THE PUPPET MASTER
With Li Tien-lu, Lin Chung, Cheng Kuei-chung, Cho Ju-wei, Hung Liu, and Bai Ming-hwa
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Talking about Hou’s films isn’t easy in a country as cheerfully indifferent to the rest of the world as ours–a country so shamelessly ethnocentric that the worst, most compromised, and least interesting film of John Woo gets 50 times more press coverage than his others simply because it was made here and not in Hong Kong, and a country so juvenile that a director like Woo, who makes fantasies for 11-year-old boys about masses of people getting sprayed with bullets, receives 50 times more attention, even in publications for grown-ups, than a director like Hou, who makes realistic movies for grown-ups about the way people live. (It may also be relevant that the United States hasn’t recognized Taiwan diplomatically since 1979, when it began recognizing mainland China; according to the existing diplomatic rules, it can’t recognize both.)
It’s often been said that American identity is something of an existential problem because of our melting-pot origins; and being American often means not only reflecting your origins but also, to a great extent, not reflecting your origins. But as a country with an existential identity crisis, Taiwan has ours beat in spades.
This inquiry may have had some bearing on the film’s title. As a puppet master who learned his craft from his father, began working as a stage assistant at 9, and gave his first puppet performance at 14, Li figures in some ways as an artist-god; yet in other respects he’s often a puppet himself–a fact that his own narration clearly acknowledges. Another part of this inquiry has to do with the relation of Li’s family to the state, but no sooner is this question broached in The Puppet Master than it becomes vexing, almost impenetrable: given the history of Taiwan and the ambiguities of Taiwanese identity, one can only ask, What is a Taiwanese family, then or now? And what is–or could be–a Taiwanese state?
By contrast, the long stretches of theater and puppet-theater performance are usually more abstract and intellectual in effect, in part because we can’t always understand the action. But the performances themselves are invariably mesmerizing and beautiful. I especially love the rapid waving of a blue and white flag during puppet performances to signify a lake or river.
