SDAFF DAY 5: THE CHINESE AND JAPANESE HAVE THE SAME TEARS

Sadly today, in the political arena, the historical pain of differences between China and Japan is attaining new silent heights.

On one hand, although the Japanese government does not want to forget Nagasaki and Hiroshima (as they should not), they want to cover and forget what they did to the Chinese during World War II (as they should not). On the other hand, the Chinese government does not want to forget what happened at Nanking (and they should not) and are seeking an apology from Japan (which they should give)

If the Americans apologized to the Japanese for dropping the atomic bomb (which most historians agree that it brought a most violent yet rapid end to the war) why can’t the Japanese apologize to the Chinese, like the German people did to the Jews?

So in my own little world, I am trying to find some solace with this issue and I thought, and some of you might snicker, that by attending a Japanese and Chinese film, one right after the other during the same night, that somehow I might be able to contribute some esoteric word of peace and send this message up into the karmic universe and see where it goes.

Wouldn’t you know it, it was one of the nights that my wife had to work late and unable to come to the festival and so naturally both films I saw were real tear-jerkers, stories about love, togetherness and overcoming odds. As I am writing this, she’s back at work, and I need another hug.

Which was something missing amid all the tears in the Japanese film HULA GIRLS, a unique combination of BILLY ELLIOT meets THE FULL MONTY.

I mean, families are being torn apart, life long friends having to say heart wrenching goodbyes splitting up due to the economy, parents dying in the wallowing mines and people taking blame to protect others so they wont get in trouble.

Yet in this constant mire of dim dark times, there were no hugs. Even at the crescendo of joy and unity, no hugs. No one even bothered to say I love you.

Yet within this cultural divide between emotion and love, Korean-Japanese director Lee Sang-il subliminally plants several seeds that perhaps might grow into something unexpected.

Although no one said I love you, it was said when teen hula dancer Kimiko beckons her teacher to return by performing a hula dance that tells a story of love. Also of note, is when a drunken father beats the living daylights out of his daughter that is learning hula, the female teacher storms into the public baths and proceeds to beat the father.

In some Asian cultures, although it is recognized as wrong, it is “acceptable” for men to beat women, so it was an emotional release when the teacher entered the baths, showing that women do not have to take it anymore.

From what I understand, it is an Asian thing, people don’t hug, parents don’t tell their children that they love them and vice-versa, it is just improper to do that. That is also the way it used to be in England, but I am glad that we immigrated to America and although it took many years, we were able to find the internal strength and discipline to break that habit.

So when I married into a traditional Chinese family in 1981, in the beginning I could see the shock (maybe fear) in my in-law’s eyes as I would hug them at the airport. The irony now is that if I don’t hug them, it is misconstrued that I don’t care or love them anymore. How cool is that?

Which is one reason why I totally loved the Chinese film YEAR OF THE FISH, a story set in the underbelly of New York City’s Chinatown that taps into the emotional content of Cinderella and is curiously shot with rotoscope sheen.

It is also a film that tries to break down the traditional, straight-faced way that many Chinese families approach marriage and relationships. And the most impressive thing about this movie is that it got all Shakespearean at the end, and to an Englishman (of which I proudly share that I do have American citizenship), it won over my heart.

When 9/11 occurred, the front page of the Hong Kong newspapers did not report on the tragedy as it pertains to world peace, the possibilities of war, the suffering of the dead or the pain of the family loses, but on how this event will effect the economy and the Hang Seng stock market index. The story merely reflects, as it always has, that money is the most important thing in many Chinese people’s lives. Love takes a back seat.

So I was knocked over backwards when at the end of the day, the main point of YEAR OF THE FISH gloriously sparkled for all to see, at least for those who watched with eyes as open as their hearts.

Fie, no, money was not the important thing in life, but love was and to coin that most famous of Shakespeare’s quotes on love, “It is better to have loved and lost than never to have lost at all.”

Throughout both of these films, one Japanese, one Chinese, I listened to the audiences crying as the cinematic scenarios unfolded, silent weeps, people sniffling, and others trying to bravely hold back their emotions.

The reactions from both films and both audiences were the same, one could not tell the differences between the tears. Maybe if we could all just close our eyes a little bit more often and listen, then we might find that we are all united under the same emotional umbrella, which hopefully one day can protect us all from that rainstorm of hate, distrust, face and ego.