As a seasoned cinephile with a penchant for offbeat and cerebral films, I must say that Yeo Siew Hua’s Stranger Eyes has left me utterly captivated and intrigued. This film is not just a simple crime thriller; it’s a complex tapestry of human fragility, voyeurism, and identity that resonates deeply with my own experiences in the labyrinthine world of cinema.
Under the lens of “Stranger Eyes,” emerging Singaporean director Yeo Siew Hua metamorphoses an initially unsettling crime drama into something more intricate, powerful, and enigmatic, yet fundamentally tied to relatable human vulnerability. Having debuted in competition at Venice, this thought-provoking, somber exploration of voyeurism, self-exposure, identity, remorse, and grief – you know, the fun topics – could gain momentum from critical acclaim, potentially finding a wider audience beyond Asia, particularly in film connoisseur markets.
Yeo’s work is recognized for its whimsical, twisty take on timelines and interwoven stories, and while Stranger Eyes doesn’t delve as deeply as A Land Imagined into the metatextual depths, it does take a dip. Like its predecessor, it begins in the midst and then flashes back, and includes peculiar instances where time appears to change for characters who intersect and mirror each other. The narrative features numerous duplicated or reflected characters: two fathers who have neglected and disappointed their daughters, for example; two mothers brimming with bitterness over careers given up for children; and individuals being stalked who start stalking their stalkers in return.
The central event that unfolds at the film’s outset, yet close to its beginning, involves the kidnapping of Bo, the young daughter of characters Junyang (Wu Chien-Ho) and Peiying (Anicca Panna). Initially, as we encounter them pleading on TV and social media for any information, they appear as compassionate victims, deeply saddened by their child’s disappearance. However, in a split second, when Junyang momentarily glanced at his phone, Bo was taken from a local playground. Regrettably, the numerous surveillance cameras surrounding the park failed to capture the kidnapping on tape. Despite this setback, investigating officer Zheng (Pete Teo) remains optimistic that by meticulously sifting through the vast amounts of CCTV footage at their disposal, they’ll find evidence of an illegal act and solve the case.
It appears that there’s more to the narrative of the couple than initially perceived. Snippets from their past, along with clandestine recordings on DVDs mysteriously delivered under their door — reminiscent of the anonymous mail drops in Michael Haneke’s Hidden — will expose a significant divide in Junyang and Peiying’s marriage. It seems they have not been model parents to their son Bo, as their resentments and disagreements, exacerbated by sharing an apartment with Junyang’s self-centered mother (Vera Chen), have taken a toll on their parenting. In her past, Peiying was a party girl and aspiring DJ, finding solace in her Discord channel where she posts videos of herself spinning discs to rekindle her clubbing life. Junyang, who works the Zamboni at an ice rink, symbolically smoothing over rough surfaces all day, has been unfaithful to Peiying with both a male and female coworker, engaging in threesomes in the locker room. Who would have thought ice rinks harbored such a lively scene of secret trysts?
As a gamer, I’m drawn into this story because a significant part of it revolves around Lao Wu, a solitary grocery store manager with feelings for Peiying. He lives across from the couple and shares his life with his elderly, blind mother. A spoiler here, but it’s not much of a surprise since it’s revealed early on: Lao Wu is the one sending the DVDs. Could he be the one who took Bo? Or will the intricate web of surveillance uncover a different truth about the missing child, a child no one was watching when she vanished?
In this art-house film submission, crucial details aren’t fully clarified as we approach the closing scenes. Instead, characters seem to overlap and become complex, much like colors in a kaleidoscope. Cinematographer Hideho Urata skillfully intensifies the eerie lighting, and the editing by Jean-Christophe Bouzy becomes more fragmented towards the end. However, what sets this film apart from being merely a critic’s darling is the authenticity of the acting, particularly from the lead actors Wu, Lee, and Panna. Each actor conveys a deep sense of loneliness, especially in crowded settings, which are quite common in Singapore.
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2024-09-06 20:24