January 8, 2015
The Rice Bomber –
Taiwan, 2014
Farming is backbreaking work. It always has been. And there
has always been controversy when it came to farming, prices, and trade,
controversy which has only grown since the spread of globalization and the concepts
of free trade and lower tariffs. To illustrate this Cho Li’s The Rice Bomber shows viewers a farmers’
protest from 1988, and it is telling that in the sixteen years that elapse
during the film, the farmers’ plight only worsens.
At the heart of Li’s film is Rumen Yang, well played by
Chien-Wei Huang. Rumen lives on a rice farm with his grandparents in Changhua
County, and the film’s opening scenes inform viewers of a common dilemma there;
namely, whether to stay and try to make it work or to admit defeat and go. Many
have chosen the latter; Rumen’s grandparents elect to stay, believing – perhaps
erroneously – that if they continue to farm, they will be able to keep their
land and their way of life. It is a quest that is getting harder with each passing
day. For example, early on in the film, we learn that the family is being
charged for using water from a well that they built themselves. It hardly seems
fair, but what can they do?
The first half of the film documents Rumen’s real-world
education. At home, he sees his grandparents struggle; in the military, he is
constantly bullied by his superior officer and soldiers from the upper class;
and later, he meets a boy young enough to be in school, yet tasked with
providing for his three younger siblings. Each of these experiences teaches him
about the plight of those with little money or power, and he comes to see the
government as both corrupt and unconcerned about the poor. In one scene, we see
a meeting between a government official and the head of a local lending service,
the kind that operates unofficially and often charges an exorbitant interest
rate, and it is clear that they are in cahoots.
This is the part of the film that I enjoyed the most, for it
builds up a case for the pessimism and hopelessness we hear reflected in the
farmers’ words. Some have no faith in the government; others too much. In
either case, there is no evidence that anyone is working on their behalf - as
one character points out, there’s much more money to be made in hotels and land
development than in farming. As time progresses, we watch as Rumen moves from
shouting disparaging words at reporters and local authorities to more political
actions. His first is to begin a letter writing campaign and a petition drive
in the hopes that these will inform those with the power to do something about
the plight of the farmers. His pleas fall on deaf ears. One scene in particular
is telling. In it, Rumen visits the Council of Agriculture in Taipei, and in
less time than it would take to make a piece of toast, he is told what a
complex process it is to file a petition, urged to present his case local
authorities, and shown the door.
The first half of the film is also memorable for the array
of characters we are introduced to, for with these characters we get a good
understanding of all of the parties involved. We see Rumen’s grandparents,
lifelong farmers just trying to hold on to an endangered way of life; we meet a
young aboriginal teen (Yang, Peng-yu) who teaches Rumen an important lesson
about stereotypes; and we are introduced to a young woman referred to as “Troublemaker”
(Nikki Hsieh). She wants to start a revolution, but quickly recognizes the
times for what they are. As I watched the film, I expected a romance to
develop, yet the film steers clear of this, partly because it has such a hard
time building their chemistry. In fact, they spend most of their scenes
together cursing and yelling at each other. Not exactly the ideal recipe for
love.
Unfortunately, the film runs out of steam in the second
half, bogged down by political speeches, unnecessary flashbacks, and a series
of scenes in which ordinary people run away screaming or in which robotic arms
reach in to grab parcels that contain minor explosives. These scenes became
tedious and redundant after a while. The film is also hampered by its lead
character, for if what the film relates is true, Rumen was on the low end of
the terrorist scale. After all, according to the film, it was publicity he was
after, not carnage, and the film ends with a whimper, instead of a bang (no pun
intended). Also, it seems clear to me that Li has a favorable view of Rumen. This
may explain why there is very little development of the film’s seedier
characters and virtually no decent government officials. There is also no
exploration of the long-term effects of Rumen’s actions of the poor souls who
were just at work, in a park, or at a train station when they either came
across a bomb or were close to one that actually went off. I have no doubt that
some of these people were scarred for life by the experience.
In the end, The Rice
Bomber is a decent film that will shed light on the current plight of
farmers in Taiwan, many of whom continue to rally against free trade deals that
they see as threatening their livelihood. It also adequately shows how an
average young man could become someone who resorts to terrorism to get his
message across. However, with its important subject matter and such an
interesting character as Rumen Yang, I can’t help feeling that it should have
been much more of an event, rather than a slow trudge through a succession of
bomb scares. In the end, the film is a noble effort, but it had the potential
to be so much more than that. (on DVD in Region 3)
3 stars
*The Rice Bomber is
in Taiwanese and Mandarin with English subtitles.
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