2021
Taipei Film Festival
百萬首獎、最佳紀錄片、最佳攝影
百萬首獎、最佳紀錄片、最佳攝影
最佳紀錄短片提名
52:37 每年的10月到2月左右，是捕鰻苗的時間，捕鰻人的工作與自然物種密切交織，這樣的勞動樣態或許也形塑了他們的身體時間感及生活觀，「我不喜歡被綁死死的感覺，我人生喜歡走跳」，鰻苗來了，就去海邊，鰻苗走了，就去其他地方。 片末，隨著噹噹一路從成功鎮騎車到宜蘭，伴隨著禱告聲，海風聲也漸入，提醒著我們10月又到了，這是捕鰻的聲音。看完整部片我才發現，我喜歡它在聲音設計的處理，在不經意之間，將捕鰻的聲音如海風一樣灌入我的感官記憶。
在觀看本片之前，我一直很期待「看」到捕鰻的具體過程，鰻苗這麼細小又透明，如何捕撈？ 但本片其實沒有要科普捕鰻，一方面或許受技術限制，另一方面或許更出自導演的選擇，以近乎魔幻的手法呈現捕鰻者與鰻苗的關係，尤其他們在凌晨踏入海中，僅靠頭燈及遠方燈光進行捕撈的那幾個場景，以慢快門（及抽格？）的黑白畫面，讓觀眾陷入恍惚，而這種狀態或許也接近捕鰻者當下的身體感：在冰冷的海水中，海浪不斷席捲而來，燈光微弱，因此視覺只是輔助，要靠著過往累積的經驗，以及凍僵的身體，盡可能地捕撈鰻苗，時間感顯得忽快忽慢。 所以我可能沒有「看」到捕鰻，但我以另一種方式感受了捕鰻是怎麼一回事。
最後想補充一下拍攝手法，影片除了寫實的拍攝之外，還會不時穿插延遲曝光（之類的？）特殊手法，利用光線來製造一種迷茫或迷幻感。這樣的手法好像在呼應捕鰻者們時而用酒來交際的時刻，雖然知道酒精是某種毒藥，但他們還是需要這種迷幻的時刻，重新抓取能量面對只想著要如何生存的現實。
42:25 另外一段我很喜歡的段落，是同樣的男女主角，和在海灘捕鰻一期一會的啞巴友人在暫時的家中喝酒聊天的片段。這個互動很有趣也很純粹，各種語言交錯其中，甚至包括非正式的手語。他們彼此開一些玩笑並說道，明年來搭更大的棚，再來一起喝酒。卻沒有人知道，話語散盡、騎車離去以後，下次還會不會有見面的機會。
捕鰻這個工作其實是短期性的，影片裡也有提到。我覺得這種每年撥出幾天前往海邊捕撈魚苗的行為，其實和候鳥隨著氣候遷徙非常相像（可能最近又一邊在讀《沒口之河》XD），都是為了生存而隨著環境行動。另一方面來看，紀錄片後段拍到他們捕鰻結束後接續其他的工作，這種不斷轉換的自由工作形式，不覺得很像一種「當代式的遊牧」嗎？
9:11 電影裡有幾個片段我覺得好可愛、好喜歡，其中一個是開頭沒多久，男女主角阿美族夫妻兩老在沙灘上，臨時搭建的基地、暫時的家旁邊一起看著手機裡的影片。看著看著沒多久，便一起用族語跟著影片歌唱。覺得我被觸動的原因是，我發現手機這種資本社會下的科技產品，竟然能夠矛盾地喚起生活在漢人社會中的他們唱出最原初的母語歌謠。衝突感太強烈，但聽到他們自己的語言仍然在海邊飄揚，就又覺得欣慰。
這部片沒有要為族群發聲，也並不是要為底層的勞工發聲，反而像是散文，記錄宜蘭捕鰻者的工作、日常生活。原本抱持著一個謹慎的心態和批判的眼光來準備剖析裡頭的族群和勞工關係，結果竟然邊看邊覺得沒有負擔，可以用最簡單的方式旁觀或伴行。
人類與魚其實沒有什麼不同──電影《捕鰻的人》裡的「既視感」 (pinshiuan品璇) 人類與魚其實沒有什麼不同。片子一開始，網子裡的鰻魚被人倒入，在橘色大水桶裡不停地翻滾，跟著大小不一的冰塊載浮載沉，遠處是幾名正在工作的漁人。接著，字幕浮現片名「The Catch」具雙關意涵，被抓捕的不只有桶子裡翻滾的鰻魚群，也有在這世上求生存的人們。 雖然是跟「海」有關的片子，但是大多時候都是這些討鰻人在陸上的生活，拍得歷歷在目；在暗夜的海上捕鰻的景像，只有幾處閃爍的燈火或者漁人奮力捕魚的英姿，卻都是模糊看不清楚。拍攝與「海」洋有關、以「海」作為片名的電影很多，也多傳達環境保護的觀念，但是本片《捕鰻的人》，是以「人」的角度出發，去紀錄捕鰻人的生活，他們在冬天11月到1月時，在海上捕高價的鰻魚苗；在春天到秋天2月到10月時，在陸上做工，幫有錢人蓋房子。 「親愛的主耶穌，現在我要去宜蘭，因為生活缺乏，我要去宜蘭工作，一路上請指引我明亮的方向，並且平安抵達，旅途中如果受到撒旦擾亂，請讓厄運遠離。這世界大海的食物，都是祢的，請允許我捕捉到我所需要的。阿們。」這是本片中捕鰻人從台東成功出發時，沿途行駛機車於花東公路上時的禱告詞。禱告詞裡的「世界」與「大海」；「我」與「所需要的食物」，表述了人類跟魚同樣存在，也同樣需要生活下去。 所有的討海人都會有的：離鄉背井、海洋、汗水，本片裡捕鰻人都符合這些條件，只是不同於其他與海洋相關的片子，比如：黑糖導演黃嘉俊《男人與他的海》中，海洋文學作家廖鴻基的漂流計畫、水下鯨豚攝影師金磊的攝影工作，這些蘊含的都是一種「理想」、滿腔的「熱忱」、對環境永續發展的「期許」。可是在《捕鰻的人》裡，都不是想表達這些，而是人的「本質」，人的生活是什麼模樣﹖身而為人，又該以什麼樣的方式生存在這世上﹖看完本片後，觀眾會有答案的，深藏在自己心裡。
許哲嘉導演曾說過《捕鰻的人》是斷斷續續的跟拍，從原設定「生存」到轉成「存在」的主題。他看到台灣 "東部遊牧生活" 的一面，在冬天把海邊變建地去補鰻過活，其他日子卻必須另找工作養活生命的另一種生存之道。 以減少訊息為目標，大多少的鏡頭都是從日常再回歸到主題，這對中年原住民同居人在片中展現一種不同的生活模式，手法比其他同時入圍的紀錄片豐富些，有多場唯美的攝影，有黑白轉換的轉場，有跟拍騎摩托車上公路的結尾，算是常見的 MINIMAL 台式紀錄片。 不常看這類紀錄片的觀眾應該多少會被震撼到。與金馬獎最佳紀錄短片《度日》並列2021年台灣最亮眼的兩部紀錄作品。
Through documentary works, we aim to lead audiences in contemplating talent sustainability and the power of visual media's influence on the environment. Our goal is to foster continuous intergenerational dialogue on sustainable resilience, building a collaborative ecosystem of shared solutions and green resources. This will accelerate international connections, facilitate the commercial implementation of solutions, and scale impact to infinite possibilities.
The pandemic has taught us that human society is not immune to dysfunction, failure, or sudden standstills. When the old order is disrupted, what philosophy of artistic action can emerge in this so-called new normal? And when human activity is put on pause, how might the rest of the world begin to move again? This year, the Taipei Arts Festival advocates for an eco-conscious, non-anthropocentric perspective, repositioning the human within a broader spectrum of non-human spaces. Through art, we return to the ocean, the land, the city, the community, and the myriad sentient beings that co-inhabit our world. These reflections invite a reimagining of coexistence and relationality between humans and the more-than-human world—probing how all beings, in this time and ecological age, possess their own agency, vitality, and voice.
Philosophers have long used ideas like yin and yang or lightness and weight to explain the makeup of the world. Here, I’d like to offer my own theory: the world is made up of big trees and little squirrels. The big tree stands silent, steadily pointing toward the sky. The squirrel darts between the branches—lively, charming, constantly complaining, and just a little annoying. As for me, I’m more like a complicated machine. Beyond the forces of family background and social conditioning, my free will flickers—barely there, yet stubbornly refusing to give in. Pulled in both directions, my mind constantly sways between the tree and the squirrel. That’s why I’m often drawn to films with depth and gravity—stories grounded in the weight of personal histories and quiet resilience. And especially when I come across characters who are even more chaotic squirrels than I am—that feeling of comfort? So real. So good
There is nothing new under the sun—but what about after the sun goes down? In the night, a boy uncovers a shocking secret. Urban souls wander in sleepless disquiet. A woman “goes to sea,” while a man dives into dark waters to catch baby eels. Some secretly protect humankind, some hope to change the world before dawn. Violence hides in the shadows, while others unite to speak out for those who’ve lost their voice. Following the success of our first installment, Giloo proudly presents the second wave of Taiwan Shorts Showdown—six gripping short films that reveal what stirs in the dark. Be warned: even in the night, the gods are watching.
"Anthropocene" is a collaborative production by the Art Gallery of Ontario, the National Gallery of Canada, and Italy's MAST Foundation in Bologna. It utilizes breathtaking images, films, and immersive experiences to convey humanity's impact on the Earth. The exhibition features works co-created by internationally renowned photographer Edward Burtynsky and acclaimed documentary filmmakers Jennifer Baichwal and Nicholas de Pencier. In addition to its exhibition in Canada, the show toured Italy, Sweden, the Netherlands, and Argentina from 2020-2023. This touring exhibition in Taiwan marks the first time that local artists Chi Po-lin, Yang Shun-fa, Lucas, and Lu Yu-jui have been included, collectively exploring the impact of the "Anthropocene" on the planet and re-examining the relationship between human-made landscapes, geological changes, and natural ecosystems.
A boy who survived ethnic cleansing, a sled athlete pushing the limits of the body, a protester labeled a rioter, a former firefighter painting cat graffiti on the streets of Tamsui… These individuals, each carrying their own story, leave behind glimpses of life through the camera lens — and in doing so, offer living proof of their communities' existence. Follow Giloo on a journey through lives of every kind — there's always a greater story waiting to be discovered.
It all started as a joke: “Will people say this is too Taiwanese?” After all, we’re the ones always afraid of being boring or too slow— and yet here we are, gritting our teeth and programming a lineup of gloriously slow cinema. But some stories can’t be skipped. Some lessons, no matter how painful, you just have to get through. Taiwan’s inner angst is like a deep bruise beneath the skin—long-settled and hard to press out. Sometimes, you just need a hot young masseur to work it loose. Whether you end up loving, hating, or feeling nothing at all about Taiwan, we invite you to revisit its joy, rage, sorrow, and everything in between. This film festival is like a sketchy pair of hands passing you crib notes under the table—an attempt to loosen what refuses to unclench, to summarize the unsummarizable.