Golden Orchid Nominees

These five films are the nominees for HIFF's top award, the Halekulani Golden Orchid, in the category of narrative feature. The award recognizes artistic and technical excellence and contributions to cross-cultural understanding. Jurors are Rick Kinsel, executive director of the Vilcek Foundation; Roy Lee, producer of "The Ring, "The Grudge" and "The Departed"; and Georja Skinner, chief officer of the state's Creative Industries Division.

For reviews of the Golden Orchid documentary nominees, see this week's HiLife section.

'Shi Qi (Seventeen)'

The truth gradually emerges as Shi Qi insists on leaving their home village, and his mother accompanies him on a two-day hike to show him the way out of the remote area.

Chen is the heart of this film, masterful as always in her understated portrayal of a woman trying so hard to hold onto her son. Especially telling are the scenes in which she cooks elaborate meals for him, then places choice pieces into his rice bowl in a quiet expression of her devotion - a devotion he won't acknowledge. He won't even call her "Mum."

But much about this film is lost in translation, literally. The subtitles seem at times to be rough approximations of the actual dialogue, which is sparse to begin with. "How come he has this crossness," Chen says at one point," and "I must concern on you. I am your mother." The result is that "Shi Qi" just doesn't pack much emotional punch.

It's pretty, it's moving at some points, but it's a film best enjoyed in the native tongue.

'Hao Mao (good cats)'

The intended irony unfolds with each layer of the story. Luo works as a driver for Boss Peng, who runs an unscrupulous real estate business. Though Peng repeatedly tells his victims, "Your well-being will come before my profits," he sets fire to a building he purchased in order to oust residents who didn't want to sell or move. It's sufficient to note that everyone pays for his sins here.

Along the way, Luo drifts to a prostitute for comfort away from his wife, who remains perpetually disappointed in her husband. "What kind of job is it?" she asks of his employment. "A lackey. Hired muscle. Your stupid relatives are the only ones who are impressed. Who else looks up to you?" Although he is the luminary of his own bourgeois family, his wife's educated parents (who house them) do not hide their disgust for Luo's drinking, smoking, abbreviated education and contentment with his mediocre status.

In an unorthodox addition - a modern take on Socrates - director Ying Liang infuses occasional sequences in which a hard-rock band sings philosophical lyrics about whether corruption is endemic, the relationship between body and soul and how to escape the world.

The title comes from a saying favored by politician Deng Xiaopeng: It doesn't matter if a cat is black or white; if it catches mice, it's a good cat, meaning that the results justify everything. The director manages to weave the cat metaphor throughout, even raising the question (and film motif) about the often indiscernible line between fighting and mating.

'Junkisa Isobe (Cafe Isobe)'

Sakiko (Riisa Naka) keeps nagging him about going back to work, to no avail. But inspiration hits one day, and with no experience, Yujiro decides he wants to open a coffee cafe, which turns out to be a disaster when no customers show up for days, unwilling to sit in a place that reads simultaneously garish and granny, with fussy wallpaper, rabbit fur around the cash register, animal-print counters and tablecloths, a disco ball and other signs of dubious taste.

The turnaround comes with the appearance of a mysterious air-headed woman, Motoko (Kumiko Aso), who attracts the attention of male patrons when Yujiro asks her to don a Lolita-esque costume that Sakiko, who also works in the cafe, refuses to wear.

Sakiko gives the film its tenor, passing through like a storm cloud, disgusted by her father's reckless ineptitude.

"Cafe Isobe" turns out to be a sweet coming-of-age tale for all parties involved, a reminder that being an adult doesn't mean being a grown-up, and being a precocious teen doesn't mean one is too old to learn from a parent's - even a bad parent's - experience.

Unlike American comedies, which tend to bash the viewer over the head with puerile jokes, verbal quips and slapstick, the Japanese director finds humor in the minutiae of daily occurrences and miscues in human interaction, such that some might fail to see the overall humor in the drama.

'Gone Shopping'

Clara's story loosely intersects with that of Aaron, a surly 23-year-old who hangs out at the mall instead of going to work, lives with his parents "In this silent anxiety" and learns, awkwardly and painfully, about relationships. The irony is palpable when he and his rebellious friends criticize yuppies like Clara yet try to understand (or escape) themselves in the very same place - albeit in the arcade or sword store rather than among designer clothes.

An 8-year-old Indian girl named Renu, whose parents abandon her in the 24-hour mall, is the other focus of loss and attempted redemption in a setting full of glitter, anonymity and misplaced hope, where bliss can be purchased - but only temporarily.

'Hai Jiao Qi Hao (Cape No. 7)'

Directed by Te-Sheng Wai and shot primarily in Hengchun, Taiwan, this romantic comedy starts with Aga (Van Fan) failing to make it in Taipei's band scene. Defeated, he goes back home to Hengchun to take up his elderly uncle's postal route.

At the same time, a past-her-prime Japanese model, Tomoko (Chie Tanaka), is in town recruiting for a local opening act for a superstar Japanese beach concert to be held there. Using the "Seven Samurai" framework, Tomoko's motley crew of unlikely rock stars include a preteen church pianist who insists on ending every song with an amen, an elderly uncle with a broken leg and an out-of-tune banjo, and a feisty police officer with a penchant for guitar licks and brawling.

The story runs through all the cliches: There's the disastrous first rehearsal, things coming together, then bam, the internal power struggle and the band's leader suddenly losing hope in it all.

What works is how quirky, diverse and goofy the entire cast is and how fast the jokes fly. What doesn't work, however, is a loosely related parallel story of post-World War II love between a teacher and, surprise, a woman named Tomoko, told through recited letters that Aga finds.

It's a bit melodramatic, like the angsty Aga character, and breaks the flow and mood. Fortunately the movie overall is like the band's decided-upon sound: poppy, punky, predictable yet playful.