Thanatos, Drunk

• Heavy maternal love forces two sons to live under immense daily pressure. The older brother escaped physically, yet forever lives in nighttime shadows; returning home replicates the fateful nagging of the mother. The younger brother, knowing he cannot escape, soaks himself in aimless smoke and alcohol, pretending to break blood shackles. Though she passed and decayed, the mother hovers like a ghost over this damp home, binding human hearts, impossible to dispel. Chang Tso-chi fills coarse, saturated frames with raw self-projection, giving a rare restless unease. Fractured narrative timelines and primal flesh collisions turn desire and anguish into a decadent portrait of lower-class life between reality and stupor, drifting between drunken living and dream death.

• This film exemplified how outstanding writing can overcome production constraints. The characterisation was extraordinary, especially considering that the film was shot from the perspective of a guy named Rat. My favourite part was how the relationship he and his brother, Shanghe, shared with their mother was a subtle defining element that did so much more to explain their paths in life more than exposition ever could.

• Romantic flowers bloom from festering, oozing scars. Pitch-black and dim amber, weaving through streets and alleys, like ants, like rats, like rotten fish, like spiders, and ultimately like maggots. In drunken intoxication, one catches a glimpse of lives parasitic on affection and desire. The moment Lee Hong-chi emerges from a wash of white light is magnificent; the gay subplot feels a bit thin, but Lu Hsueh-feng's performance (or the mother character itself) is truly astonishing.

1 / 3