The theme of this program is hookup films — stories of young men and women in the city, some by chance, others by design. Each work carries a strong sense of space: homes, subways, laundromats, saunas — online and offline, full of contemporary texture. Sex is the desire to live; when facing death, I feel small, and each night becomes a luxury. At some point, I stopped saying “forever” and began saying “the rest of my life,” though what remains may be only tonight. In one scene, he asks, “Why do you make films?” She answers, “Because I like it.” Because I like it — that’s how simple the reason is for this generation.
Spectral Flames: Hidden Gems Waiting for an Encounter | Online Curation by Film Critic Mr. GeckoBiHu
In every era, certain films persist as hidden gems, burning quietly their spectral flames in corners where nobody notices. Spectral, for having been buried by the arbitrary nature of its era, or from years of forgottenness in obscurity; Spectral, also for the fact that they give form to an internal, invisible burning within, weeping aloud in a deafening silence. With this programme, I hope to orchestrate encounters between these films and audiences who might not have realized their need for them. They do not yet know that they yearn for those spectral flames to flare up within their screen, to sting and scorch their yearning heart.
Recently, in a novel I've come to love, I found myself grasping the weight of life's slices. In the story, there is a wicked sorcerer who freezes people in the instant just before tragedy strikes—suspending everything, sealing it into a crystal ball, and building an entire museum from these frozen moments. And isn't film, in its own way, just as cruel? As viewers, we are little more than instruments for collecting tissue slices—slipping into a character's world for a single fleeting moment, wandering through it in passing, only to return, in the blink of an eye, to the reality that is our own.
Before the Box Gets Emptied
The Egret River
Neko and Flies
Before Dawn
One Summer's Day
The Horse
Growing Pains
When does a woman first become aware of her own body? Is it the moment she feels the first gaze upon her, or the moment the first wound splits open? The body is a battlefield where power, desire and trauma intertwine. Spanning animation, documentary and narrative features, Fissures of the Body looks at how the female body becomes a vessel for violence and discipline — and how, from within those fissures, it tries to speak, to write and to remake itself. Together, these works reveal that wounds are never merely physical; they are symbolic and psychic as well. From everyday scars to the social gaze, from trauma inherited across generations to the dismemberment performed by the cosmetic-surgery industry, the female body is continually cut, filled and consumed — and yet, in that same process, it shows the resilience of the survivor and a faint, stubborn resistance.
Black Box Diaries
A Girl Named Ann
In the ceaseless flow of human existence, we struggle in the space between reality and dreams. We have witnessed the beauty and grandeur of life, and confronted the absurdity and baseness of human nature. We water flowers on the beach, build dreams among the rubble. After crossing mountains and rivers, after witnessing the joys and sorrows, the encounters and partings of life, the journey eventually comes to an end. We lay down our burdens, let go of desire, love, and hatred, and release the thoughts and attachments born from them. In the end, we become free—unburdened souls, simply being.
Before Dawn
我的神經病
The Chinese Mayor
Dream in Silence
The Postman's White Nights
Let the Wind Carry Me
Master Sheng Yen
Each of us follows a line of our own—a trace of time, slowly shaped by the moments that make up a life. As that line stretches forward and meets another, crossing and intertwining, a story quietly begins. Some move swiftly, some slowly; some linger in the stillness of everyday life, while others find themselves caught in another's path. These dialogue-free animated shorts use minimalist lines and color to capture the subtle movements of life. When words fall silent, lines begin to speak. May these brief moments invite you to pause, step into these stories, and perhaps discover where your own line meets another.
In an age of endless watching, how do we deal with distraction overload? Too exhausted after work? These films are short enough not to test your patience. Some are early works by acclaimed directors; all are sharp, rich, and full of surprises. Fine, I admit it—I also put them here simply because I love them. They’ll leave you wanting to hit replay. You may need to be jolted by them one more time before you’re ready to move on.
Before Dawn
All the Crows in the World
Judgement
Tuesday
The Hostess
Love Letters
Everything changes; the only constant is change itself. Young people who encounter life-altering upheavals face life and death, joy and sorrow. At life’s turning points, the choices they make reveal who these protagonists truly are. Within these stories, we may see reflections of ourselves—or find lives far removed from our own. Yet they always help us understand one another, allowing us, over ten to a few dozen minutes, to experience, grow, and comfort each other together. In a world of ever-shifting circumstances, perhaps cinema is a faithful companion that walks alongside us.
The word daisy originates from the Old English dægeseage — the "day’s eye." Following the rhythm of light, they open and close, standing as a worldly symbol of innocence and hope. This curation, however, focuses on those forms of life that refuse to close in the darkness. They navigate the liminal spaces between collapse and rebirth, bondage and freedom, fragility and madness. When the light of hope as defined by the world fades, they bloom with a defiant, crimson hue. As the "day’s eye" shuts, the red daisy begins its journey to find its own light within the cracks.
“If a person stays in a place long enough, part of their soul will remain there.” These words, spoken by the protagonist of my documentary, not only profoundly shaped the way I see my hometown and the places where I grew up, but also became a kind of revelation. I used to fear that these places would become unfamiliar, or even disappear entirely. Yet this sentence taught me how to look gently at disappearance and loss. The films in this program gaze upon living, breathing lives, observing how each person leaves a part of their soul in the places where they have lived, wandered, or stayed.
Cyclone
In Memory of The Chinatown
