Debuting director C.B. Yi takes more visual than narrative cues from Hou Hsiao-hsien with Moneyboys, an eye-catching story of a gay sex worker in China whose yearning for the simple comforts of his village and family clash with his profession and the chic urban life he leads. Shot entirely in Taiwan due to obvious censorship issues in the PRC, the film convincingly contrasts the transient ties of generically hip globalized city culture with traditional rural values without demonizing or over-praising either one. Problems however arise from the stereotyped depiction of gay escort life, whose candy-coated rewards – fab clothes, terrific apartments – have almost zero downsides apart from occasional police problems and the family shame. The attractive cast, shown to great advantage by Jean-Louis Vialard’s handsome, color-focused cinematography, help sell the film, but the visual charms together with a moving sense of melancholy can’t entirely disguise certain gaps. Moneyboys premiered in Cannes’ Un Certain Regard and has so far avoided the gay fest ghetto, though distribution will likely be limited to cinemas reliant on the pink euro/dollar/pound.
Fei (Kai Ko) is young, lithe and innocent looking, an ideal combination for a rent boy. Using the name Jackson, he turns tricks under the guidance of the guy he loves, Xiaolai (JC Lin), accommodating well-off clients whose generosity pays for expensive shirts and an enjoyably hedonistic life even if the johns aren’t exactly Adonises. Following a disagreement with one of Fei’s clients, Xiaolai is semi-crippled after a savage beating and Fei is targeted by the cops, forcing him to flee the city.
Fast forward five years (a long time in the professional life of a sex worker), in another city in southern China, and Fei continues to ply his trade, but now there’s a pronounced aura of melancholy about him. The emptiness of this life is weighing heavily, its rootlessness creating an overwhelming feeling of dissatisfaction brought to the fore when he attends a wedding banquet for two friends, one of whom is a fellow gay escort. The bride (Chloe Maayan) knows her husband’s past, but presumably the possibility of raising a family and finding meaning – or at least protective stability – in that kind of connectedness has driven them together. The dinner is tense and the chances of future happiness are slim, but it’s given Fei the impetus (together with a police raid) to travel back to his ancestral village in the hopes of reviving the nurturing sensations of being back in the bosom of the family.
But you can’t go home again. His hard-working sister (also played by Maayan) is happy to see him, yet Fei feels guilt for not having been there when their mother was dying, even though it’s the money he earns as a rent boy that’s kept them all going. At dinner he’s pressed to find a nice village girl and settle down, but then when his uncles get liquored up he’s harangued for being a “pervert” and bringing shame on the family. The night ends badly and Fei returns to the city feeling even more at sea than before. Shortly thereafter his younger childhood playmate Long (Yufan Bai) shows up wanting to stay, hinting at a desire for a more meaningful relationship together with an interest in becoming a fellow sex worker. Fei keeps him at arm’s length: still nursing feelings for Xiaolai and unable to open himself up to being loved, he thinks he can protect Long by pushing him away.
Moneyboys is composed almost entirely of medium shots, which is a curious choice that at times turns frustrating because we want to get closer to these characters, though the story’s pull together with the exceptional performances keep us connected. Fei’s longing for familial approval is subtly interwoven as a leitmotif without the need for some big weepy confession, and his search for meaning in his peripatetic life generates compassion. Ironically it’s the younger Long who understands that gay men and women create their own families, closing ranks against disapproval and forming close-knit, loving bonds.
Given how carefully Yi endows so many of the roles with nuance, it’s odd to find him trafficking in tired notions of glamorous high-end sex work in which the minor distastefulness of a few unappealing clients is far outweighed by an enticingly privileged lifestyle devoid of health issues and other unattractive consequences. Were it not for the deeply sympathetic performance of Kai Ko, this element would have been even more annoying, but the actor’s projection of fragility and warmth, a very tricky combination to get right, gives the film its heart. In addition, Yi appreciates the importance of the actor’s beauty, not simply as eye-candy but as a physical manifestation of something good inside his character.
On the subject of beauty, Yi and d.p. Jean-Louis Vialard privilege color in a refreshing way, recognizing the pleasures that vivid colors give as well as the contrasting sensations derived from their absence. An enigmatic scene at night watching a dancer in slow motion strikingly lit by a street lamp is likely also meant to amplify the mood but feels out of place, while the dance sequence at the end, accompanied by Phum Viphurit’s song “Hello Anxiety,” feels too familiar to achieve a desired catharsis.
Director: C.B. Yi
Screenplay: C.B. Yi
Cast: Kai Ko, Chloe Maayan, Yufan Bai, JC Lin
Producers: Barbara Pichler, Gabriele Kranzelbinder, Guillaume de la Boulaye, Patrick Mao Huang, André Logie
Cinematography: Jean-Louis Vialard
Production design: Huei-Li Liao
Costume design: Zoe Wang
Editing: Dieter Pichler
Music: Yun Xie-Loussignian
Sound: Yun Xie-Loussignian
Production companies: KGP Filmproduktion (Austria), Zorba (France), Flash Forward Entertainment (Taiwan), Panache Productions (Belgium), ARTE France Cinéma, Taipei Film Commission, La Cie Cinématographique
World sales: Totem Films
Venue: Thessaloniki International Film Festival (International competition)
In Mandarin
120 minutes
