4/5 stars
Newly restored and back in cinemas to mark its 30th anniversary, Edward Yang De-chang’s A Confucian Confusion is perhaps one of the most commercially minded films in the late Taiwan New Wave director’s oeuvre.
A screwball comedy of manners set in the fast-paced business world of a newly wealthy Taipei, the film examines the clashes of tradition vs modernity, art vs business, and love vs money within a group of increasingly desperate and lovelorn individuals over a chaotic couple of days.
At the centre of Yang’s maelstrom of modern malaise is Molly (brilliantly played by Ni Shu-jun), the beautiful, spoiled head of a flailing PR firm financed by her rich fiancé, Akeem (Wang Bosen).
Molly’s primary confidante is her personal assistant and college pal, Qiqi (Chen Shiang-chyi), but when Molly makes her fire aspiring actress Feng (Richie Li) over a jealous misunderstanding, Qiqi also quits, sending both women into an existential tailspin.
The men in their lives are equally at a loss over how to effectively navigate their swiftly evolving society. Qiqi’s fiancé, Ming (Wang Wei-ming), also a former schoolmate, works a thankless government job while still living with his mother (Elaine Jin Yan-ling).
Akeem is determined to pin Molly down to a wedding date despite being convinced she is having an affair. His best friend Larry (Danny Deng) works at the same PR firm and is dating Feng, but is desperately attempting to woo Molly.
Also thrown into this melee are Birdy (Wang Ye-ming), an impossibly vain and ludicrous playwright; Molly’s sister (Chen Li-mei), a popular television personality who used to be engaged to Akeem; and her perpetually morose writer husband (Yen Hung-ya).
The result is a whirlwind of intertwined melodrama played out at a frantic pace, its emotional timbre histrionic.
Quite unlike Yang’s other films with their restrained and measured tone, A Confucian Confusion appears to revel in its chaotic execution. Using his roster of self-absorbed, mostly unlikeable characters, the filmmaker astutely illustrates the dangers, in his eyes, of accelerated capitalism.
Originally released in 1994, Yang’s vividly realised microcosm captures a moment of amplified uncertainty in Taiwan, as the booming economy was propelling it away from its deep-rooted Confucian principles and the island’s relationship with mainland China moved in an uncertain direction.
Three decades on, the film has lost none of its satirical bite, while the insecurities it exposed remain as raw and unresolved as ever.