Riding the wave of the new comedies coming out of Taiwan, Sweet Alibis is a sort of genetic mutation which maintains elements of entertainment but, at the same time, it evolves into a new genre of police feature film full of black humour and the suspense of a thriller, rather rare traits in Taiwanese cinema. No holds are barred, though, with regards to parody, slapstick and heavy language, but it never slides into vulgarity. On the contrary, its emotional detachment due to the witty element, makes for comic moments during tear-jerking scene and brings tears to the eyes during the more absurd one.
The film’s success lies in this feeling of not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
Sweet Alibis opens with the sudden death of a girl’s dog; the case is assigned to two officers who are as different as night and day: the male is solitary, troubled and dishevelled, while the female is the daughter of the police chief, a rookie, but enthusiastic.
The pair clash at every turn, but between arguments they manage to uncover all sorts of clues: a married couple who are deeply in love, twins who are total opposites, a chaotic love triangle, a mafia clan which runs a dating agency…
The various plotlines see the numerous leads intersect, but at the bottom of every event, be it the transport or sale of drugs, murder or revenge, there lies the purest sentiment of them all: love.
From Make Up to Sweet Alibis, the director Lien Yi-chi has broken the chains of traditional new Taiwanese cinema, to offer the best of himself in terms of commercial cinema, breaking new grounds in style and content and etching out a space for his type of cinema.
Especially when it comes to dealing with difficult issues like sexual identity, death and murder, Lien and the screenwriter Yu Shang-Min have managed to come up with unparalleled perspectives, aiming their spotlight at social taboos which the wider public fear, and even transforming embarrassment into comedy.
Sweet Alibis is no doubt loosely based on news events of the past few years, yet thanks to the use of satire and compassion, the film manages to inspire sympathy for the caricatured characters, such as the police chief who breaks wind, the mafia wife who knits, the female swat who falls in love with a tough guy, etc.
The cast of the film, like the storyline, is an upending of reality.
Alec Su, whose career has taken off in the past few years in China, play the typical middle-aged Taiwanese cop; Ariel Lin and Matt Wu, who might otherwise have added an air of refinement to the picture, also downplay their image in absurd scenes, especially the latter who plays a double role of twins with outstanding results. In this way, the film is not only enriched with a comic verve which plays on the ambiguity of the dramatic and the facetious, but it also transmits an unintentional tone of self-irony.
To conclude, the film’s soundtrack is made up of reprises of famous TV jingles from 20 or 30 years back.
These include Laotian Youyan which, in the new version by Alec Su, besides diluting the moral tone of the original, also helps to contribute to the general retro effect of the film.