Growing Up

'Growing Up', coming out of the context of the Taiwanese 'New Wave', was directed by Chen Kunhou (also spelled Chen Gwen-Ho), and was written by Hou Hsiao Hsien. This alone makes it worth tracking down for students or fans of Taiwanese film, and it does repay viewing, though in a typically Taiwanese understated manner, in which there is more going on under the surface than is immediately apparent.

The story focuses upon a boy called Xiao Bin, or Young Bin. The Chinese title of the film is indeed 'The Story of Xiao Bin', which casts light upon the beginning of the story, for the child, an illegitimate son, was initially Xiao Lin. He only became Xiao Lin when his mother entered a marriage of convenience with a mainlander who was much older than her, and all alone in Taiwan. Without overstating or overdetermining motives or reasoning, his life with his mother and new father is followed as he progresses through primary and high school. Along the way, there is the addition of younger brothers, truancy and assorted adolescent problems, young romance, and family problems. Continuity during gaps in the story is preserved by a woman narrator, who had appeared then as his classmate and neighbour.

Beneath this rather simple story there lie a number of questions regarding the psychology of the characters and the intricacies of their relationships. Occasional outbursts of anger, frustration and violence provide more obvious signposts into such motivations, but as in life itself, even oneself is often not entirely aware of the reasons for much of one's own actions. The audience is left to tease much of this out, and cast back onto their own insights into humanity. This vagueness may have been frustrating had the characters been flat and unconvincing, but they felt so entirely authentic that one could say that they were either superbly acted, or that they were not acted at all, that they were indeed who they were, without the involvement of artistry.

Coming out of the context of the Taiwanese New Wave, this film is located in a specific place and time, touching upon issues pertinent to the context, for instance, the relationship between Mainlanders and Native Taiwanese, as encapsulated by the marriage of convenience. American music is also present, though not to the same extent as in 'A Brighter Summer's Day', by Edward Yang. But like the motivations and attitudes of the characters themselves, these are present as nuances and subsurface details rather than as topics for didactic exposition.

Wonderfully understated, superbly acted and a pristine example of directorial restraint, I would not hesitate to recommend this work to anyone interested in Taiwanese film, and even to those who are unfamiliar with it. The involvement of Hou Hsiao Hsien makes it of immediate interest to his legion of fans. On the other hand, it would be quite accessible to those viewers unfamiliar with the details of Taiwanese history and merely looking for a human-interest story. It is entertaining, often humorous, and moving. In sum, 'Growing Up' is well worth seeing.

Today's July 25th, and it's Chen Kun-Hou's birthday! That makes it the perfect moment to rewind and give some love to his first movie, "Growing Up." It's this chill, understated coming-of-age flick from Taiwan's New Wave days that has its heart in all the right formative places. Compared to later New Wave classics, this one's rougher around the edges and doesn't get nearly as much love, but that's part of its charm.

Fun fact: Chen started as a cinematographer, and "Growing Up" was his first feature, co-written by none other than Hou Hsiao-Hsien. You can already spot hints of Hou's later style here-that poetic realism that would come to define Taiwanese cinema. Then there's the soundtrack by Mandopop legend Li Zongsheng, which just wraps around the story like a quiet tender sigh. Oh, and that little nod to Christie's yellow river in there. So good.

The film unfolds through this beautiful third-person perspective, often seen through the eyes of a neighborhood girl watching from the sidelines. At its heart is Xiao Bi, a kid caught between a depressed mom and a kind but weary stepdad, Mr. Bi. Their home life runs on silent love wrapped in discipline, care tangled with distance. The mom's strictness isn't just about control; it's guilt, shame, and the weight of raising a son from a failed past. Meanwhile, Mr. Bi-what a standout character-tries his best, benevolent yet sometimes at a loss. His quiet advice and small acts of care make him unforgettable. And Xiao Bi? He's just trying to navigate it all through youthful missteps: stealing lunchboxes, skipping school, smoking, getting into fights. It's messy, real, never overdramatized.

What makes "Growing Up" special is how it balances warmth and sadness. The kids act like real kids, doing exactly what you'd expect from a Taiwanese New Wave film. Meanwhile, the adults grapple with their own failures. Mr. Bi's quiet sacrifices and the mother's unspoken guilt, set against the simple, everyday rhythms of life in a military village, bravely peer into the sometimes-awkward dance of love and strictness, affection and distance, often seen in Asian films. Chen's direction, borrowing Ozu's patience and Hou's eye for everyday beauty, lets the story breathe naturally. It's less a film and more like remembering someone else's childhood.

In closing, while "Growing Up" might not always get the spotlight like other New Wave classics, it absolutely deserves its place in the movement's history. Here's hoping more people discover it. Happy birthday, Chen Kun-Hou-thanks for this little treasure.