Help Me, Eros (2007)

Just what I expected

How sad is this?

The film may be flawed, but its message is not.

Exactly the movie you think it is, but not the movie you want it to be.

It seems you have to understand Taiwan to be able to "get" this movie. Perhaps there's the relationship between the city of Kaohsiung vs Taipei; maybe Kaohsiungnese feel they do all the dirty work and Taipei reaps all the glamor. I dunno.Then there's the scene in a restaurant with the river in the background. How do we get the irony of him stalking who he thinks is the love of his life, if we don't know that the river is called the Love river? And how do the Kaohsiangnese feel about the empty, abandoned Dream Mall? Just another failed business prospect or the symbol of their fear of helplessness/loneliness? How do Taiwanese feel about eel? The same way an American feels about chicken? OK, just kidding on this one ^_^ Is there a significance to someone eating in front of restaurant board that shows the picture of a cobra? What were the papers raining down? Lottery papers? Stocks/ company shares receipts? Does it signify what I think it signifies? >Never mind, I read Aaron Mannino's review< *_*The movie has some great shots; the 2 grannies window-shopping stocks, the river as seen from the restaurant, the plantation, the scene where the husband and his friend were dressing with a red painting as a backdrop, the lonely pot of "weed" that now looks just like weed, symbolizing his descent, the brilliant ^_^ billiard scene, the brilliant but icky eel in the bathtub scene :-p Watch it on a large screen so you can enjoy the scenes.

I've got to admit that while I find it difficult to enjoy the works of Tsai Ming-liang and his protégé Lee Kang-sheng, there's still something about it that still draws me to their movies, perhaps in a determined attempt to try and cut through the usual droning of themes like alienation and loneliness, to discover if there's anything else that I could connect to and hang on for the duration of the movie. I thought I'd find something here, but unfortunately it degenerated into something quite messy midway, before some redemption in the finale afforded some relief.Telling the story of Ah Jie, Lee himself plays the protagonist who in a stroke of a bear market, was reduced to a pauper, having his assets like his home and car impounded by the authorities. Does it deter him? Of course not, as he still goes back to the pound to drive away his vehicle, and continues to ignore the seal outside his apartment. He sells his belongings in an effort to try and raise whatever little cash he can, and in his idle time, he tends to his high-grade homegrown marijuana plants, which he cultivates and smokes to get high in his own little escapism from the hardships of life.In an attempt to connect, he befriends plenty of betel-nut beauties (one played by Yin Shin as Shin), and stalks whom he thinks is Chyi, a lady he got to know from his calls to a sex-chat hotline, allowing him to fantasize about the hot chick with the hot voice. It's really quite pathetic though, because I thought it's always ironic that hot voices over a telephone line belong to someone other than can be labelled shallowly with the term "hot". Or at least Help Me Eros plays along this line of generalization. The betel-nut beauties on the other hand, is a trade that follows the mantra of skimpier clothes leading to better patronage, and some 10 years ago when I was in Taiwan, this is a phenomenon that's quite true, as you pass by booths set up along highways, and these ladies in their various state of undress, try to entice you for a stop to get your regular packet of cigarettes, or to get into the habit of chewing the equivalent of gum.But this is not just a story about Ah Jie, as the real Chyi (played by Jane Liao) is the other character placed under the spotlight. She's horizontally challenged, no thanks to the various delicacies that her cook husband Ah Rong (Dennis Nieh) concocts as part of his television food programme. And indeed, it is this portion of the movie that I found much more intriguing, as it was almost documentary like. There were some nicely down parallels between how the food was prepared and designed, and the state of the characters. Like when we're introduced to Ah Jie, we see a live fish being slaughtered in an inhumane manner, clobbered in the head, before having its body cut out, and when presented on the plate, it's still bloody alive, gasping for air. I can't imagine anyone having the stomach to eat it, and this desperation in staying alive, prepares us for Ah Jie's character who is at wits end.Chyi too finds herself pretty lonely with a husband who perhaps found a new love (with a guy), and while she dispenses advice over the phone, she's clearly in need of some herself. Lacking intimacy in her life, she had to resort to getting it on with a bathtub of eels. Yup, you heard me right. In fact, those expecting some eroticism might find a number of such scenes here being quite unsexy, despite its R21 rating, perhaps having those highly offensive ones edited away. Some old uncles expected to see plenty of naked flesh, but in art film fashion, these have been dealt with so nicely that they can't help but to walk off.I learnt for starters to appreciate such a film, not to try and look at it as a whole, but to enjoy the moment, where strengths of individual scenes surpass one trying to find deeper meaning in something. Particularly enjoyable scenes include one which Ah Jie and Shin go on a joyride and having their pictures taken (you must check this out), and the ending which like many other surreal scenes in the movie, paints a very dream-like, picturesque postcard portrait.

Lee Kang-Sheng's measured somnambulism arrives as a sexual novelty sapped of eroticism, settles in like a lingering fever dream of aggressive imagery and departs as an affecting malaise, deepening with its pervasive languor. Writer-director Lee's second film under the apprenticeship of his mentor and producer, Tsai Ming-liang, is one of similar phases and concepts – city isolation, sexual disengagement, spiritual disenchantment, deprivation and drollness. They are also decorated with similar technical approaches typified by a slow-burning static camera, recurring motifs and intense flourishes of non-verbal actions that shock, awe and delight.But where Tsai's films revel in their metaphoric absences, Lee dwells on superficial excesses in "Help Me Eros". Through a methodical deconstruction of role-playing, desire, delusion and despair, Lee finds absurdity in its most raw and indecent. Taipei's neon-lit streets feel alive yet infected with rot, jangling with vociferousness and temptations with the city's glaring financial risks find salience in the hawking of promises rooted in sexual satisfactions and instant reverie. The mutual nihilism of the city and its decay is seen through an uprooted yuppie, Ah Jie (Lee), once a successful stock trader fell by a bad exchange and now living precariously by pawning his things while crossing and using his repossessed apartment and car.Ah Jie lives the remainder of his previous life indulging in sexual fantasy and wanton marijuana use that he grows in his closet. Having fallen out of society, desperately in need of validation, calls a suicide hotline and becomes infatuated by the woman who talks to him. The woman, an overweight and depressed Chyi (Jane Liao), forms the film's sadder, parallel story of a deaden society's need to feel something – anything – to prove that it is still alive. This is where genuine humanity can be sensed behind the lens and through the film's pro forma gratuitously explicit scenes. Ah Jie pursues this joyless tract through acrobatic encounters with scantily clad, drug chasing betelnut salesgirls. The difference lies in the former's need for physical intimacy and the latter's pursuit of ritualistic depersonalisation.With "Help Me Eros", Lee trades on Tsai's (serving as the set designer) art-house stock here for an appreciate core audience, but the film is bold and intriguing in its own right. The approach remains Tsai's but its glorious conflagration of striking aesthetics and insistent contemplations feel almost quaint and altogether poignant.

If one has seen films made by Tsai Ming-Liang, one would recognize Lee Kang Sheng, the actor and director of Help Me Eros, as he is the main character in all his films. Thus, it is no surprise that Help Me Eros feels like an extension of Tsai's films, as it mimics his style and atmosphere. Sadly, Lee Kang Sheng has not learned his mentor's directing touch. As a result, his work becomes a muddling piece of junk and I consider it a complete failure.In Help Me Eros, the film opens with a memorable opening scene, similar to Tsai's films, and appears to head in a promising direction. However, by the end of the film, the film bored me to death, as I struggle to finish the film, and I ask the question: Is this an art film, or a soft-core porn film? Even though its style is reminiscent of an art film, the director is unable to convey a message to the audience. At the same time, although the explicit sex scenes definitely belongs to the porn film category, they do not go far enough. Instead, they become out-of-place and unnecessary. Help Me Eros, in the end, is a hybrid soft-core porn and art film. Sadly, the result fails to deliver the mystique of either an art film or the "satisfaction" and "fulfillment" one get from a porn film. It is just a messy piece of work.There is absolutely no point to this film. Don't bother with this film. Check out Tsai Ming-Liang's films instead.