Yi Yi

first to do it. to make palpable tears flow down my face. way too much weight in this film, way too much capacity, and way too much pain. who knew words, text, and audio could just pierce your soul. no action, no big death shown, and no noise, really just the melancholy of curiosity, obliviousness, and life's gloomy hues captured in slow motion. thank you yi yi, for absolutely drowning my face in a tear-ridden pool of self-actualization. there's just something about yang-yang's preserved, unmovable innocence and how he bites through everyday life with such personalized art. the film's poster makes so much sense now, with the back of his head shown. if yi yi made me cry, i fear edward yang's other film a brighter summer day will actually kill me as it's somehow another fucking hour long.