In director Alan Yang's Emmy winning speech for Master of None in 2016, he said that despite there being 17 million Asian-Americans in this country, there was still a lack of representation in television and film. Tigertail is undoubtedly a step towards that direction.
Set over four different time periods across both Taiwan and New York, Tigertail is an immigrant story at heart. When Pin-Jui (played by Tzi Ma) is still a teenager, he reluctantly enters into an arranged marriage as a means to provide money for his ailing mother. He leaves behind his girlfriend and emigrates to New York. After a few years, Pin-Jui and his wife have a daughter of their own, of whom Pin-Jui has a fractured relationship.
From one angle, this immigrant story is formulaic. Parents, with nothing in common, struggle in a foreign land for the sake of their children. But from another angle, Yang shows us nuances and subtleties that demand a deeper inspection. The miniature piano that Pin-Jui scavenges for his wife but remains unplayed over the years. Pin-Jui repeatedly opening and closing the metal gate to his small grocery store through the seasons, showing the passage of time. Pin-Jui's daughter crying in the backseat after being scolded after a piano recital gone wrong.
One nuance that reverberates throughout the film is language. The film features three different languages: English, Mandarin Chinese, and Taiwanese Hokkien. Each language represents a different generation: Pin-Jui's mother exclusively speaks Taiwanese, Pin-Jui primarily speaks Chinese, and Pin-Jui's daughter speaks English. For the entire film, all of the dialogue between Pin-Jui and his daughter is in English. It's not until her father brings her to where he grew up and finally tells her the story of his upbringing: How he gave up his life for another. It's only here, in the final moments of the film where she speaks Chinese for the first time and asks, "What was her name?"
Covering four different time periods in the span of a mere ninety minutes was an ambitious task, and for that reason, the movie feels particularly rushed. Perhaps more attention could have been placed on capturing the relationship between the father and daughter: This has always been a core piece of what it means to be a child of immigrants. Furthermore, the stitching of scenes across different time periods don't always translate well to Pin-Jui's character development as an adult. It's only until the final fifteen minutes of the film do you see this unfold.
Overall, Yang is able to capture the right emotions in his directorial debut and tells a classic story in his own way. The subtleties, reflecting both an Asian-American heritage and relatable familial scenes establish a fulfilling level of depth to the film. True to his own words, you can't help but wonder what Yang will do next.
Set over four different time periods across both Taiwan and New York, Tigertail is an immigrant story at heart. When Pin-Jui (played by Tzi Ma) is still a teenager, he reluctantly enters into an arranged marriage as a means to provide money for his ailing mother. He leaves behind his girlfriend and emigrates to New York. After a few years, Pin-Jui and his wife have a daughter of their own, of whom Pin-Jui has a fractured relationship.
From one angle, this immigrant story is formulaic. Parents, with nothing in common, struggle in a foreign land for the sake of their children. But from another angle, Yang shows us nuances and subtleties that demand a deeper inspection. The miniature piano that Pin-Jui scavenges for his wife but remains unplayed over the years. Pin-Jui repeatedly opening and closing the metal gate to his small grocery store through the seasons, showing the passage of time. Pin-Jui's daughter crying in the backseat after being scolded after a piano recital gone wrong.
One nuance that reverberates throughout the film is language. The film features three different languages: English, Mandarin Chinese, and Taiwanese Hokkien. Each language represents a different generation: Pin-Jui's mother exclusively speaks Taiwanese, Pin-Jui primarily speaks Chinese, and Pin-Jui's daughter speaks English. For the entire film, all of the dialogue between Pin-Jui and his daughter is in English. It's not until her father brings her to where he grew up and finally tells her the story of his upbringing: How he gave up his life for another. It's only here, in the final moments of the film where she speaks Chinese for the first time and asks, "What was her name?"
Covering four different time periods in the span of a mere ninety minutes was an ambitious task, and for that reason, the movie feels particularly rushed. Perhaps more attention could have been placed on capturing the relationship between the father and daughter: This has always been a core piece of what it means to be a child of immigrants. Furthermore, the stitching of scenes across different time periods don't always translate well to Pin-Jui's character development as an adult. It's only until the final fifteen minutes of the film do you see this unfold.
Overall, Yang is able to capture the right emotions in his directorial debut and tells a classic story in his own way. The subtleties, reflecting both an Asian-American heritage and relatable familial scenes establish a fulfilling level of depth to the film. True to his own words, you can't help but wonder what Yang will do next.