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By Merle Bertrand | February 13, 2001

What the hell was that? That seemed to be not only my stunned reaction to this pointless, ponderous and nearly impenetrable all-too-long-even-at-only-twelve-minutes short film, but the audience’s reaction as well.
“I only wish the best for you,” is a dying mother’s last words to her son. I kinda wished she’d have taken him out with her. Most of this film consists of a repetitious, interminably slow zoom in on the same photograph; a picture of the mother and her son smiling over a birthday cake. The audience sees this shot so often, I’m surprised I can’t recall how many candles are on the damned thing.
Director Tung Wang Wu breaks up this monotony with equally monotonous scenes of the son brooding, naked, in his bedroom. There are clearly some incestuous undercurrents at work here, and I want no part of it.
This is self-indulgent art-crap filmmaking at its worst. Hopefully Wu will only indulge himself writing bad poetry in a coffee house somewhere from now on and spare the rest of us from any more nonsense like this.
“And Now Happiness”? Happiness was when those two glorious words, “THE END” faded up on the screen at last. That made me freakin’ ecstatic.

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