Two people riding a motorbike in the dark pouring rain, a fast walk through the backyard of a restaurant. The warmth of a family dinner: a bright light, the clinking of cutlery. Then a clear cut of the wrist. Blood and screams. A hand in a hot pot surrounded by frying oil and spices. A classical score similar to a lullaby accompanies these images alternating between dark and light, creating a distorted perception of brutal sweetness. This rhythmic overture sets the paste of the movie A Sun by Taiwanese director Chung Mong-hong, a melodrama exploring the consequences of juvenile criminality. Premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival in September 2019 and soon after released on Netflix, A Sun was selected to represent Taiwan at the 93rd Academy Awards where it made it to the shortlist. Based on a true story told by a school friend of the director, this melodrama gained attention after Peter Debruge of Variety called it the best film of 2020.
Two teenagers, Chen Jian-Ho (Chen Yi-wen) and Radish (Liu Kuan-ting) approach an acquaintance named Oden (Li-Tung Chang) who is having dinner at a restaurant. Without any hesitation, Radish cuts Oden’s hand with a machete. The reason for this gruesome act remains a mystery throughout the whole film. From time to time, Radish hints at the fact that he did it for Chen, who however doesn’t follow up on his provoking comments and doesn’t disclose any information. Nevertheless, an invisible but resistant thread seems to tighten the two. Chen owes something to Radish? Both teenagers are sentenced to juvenile prison. However, Radish receives a longer sentence and must pay Oden’s family compensation. In the aftermath, Chen is dragged into a spiral of resentment, violence, and loneliness within the detention facilities. On the one hand, his mother Qin (Samantha Ko) remains his only anchor to life, the only one who doesn’t give up on him. On the other, Chen’s father Wo (Chen Yi-wen) disowns him. When asked by Oden’s father to pay at least part of the compensation to not foreclose Radish’s family, Wo refuses. He argues to have only one son: Hao (Greg Hsu). Chen’s brother Hao is a handsome, smart, and responsible student trying to get into med school. Since the incarceration of his brother all family’s expectations weigh upon him. He must even take care of Xiao Yu (Apple Wu), Chen’s fifteen-year-old pregnant girlfriend. All of a sudden, she appears along with her mentor, to bring even more unrest in the already unsettled family. Then Hao commits suicide. “I wished I could hide in the shade. But I could not. I had no water tanks, no shades, just sunlight. Twenty-four hours uninterrupted, radiant and warm, shining on all things”. These are the last lines written by Hao before committing suicide alluding to the constant attention and pressure his family was overwhelming him with. The whole movie deals with the aftermath of juvenile delinquency and suicide, two issues deeply affecting Taiwanese society. Also, class differences play an important role throughout the plot.
‘Shining on All Things’, the last line of Hao’s goodbye message, is also the original Chinese title of the movie. It was adapted into A Sun, for the English version. At first, Director Chung was unsure of it because the solar system indeed has only one sun, but then liked the homonym with “a son”, as Wo, on more than one occasion argues to have only one son, implicitly not acknowledging Chen’s existence. The existential collective journey towards acceptance and forgiveness, A Sun deals with, is guided by an incredible dissonant film score composed by Lin Sheng-xiang. Often coupling light notes to violence, as well as visual effects of light and darkness, each character has its musical theme which changes slightly depending on the scene and the character’s moods. This creates an immersive soundscape that drags the spectator into each of the character’s isolated worlds, leading to assume different perspectives on the same situation. Empathy and compassion are unexpected feelings arising in this context of crude individualism and cruelty.