1997
Berlin International Film Festival
評審團特別獎銀熊獎｜金熊獎提名
評審團特別獎銀熊獎｜金熊獎提名
銀雨果獎｜金雨果獎提名
最佳劇情片、最佳男主角、最佳女配角、最佳音效提名
最佳男主角、評審團特別獎｜最佳亞洲劇情片提名
漫畫家／插畫家高妍創作的長篇漫畫作品《綠之歌 -收集群風-》，近日入選了日本寶島社2023年度《這本漫畫真厲害！》票選「男性篇」的第９名，成為首位登上排行榜的台灣漫畫家。這本描寫台灣少女在接觸音樂與文學的大學生活中，一邊感受戀愛悸動、一邊慢慢成長過程的作品，引用了《一一》、《青春電幻物語》等台日經典電影元素。趁著年底大選，Giloo紀實影音邀請到目前旅居日本、快閃返台投票的高妍參與全新節目「Giloo Podcast」，與我們分享她喜愛的電影，以及這些養分如何長成創作時的無數靈動瞬間。
自己選擇的羈絆，會重於先天的血濃於水嗎？構成家庭的不總是血緣，有時是相處的時光，加上愛、回憶、失去、原諒，才能串起緣分。Giloo著眼八部「非典型家庭」電影，帶領觀眾一窺異色家族，探索無人知曉的家族幸福論，或者說，幸福悖論。
作為蔡明亮電影世界的原型，處女作《青少年哪吒》對於小康之家的塑造，非比尋常。老夫少妻的雙親來自不同省籍與歷史文化的婚姻結合，孕育了李康生——這位蔡明亮電影永遠的繆思——格外與眾不同的體質與稟氣。
Ming-liang Tsai is often regarded by scholars and critics as a key figure in the tradition of slow cinema. His characters are frequently silent or reserved, and he is known for using long takes to observe them in stillness. Through the passage of real time, Tsai explores the subtle emotional responses of his characters, allowing their inner worlds to unfold in silence and space.
As a comic artist whose work takes root in personal experience and carries the qualities of a novel, I often find myself searching for traces of the narrator within other people’s stories. No matter the genre, the people, events, and objects that appear in a story are never entirely “fictional.” From the central plot or a pivotal incident, to something as subtle as a character’s temperament or quirks—these nuances often stem from the long-term observation and quiet accumulation of a sensitive soul. In this light, film is, in many ways, a series of sugar-coated documentaries. They’ve been made sweet and easy to digest—but if you truly chew on them, you’ll come to realize: beneath that coating lies a core made up of the very life that unfolds around us, every single day.
This is a labyrinth of underground caves—each one distinct in style, each both a hidden space and a form of revelation. In The River, the cave takes the shape of secret doors—behind each, encounters that are either redemptive or forbidden. In The Act of Killing, the entrance is brutally exposed: a body split open, revealing cruelty with no filter. Before the Dawn offers a cave of mazes—guided by clear narration, and yet, we fall into a thick fog of disoriented images. A Morning in Taipei is a time-traveling cave—Lim Giong’s soundtrack transforms the past into a self-contained cosmos, where even fleeting moments feel eerily contemporary. Marina Abramović in Brazil leads us inward—to the cave within. Through extreme rituals and faith-fueled intensity, she seeks peace, confronting energies too blinding to look at directly.
As time passes, generations of military dependents’ village residents have gradually moved away from the homes they once knew. Yet even after leaving, many have found personal ways to preserve and document the memories of the juàncūn—Taiwan’s unique military dependents’ villages. Among these methods, filmmaking stands out as a powerful act of memory—freezing time, bringing vanished buildings, objects, and moments vividly back to life. This year’s Taipei Military Dependents’ Village Cultural Festival: Online Film Showcase invites you to travel through time via the small screen, exploring the evolving faces and unseen stories of the juàncūn through film and documentary.
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The masters of cinema have walked through the river of light and shadow, leaving behind traces that time cannot erase. Their reflections on film are already sealed within every frame they captured. Giloo presents a selection of restored classics from Taiwan—films that carry not only cinematic legacy, but also fragments of memory, identity, and land. Whether these works are part of your earliest film awakenings or a first encounter, they invite you to rediscover your connection to both self and home. Step aboard the reel, and journey back to the golden years—belonging to both Taiwan, and to cinema itself.
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In pursuit of happiness, we sometimes end up unhappy. Youth is always dazzling—and cruel. Family ties are always volatile—and tender. Yet it’s often only in the aftermath of youth that we begin to understand: happiness cannot be frozen in time. This sticky, sun-drenched summer, Giloo presents 11 masterworks on family and fleeting joy—beginning with Shunji Iwai’s All About Lily Chou-Chou and closing with Edward Yang’s Yi Yi. From Ang Lee’s Father Knows Best trilogy to Tsai Ming-liang’s Water Trilogy, with appearances by Hou Hsiao-hsien and Hirokazu Kore-eda along the way, each film explores the paradox of happiness, or perhaps the quiet truth that happiness—like memory—can never be held still.
I remember the summer break of my sophomore year—because I took over organizing our department’s cinema festival, I decided to stay in the school dorm all summer, immersing myself in a personal, sensory journey of film appreciation. One afternoon in the campus library, I randomly picked up Tsai Ming-liang’s The River. To my surprise, it quietly and calmly depicted the atypical family experiences I had kept buried deep inside. That film stayed with me—a teenager full of anxiety about life, unsure whether I could truly take responsibility for myself—through those idle, languid summer days. Back then, there was no fiber-optic internet, no AI-powered smartphones. Just light and shadow, casting a humorous yet absurd gaze upon the hardships of reality. So here I am, recommending this film—let yourself sink into the dreamscape of its story, and let it echo the realism of our own lives.