Film Review: The Time of Huan Nan (2024) by Leading Lee

“Do you think this time, people will accept us?”

Do you have control over your own destiny, are you controlled by your fate, or are you a mere puppet in the hands of the gods? This is a question all time-travelling films implicitly ask and explicitly posed by “The Time of Huan Nan” – a heartfelt, thoughtful queer melodrama written and directed by Leading Lee.

Hsia Teng Hung plays Chen Yao Hua, a young man whose father, Bao Ding, has seemingly gone mad with despair for mysterious reasons. Accidentally travelling through time back to 1991, he joins the younger version of his father and the latter’s two friends, soon forming with them a happy gang of close, intimate friends. Unfortunately, fate, or the gods, have little happiness in store for them, as Yao Hua slowly learns more about and takes an active part in the tragedy behind his father’s life.

Although it is named after the food market in Taipei’s Wanhua district, “The Time of Huan Nan” has little to do with that famed location except, perhaps, in a symbolical way. Instead, its heart belongs to the intense friendship between three young men and a young woman, and especially to the budding, heartbreaking gay attraction between An Jian (Chu Meng Hsuan) and Bao Ding (Edison Song). This makes the film a strong entry in the potent BL (boys’ love) wave animating Taiwan’s cinema today.

At a time when Taiwanese society was still harshly patriarchal (things are still far from perfect today of course), the film makes you understand how nearly impossible such queer love was. The story is at heart a beautiful call for tolerance and acceptance of difference and one’s true self, using drama, teen romance and humor to tackle its ambitious themes. At the same time, the film grapples with issues of self-determination, as these young people must confront the age-old decision of what to do with their lives. As one character puts it, “You decide your own future. Or get married and be happy.” But will society let you decide for yourself?

Both An Jian and Bao Ding must grapple with their parents’ authority and what society expects of them, especially Bao Ding whose strict father is in charge of the historic Bangka Qingshan Temple. Bao Ding fulfils special duties helping in communicating with the gods, which puts him in an awkward position given his secret sexual orientation. Does god really love despite class and gender, as Hsia Teng Hung confidently states?

Perhaps the most beautiful scene is when Bao Ding passionately intercedes with the gods in slow motion during a ceremony. His secret lover, An Jian, holds his waist from behind, and the scene remarkably manages to convey both a symbolic sexual intercourse and reverence for the gods, tradition and family.

To truly appreciate “The Time of Huan Nan”, one should focus on the sheer visual beauty and the high emotionality of such scenes, and not on narrative details, as little in the story really makes sense. From the way the protagonist travels through time, to his relationship to his aged father or the ease and rapidity with which he is adopted by his new friends, there is little even remotely believable or logical in the plot.

In keeping with its melodramatic nature, the story keeps adding layer upon layer of drama and might be going too far in that direction, especially in the last third of the film when events turn tragic. The time travel mechanics of the plot become uselessly confused, and at 2 hours and 13 minutes the film would have greatly benefited by trimming some elements of its story, including the half-baked romance between Yao Hua and Kang Min (Wang Yu Ping).

On the other hand, countless beautiful shots and gorgeous lighting enhance the handsomeness of all four lead actors. They all turn in solid performances, especially Edison Song who lies at the emotional center of the story and of almost each frame. The direction is dynamic and resourceful, with plenty of thoughtful camera angles, including beautiful top shots that seem to convey the gods’ own point of view on our protagonists and their beautiful, though fragile, lives.

Can one decide one’s own future then? The film is thoughtful enough to let you answer that question for yourself, although its own ending is a bittersweet one. The past might already be written, but the future is wide open.