I want to dedicate the film “A Brighter Summer Day” (1991), directed by Edward Yang, to my family in Penghu Islands, Taiwan. Penghu Islands, where my mother grew up, is an archipelago of tiny islands in the heart of the Taiwan Strait. It could be one of the first combat sites if mainland China ever chose to invade Taiwan, so it has always been heavily militarized. My mother often recalled that once there were so many soldiers in Penghu that it seemed like half the population was part of the military. She explained that, during their downtime, the soldiers would flock to coffee shops and karaoke boxes to flirt with young girls. However, the soldiers were always on edge and nervously joked about possible invasions from mainland China.
From the colonial era to the Republic of China period, through the Chinese Civil War, martial law and eventual democratization, Taiwan has always been a land of fluctuating tensions. At its heart, the country is home to people striving to carve out their cultural identity, constantly adjusting to a landscape of shifting allegiances and ever-present outside pressures. Taiwan’s story and those of its people are intertwined in ways that make one story impossible to tell without the other.
I have not seen another film capture the essence of Taiwan’s national identity as powerfully as “A Brighter Summer Day.” The film follows a teenage boy, Xiao Si’r (Chang Chen), as he navigates gang conflicts, first love and family struggles under Taiwanese martial law in the 1960s. But “A Brighter Summer Day” is not a simple plot-driven story. Rather, its story is a web of intersecting relationships, events and characters. Every interaction, glance and action in the film is imbued with meaning, from a doctor’s self-deprecating speech to Cat’s (Wong Chi-zan) wonderful performances of Elvis Presley songs. There are more than 100 speaking characters, all of whom have a vital role in this epic Taiwanese narrative.
In the film, teenage gangs perform thrilling performances of Presley’s songs, idolizing him as a symbol of rebellion and freedom. As I watched these characters perform the songs on screen while sitting in my college dorm room across the world last December, it struck me that I had been listening to the film’s soundtrack since I was 4 years old. Every summer, my family visited Penghu Islands. We drove around in my uncle’s car, which had a disc of this film’s soundtrack stuck in the CD player. The soundtrack played on loop, filling the air with music as we went about our day. But nobody ever told me that this soundtrack was from one of the greatest films ever made. I can still recite every lyric line by line. To me and my brother, we were just listening to fantastical and mysterious Taiwanese renditions of Presley’s greatest hits. Those songs stayed with me for years, and whenever I hear one, I am not in the United States, but instead, I am in the Penghu Islands, with its lush forests, the cool sea breeze and the wind-swept coast.
And in those memories of the place and people who make Taiwan my home, I see echoes of “A Brighter Summer Day.” My mother and grandmother lived through the shifting tides of Taiwan’s history, just as the film’s characters did.
Art, like “A Brighter Summer Day,” is never confined to a single meaning — its resonance shifts across time, places and personal histories. So, when I think of “A Brighter Summer Day,” I don’t just think of the film. I think of my family in Taiwan, their history and the beautifully complex story of the island itself.
