Nina Wu นีน่า อู๋ (2019) [บรรยายไทย]

Nina Wu นีน่า อู๋ (2019) [บรรยายไทย]
หมวดหมู่ :
  • เรื่องย่อ : Nina Wu นีน่า อู๋ (2019) [บรรยายไทย]

    ชื่อภาพยนตร์ : Nina Wu นีน่า อู๋
    แนว/ประเภท : Drama
    ผู้กำกับภาพยนตร์ : Midi Z
    บทภาพยนตร์ : Midi Z,  Ke-Xi Wu
    นักแสดง : Midi Z,  Vivian Sung,  Kimi Hsia 
    วันที่ออกฉาย : 20 May 2019



    Nina Wu, a girl who leaves small theatre company in the country for the big city in pursuit of her actress dream. The wait seems to be endless, as she lives a lonely and repressed life combined with hereditary condition, she suffers from minor depression. One day, she gets a role as a heroine in a 70s espionage film. Having decided to devote herself completely to the character, she did everything she could to get the role and she did succeed. When she finally welcomes her long anticipation of fame, series of unfortunate events and threats start to haunt her. Having to struggle her way through gender and sexuality equality, can Nina, like many other minor individual fight against the odds in life and stand undefeated? Or is it just real life that no one can escape from endless hardships?


    Midi Z on 'Nina Wu': 'I'm Aiming for a New Cinematic Language' - Variety

IMDB : tt9404442

คะแนน : 6.5

รับชม : 457 ครั้ง

เล่น : 160 ครั้ง



    “They don’t just want to take my body, they want to take my soul!” So runs the overripe line of dialogue that actress Nina Wu (Wu Kexi) has to repeat again and again in “Nina Wu,” the fascinating, glitchy, stylish, and troublesome new film from Taiwanese director Midi Z (“The Road to Mandalay”). Nina practices the line in the mirror, rehashes it in auditions (and “auditions”) and then in take after take until it becomes a kind of mantra that threads through the film, or less poetically, the line of gibberish that a doll might parrot when you pull its string. Each time, Nina cries. And each time, the words seem to get rawer, a little of their clichéd glibness scuffing off, as we discover that the film is very much about how the taking of a body can cue the taking of a soul, and furthermore, how insidiously the victim of this double theft can be subconsciously convinced of her own complicity in it.


    Nina Wu' Furiously Rips Through Conventions to Deliver an Urgent Call for  Action - Sinema.SG


    “Nina Wu” was written by its luminous star, inspired by her own experiences as a young actress and by the Harvey Weinstein scandal — much of which happened in plush hotel rooms not far from the Cannes theater where this Un Certain Regard title had its debut. And as the first directly #MeToo-related narrative to play in this context, it is a deeply challenging one, perhaps destined to be misinterpreted in some quarters, as it resists, even contradicts the simplification of its central act of violation into an obviously empowering, triumph-over-adversity arc. One of the basic tenets of #MeToo is that we listen to women; but what if they do not say exactly what #MeToo needs to hear?

    In her cramped Taipei apartment, Nina prepares some dumplings and puts on a corseted outfit. She applies makeup, switches on a webcam and a smile and simpers down the lens, greeting her online fans with cutesy peace signs and coy entreaties for online currency. But then her phone rings with the offer of an audition that could be the big break her foundering acting career needs.

    She learns her monologue and tries out, but the director (Shih Ming-shuai) appears unconvinced. And then, in the first of the film’s rug-pulling transitions (courtesy of one of editors Matthieu Laclau and Tsai Yann-Shan’s clever, unfindable cuts) we realize that what seems to be Nina leaving the audition in tears is actually her shooting an emotional scene for the film. She got the part, but quite how that happened, in the space of that tiny elision, is a mystery that Nina will go to extravagant psychological lengths to conceal from herself.

    On set, Nina bears up under directorial bullying and turns in a star-making performance. But her reality has started to rupture: Lizards appear in lampshades, cockroaches crawl on her arms, and a sinister, smiling young woman (Hsia Yu-chiao) is following her with the malevolent intent of a “Black Swan.” Even when she returns as a star to the reassuring surroundings of her hometown to help her struggling parents, she is haunted by bad dreams featuring a hotel hallway, lit in red neon, and a doorway that she dare not approach.

    Wu Kexi turns in a rivetingly brittle, vulnerable performance, navigating her own co-written script with absolute conviction, while Midi Z, formerly best known for works of social realism, luxuriates in ornamenting this psychodrama with hyperstylized noir flourishes. DP Florian Zinke’s color-blocked camerawork is sinuous and prowling, and even when not explicitly depicting Nina’s fraying state of mind, often tracks her in and out of rooms and buildings in woozy long takes as though the camera, too, were her pursuer.