TIFF 2024
▞ Introduction
▞ 8. Band of Outsiders: On Neo Sora’s Happyend
▞ 7. The Soul of an Artist: On Hong Sang-soo’s By The Stream
▞ 6. The Two Maidens: On Trương Minh Quý’s Viet and Nam
▞ 5. The Master and Her Muse: On Jia Zhang-ke’s Caught by the Tides
▞ 4. Self-Studies: On Sook-Yin Lee’s Paying for It
▞ 3. The Inheritance: On All Shall Be Well and The Paradise of Thorns
▞ 2. A World of Pain: On Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s Cloud
▞ 1. Mise en abyme: On Lou Ye’s An Unfinished Film
“Have you heard of Cha?”
We were walking along the city streets when my friend turned to ask me this question.
I had been complaining about how hard it was to get published nowadays—self-motivation only powers you so far, for so many years—and that I felt like my creative life wasn’t reaching its potential. I wanted to write about a film I’d recently seen that had made the rusty wheels of my imagination turn. I wanted a reason to write that went beyond my own desires, one that involved the desires of others too. I wanted the time and space to collaborate, so that my own practice could become suffused with their essences. Yet, in the heat of editing—when your ego is still emotionally attached to the work and all you crave is praise, not change—you long for your independence back.
It’s a delicate dance a writer must enact daily, a dance in which, for the most part, you are alone on stage. That’s why I always seem to want to bring in the words of other writers—it can be lonely up there in the light that exposes oneself to the world—but every now and then the director—the editor—with their perceptive gaze, makes an alteration here and an adjustment there, ironing out the wrinkles—or gratuitous digressions—that went overlooked during that jittery excision period before submitting a draft.
That night, when I returned home, I discovered Cha and the work that Tammy Lai-Ming Ho—our esteemed Editor-in-Chief and poet in her own right—has consistently, tirelessly, and remarkably been doing since the early 2000s. As I read piece after piece, I felt both intimidated—many of these insanely intelligent writers come from academia—and envious: how dare they have such great taste? I wanted to write about that film too! And so, within me was born the desire to write something that could stand alongside these voices. In April, my essay on Huang Ju and Ryuji Otsuka’s Stonewalling appeared in Cha, marking a turning point in my writing life: I was a fiction writer who suddenly found himself drawn to film criticism; and, oddly enough, it felt like a natural, seamless transition.
Towards the end of summer, another friend—a film critic for a publication in China—encouraged me to apply for media accreditation for the Toronto International Film Festival, something I had never dreamed of doing. I brought the idea to Tammy, who was, gratefully, receptive and excited. One of my main goals, I told her, was to expand my reach and try to cover as many films from Asian countries and languages as possible. Over the course of 10 days at the beginning of September, I achieved that, watching films from China, Hong Kong, Thailand, Japan, Taiwan, the Philippines, Vietnam, Korea, India, and Sri Lanka.
I want to take you on a grand cinematic tour and learn a few things along the way. With the reviews that will appear in the upcoming weeks, I have many hopes. I’d like to bring noteworthy films to readers, to offer them a way into the film, a way to think about the film, and perhaps to teach you something you can keep in your critical pocket, to inspire thought. But, on the other hand, I’m open to the fact that my views might be challenged, criticized, and countered. The best way to respond to any sensation, in my opinion, is not in the comments section, but by writing a rebuttal, which, of course, requires its own response.
Even though I watched 40 films—not all of which were Asian-related—I’ve only written about the ones that resonated with me. I cannot force myself to write about something I don’t feel connected to. A work of art, if it is alive, should contribute to the creation of other works, in conversation with other voices. I hope you enjoy reading about these films as much as I enjoyed watching and writing about them. And in the coming year, as they are released in theatres wherever you live, I hope you revisit these pieces—or find them anew—and that you take it upon yourself to contribute to the continuum, to give as much as you can back to the literary republic.
Everyone’s opinions matter, but an artist does the work to make them count.
Shall we begin?
How to cite: Nagendrarajah, Nirris. “Introduction: TIFF 2024.” Cha: An Asian Literary Journal, 22 Oct. 2024, chajournal.blog/2024/10/22/tiff2024.
Nirris Nagendrarajah (he/him) is a Toronto-based writer whose work has appeared in paloma, Polyester, Fête Chinoise, In the Mood Magazine, Tamil Culture, in addition to Substack. He is currently at work on a novel about waiting. [All contributions by Nirris Nagendrarajah.]
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