THE STORY – In 1988, smoke and dust covered the sky in Keelung Harbor. Lin Hsiao-lee grew up in confusion and longed to escape the darkness. It wasn’t until she met Li Lili, a fearless and free girl, that she saw the colors of the world for the first time.
THE CAST – Roy Chiu, 9m88 & Bai Xiao-Ying
THE TEAM – Shu Qi (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 125 Minutes
Sometimes, even the most troubling and disturbing experiences in our lives have a way of creating the most profound impacts. We look back at these moments with an inquisitive perspective, wondering how these events which inflicted pain and turmoil might have transformed our worldview on a foundational level. It’s often the basis for stories that want to look back on adolescence, already a challenging period full of change and evolution. Even the tiniest altercations can have huge consequences on a developing mind, and such effects are compounded with the more severe aggressions. “Girl” is a film that exists within this space, examining a troubled young life trying to wade through the turbulent waters in the eye of a violent storm. It’s occasionally engaging but lethargic in its familiar explorations.
Set within the Keelung Harbor in 1980s Taiwan, Hsiao-lee (Bai Xiao-Ying) is a young girl whose life is a series of challenges. Her home life is currently in shambles, under the constant abuse of her alcoholic father (Roy Chiu) who also finds it necessary to wreck the life of her mother played by Taiwanese singer 9m88. She does all she can in an effort to avoid the wrath of her father but little in her life offers solace from the pervasive sadness that follows her. That is until she crosses paths with Li-li (Lin Pin-Tung), a new student that takes an instant liking to our protagonist. She encourages Hsiao-lee to indulge in beauty products, clothing styles, and skipping school in an effort to find some kind of joy. The more she tries to seek out happiness, the more the darkness that surrounds her is apparent, as is her determination to conquer it.
Shu Qi makes her directorial debut here, and there are times in which she showcases an impressive eye behind the camera. Most of her compositions are built with an alternation of warm and cool tones that shift depending on the main character’s ever-evolving moods. Sometimes the imagery is too obvious, like connecting the father’s hold on the family to a spider devouring an insect in its web. But then there are fantastical sequences that imagine a hand reaching through a cloth sheet, the scraping sound piercing through and the steely grip thrusting outward. There is a proficiency in talent that is sadly drowned out by the dour and lethargic pacing. A contributing factor would be the erratic editing that constructs sequences in an often puzzling manner, with odd transitional beats or scenes that linger in one landscape for far too long.
Her screenplay is filled with a plethora of conventions that have been noted in similar narratives about disruptive young lives that exist within dysfunctional environments. Not too much is added to make this particular story feel unique or innovative. The scenes of violence being visited upon this unit by the father may vary in intensity, including a vicious rape he commits on the mother, but the intentionality is all the same: to showcase his brutality. Eventually, every scene that shows him drunkenly staggering into frame and starting a parade of insults grows repetitive and tiresome, despite the gravity of the context. It speaks to a storytelling that is lacking a specificity to make its characters and themes captivating, ultimately resulting in a tedious pace that never properly builds momentum.
For her part, Bai delivers a compelling performance at the center, and she is an endearing presence that creates a genuine emotional connection. You feel the anxiety and despair that surrounds her, and she embodies the role without ever feeling overshadowed by the onslaught of hardships. There’s a wonderful naturalism that comes across, and the moments of heartbreak she must convey are engrossing. She has excellent chemistry with Lin, who is full of life and charisma. But there’s also a darkness that remains under the surface, a facade of delight that is meant to mask a deeper sadness. This is also a trope seen before with similar characters, but her performance still showcases this aspect effectively. Chiu brings a commanding screen presence, but his portrayal is hindered by a shallow character who isn’t given much complexity. The same goes for 9m88, whose depiction of grief is the only major facet to the role and doesn’t get much of anything else to explore.
There’s one pivotal moment in “Girl” that finds Hsiao-lee crying in front of her mother after an emotional catharsis. The mother’s only response is, “Cry when I’m gone.” This realization that a parental figure, even the more sympathetic of the two, can recognize their child’s suffering but would rather ignore it is devastating. It encapsulates the adversity these characters face and how difficult it can be to overcome such hardship. However, these themes don’t bring any level of nuance to make this commentary enticing. The film is well-assembled and ably performed, but in service of a narrative that’s ultimately conventional in its character study. There’s a recognition it may be reckoning with recognizable territory, but the storytelling doesn’t elevate this material to a level that makes it worthy of investment.
