everyone else, flawed to begin with, which makes them easy to identify, and sympathize with.

We have the drummer Frog (Ying Wei-min) who is a mechanic, and harbours an unrequited love for his boss' buxomy wife, Rauma (Min-Hsiung) an ex-SWAT Taipei cop now being demoted to a traffic cop in a small town because of his ill-temper, Malasun (Ma Nien-hsien) who started off as a street smart rice wine salesman before being recruited as bassist, a ten year old keyboardist in Dada (Joanne) who has been kicked out from providing her service in church because of her failure to conform to playing for a (boring) congregation, and last but not least, an elderly "Gem" of the town Old Mao (Johnny Lin) who struggles to keep up with the rest, and having to insist that he gets to play a part in their performance. In fact, Johnny Lin steals almost every scene with his fast talking uncouth mouth, that you just wait look forward to each of his screen appearances, and anticipate with glee when the punchline will be delivered.

It's a slice of life of a small Taiwanese town where everyone almost knows everyone else, and you can see how certain dynamics between the private and public sector comes into play. In its human story, the themes of love and cooperation, respect and understanding all come into play and get expressed, and it is unlikely anyone will not get swayed by the sincerity and small town charm it exudes throughout. And as for building up to the final act, it's something that doesn't disappoint, or find a need to summarize or opting for a cop out. It delivered where it mattered, and finished off very strongly.

Cape No 7 earns a "recommended" tag from me, and it's as feel good as you can get about a film and its wonderful themes. It's no wonder already why and how this film would make Taiwan, and of course the town of Hengchun, a tourist attraction already.

The title is what I believe after I saw this movie.

Cape No.7 is a great movie and a humble self-introduction of Taiwan. Few that live in mainland China know the real Taiwan. What are the people like? How is their life there? These questions are not merely out of our curiosity; it's more because we care.

Movie has always been a good way of knowing other peoples and cultures. I've always been wanting to know Taiwan through their movies, but the fact is movie industry of Taiwan hasn't been doing well for a long time. If you go to a DVD shop(not to mention cinema) and look for Taiwan movies, mostly, you'll find, or the owner will recommend to you stupid little romances with good-looking faces or extremely low-key boring meaningless experiments(usually in experiments' disguise making erotic stuff), but what we wanna see and the filmmakers in Taiwan should show us is a real Taiwan, a real life of the people. Unlike most other Taiwan movies you can easily find, Cape No.7 is not only a 100% percent authentic Taiwan movie, encouragingly, it's honest and humble too, in order that a real Taiwan will be demonstrated to everyone, including Taiwan natives.

And the effort paid off. We see the beauty of the island, and the beauty of its people. You may think of another movie that is like a place's self-introduction, The Barber of Siberia. Critics say Russia in The Barber of Siberia is not the real Russia, which is not that good in fact. You might feel Taiwan in Cape No.7 is not the real Taiwan either; you might think Taiwan could never be such a nice place. Truthfully, Taiwan has its good and bad things, if there is nothing good in Taiwan and the movie tells you it's good then that's called fake; if there are good things and people, and the movie shows the good to us, why should we say it's not real? There is a time to reveal bad and ugly and there is a time to show good and beauty. Same reasoning with The Barber of Siberia. At this moment, why don't we enjoy seeing a good, beautiful and true Taiwan and hope there are more and more movies like Cape No.7.

For those viewers who are rusty on their Taiwanese history, Cape No. 7 is a good time, a sweet if somewhat angsty love story, and an intriguing glimpse into the day-to-day life of a Taiwanese town. For those who do know something of Taiwan's history and present international deadlock, the film becomes a vocal assertion of selfhood.

The amorous tension in the film is between a local Taiwanese boy, Aga, and a Japanese model, Tomoko. Aga has returned home to his small seaside village moody and gruff after failing to make it as a musician in Taipei, while Tomoko, trying to organize a Japanese pop star's concert at a nearby resort, has been tasked with finding locals good enough to form the opening band. A sweet if somewhat skimmed-over subplot involves a failed romance set during the aftermath of Japan's occupation of Taiwan in World War II, in which a young Japanese teacher writes letters to his Taiwanese beloved as he sails home to Japan. Sixty years later, these letters now find their way into the hands of Aga and Tomoko, who determine to discover their owner.

Both love stories reflect aspects of Taiwan's relationship with Japan at different times in its history. The Japanese teacher deserted his Taiwanese beloved, much as the Japanese deserted Taiwan after the war, turning over the reigns of their repressive but adept rule to the even more iron-fisted Chiang Kai-shek. During colonization, Japanese cultural systems were forcibly enforced on the island; under Chiang's rule, Chinese culture was dominant. In both cases, local Taiwanese culture was considered second-best. The movie addresses these issues of abandonment and desire for equality. Aga yearns for recognition of his talent, which he finally gets when Tomoko confesses her love and when his music – specifically a traditional Taiwanese ballad - is embraced both by the local villagers and, more importantly, by the Japanese pop star, who says he "knows the song." By winning the love of Tomoko and the acknowledgement of the Japanese pop star, Aga – and Taiwan – claim equal footing at last.

The film can also be seen in light of Taiwan's current condition as a pariah in international relations. As a country formally recognized by only 23 states, most of them small islands in the Pacific, Taiwan has fought tooth and nail for just minimal acknowledgement from the world community. (This year's small victory as an observer in the World Health Assembly, which as part of the United Nations has traditionally refused to recognize Taiwan, is one such example.) Taiwan's lack of global recognition is due in a large part to the influence of China, which sees Taiwan as part of its territory. Tellingly, Cape No. 7 makes no mention of China or the Chinese influence on the island; most of the dialogue is in Taiwanese, Japanese, or Taiwan guoyu (Taiwanese Mandarin). Mandarin Chinese, the official language of China, becomes the compromise language between Tomoko and the Taiwanese villagers – she snaps at them, "I can't understand your Taiwanese accent!" and they make fun of her, saying, "Who can understand her Chinese?" Mandarin, although a necessary tool for communicating, is a foreign tongue for all of them, which illustrates the ambivalent position of China in the world of the film. In real life, ties between Taiwan and its Mainland neighbor have thawed rapidly; the two now permit direct flights, the first in sixty years, and economic relations grow closer with each dip of the stock market. China's marginalization in the film, however, consciously disregards that part of Taiwan's complicated present to explore other aspects of Taiwanese identity – perhaps a way of fighting back against the influence the PRC has increasingly tried to cast over the island.

Aside from being a love story that will appeal to the emotion-laden teenager in all of us, Cape No. 7 is a glimpse into an unvarnished, unapologetic Taiwan. From pompous local politics, to millet wine and karaoke, to betel nuts and motorcycle mail delivery, the film throws back the shutters on all aspects of a Taiwanese village. Many of the actors in this production are not professionals, and it is the honest, tattered-at-the-edges quality of the scenes that most transports the audience into the world of the film.

Cape No. 7 is the coming-of-age story of a nation. Shot on a shoestring and popularized by word of mouth, the film became one of the highest grossing ever to be shown in Taiwan, second only to Titanic. It is rare for Taiwanese films to receive much attention in the U.S., but as a confident self-introduction, Cape No. 7 has the potential to be the film that crosses the impasse. And now that Taiwan is coming into its own, hopefully this will be the first of many vibrant films to come out of this small but spirited country.