Ronin23

At the heart of the film is NJ, the father of a typical Taiwanese family, who finds himself overwhelmed by a cascade of problems familiar to many men in their forties. His wife is struggling emotionally, his mother-in-law has fallen into a coma, his teenage daughter is experiencing first love, and his young son, Yang-Yang, continually invites those around him to see life from unexpected perspectives. It is no coincidence that Yang-Yang appears on most of the film’s posters. Through the boy’s words and actions, Edward Yang conveys the film’s deepest wisdom and central ideas. In Yang-Yang’s relationship with the world—and the world’s relationship with him—we find a profound vision of an existence that is sincere, open, and free from prejudice.

Edward Yang constructs his narrative from every thread that contributes to the protagonist’s crisis, creating a film in which virtually every character could be considered the main character. At times, this makes the film feel demanding, even overwhelming, as its ensemble cast can seem almost too expansive. But this complexity is precisely what gives the film its extraordinary realism.

Yi Yi is a film you can watch once, or twice—or five times. With each viewing, you are likely to discover something new: a memory of first love, an encounter with a long-buried past, a difficult teacher from your school days, or one of those moments when moving forward seemed impossible. Or perhaps you will simply be touched by the film’s quiet melancholy, as gentle as a cool October breeze brushing against your face, stirring memories of something deeply cherished.