At last, around mid-April 2024, Ho Chi Minh City got its first international film festival. It was massive and bright. The red carpet was walked, the film market was run. A new young breed of critics were discovered. Cinephiles met their cinema idols. It ended as scheduled, and declared that it will return next year.
That being said, at the time of writing, there is still no news to share about HIFF 2. Could priorities have shifted to instead create events for the 50th anniversary of Vietnam’s reunification? That sounds logical enough, and all the more reason to make some announcements to move it to a later month – or even take a gap year. Perhaps I’ll hear or see something closer to April? I really hope so.
Before HIFF’s debut, the everyday cinema circuit experienced many new records. Our major film season of Tết saw multi-hyphenate Trấn Thành again at the top spot with the drama-romance-comedy (and, in one sequence, horror?!) Mai. Then, after ticket sales hit 551 billion VND (nearly 22 million USD), way above the coveted 100 billion trăm tỷ bar, the story of a reluctant masseuse who has to wrestle with her past and future, became Vietnam’s top film of all time.
On substance alone, Mai proved that audiences (in general, and especially local) reacted favourably to titles possessing an ensemble cast, domestic or collectivist drama, and a highly commercial, fun-first sheen. Interestingly, there was a night-and-day difference between the production’s earliest promotional materials – more minimal and muted, and more artful – and those that appeared closer to release. Frankly, I don’t think people will mind if I retitle the film Mai and Her Building (plus Her Workplace along with Her Lover’s Family)!
Mai’s success was outstanding enough to run laps around its competitors, which also chose to debut on the first day of Tết. These included Nhất Trung’s comedy sequel Gặp lại chị bầu, Hoàng Tuấn Cường’s ode-to-cải lương dramedy Sáng Đèn and Lê Hoàng’s erotic drama Trà. Unlike the first title, which was inches away from 93 billion VND (3.6 million USD), the latter two had to move their release date. Then, unlike Sáng Đèn, Trà chose not to return to theatres after the move after a poor reception! The film about a girl pretending to be a maid to continue her affair with a bigwig finished its theatrical run after four days with 1.6 billion VND (nearly 63,000 USD). It might just be me, but I’d say the project was the product of the need to be “trendy”, as stories about third-wheelers were going viral all the time at the time.
On that note, based on Trà’s reception and earnings, Vietnamese film producers should think thrice before integrating short-lived trends into films let alone using them as the creative foundations. Please? What are we making, big-screen stories or just reels to be distributed widely?
Before I could get the answer to this big question, though, I had to stare down a different big question. At a time when matters arising between critics and the makers of the critiqued works can get incredibly personal and explosive, what narratives about journalism, creativity, integrity, quality and the like are being told in Vietnam?
In the last half of April, the domestic drama Cái giá của hạnh phúc (The Price of Happiness) came out. It then became a battleground between a film critic and the lead actress (who’s also the executive producer). In response to Lâm Lê’s comparison of the film to “telenovelas of the ‘80s and ‘90s” on social media, Xuân Lan asked if he had “seen the film, or just did not get it?” She even implied his writing was conceived to harm the film’s sales; he had to write another post explaining the flaws in detail. Popping up like daisies throughout all this are discourses about critics lacking respect for hardworking creatives (or, who needs film critics anyway?) or creatives lacking clarity about the role of criticism (or, who needs films from the self-indulgent clique anyway?).
The Price of Happiness finished its local theatrical run with 26.3 billion VND (1 million USD). Some notable names in the production include renowned actor Thái Hòa (nicknamed by many “king of the box office”) and rising actress Uyển Ân (who is also filmmaker Trấn Thành’s sister).
On the other hand, Một điều ước (One Wish), another late-April release, and the seventh entry in Lý Hải’s Face Off series, scored nearly 483 billion VND (19 million USD), the second highest box office figure of 2024. The success further validates the local industry’s “adage” that “Tết is for Trấn Thành, April 30 is for Lý Hải, the rest is for everyone else.” With a story about an elderly woman longing to reunite with her children and grandchildren, would you like to guess what’s the (chief) genre of this blockbuster? Here’s a hint: it’s the same as the ragged-versus-rich Cô Dâu Hào Môn (The Trophy Bride), the Southwest/miền Tây-minded Hai Muối (Salt’s Papa), the supernatural-tinged Betting with Ghost (Làm giàu với ma), the school-aged romance Ngày xưa có một chuyện tình (Once Upon a Love Story), and the year-end’s surprise hit Khương Ngọc’s Chị Dâu (The Real Sister).
All the dramatic titles named in the last paragraph feature in the top 10 Vietnamese films with the highest ticket sales of 2024.
Vietnamese cinema in 2024 did introduce newer flavours to the scene, but regrettably they didn’t pay off. Some highlights: after a two-year delay, the survival horror-creature feature Móng Vuốt (Claws) from Lê Thanh Sơn only scored close to four billion VND (157,000 USD). Despite the novel “mystery box” approach to its marketing, the multiverse comedy Giải Cứu Anh “Thầy” (“Master” of Manners) netted nearly 140 million VND (5,000 USD). The anthology “B4S” – Trước Giờ Yêu made a timid 3.87 billion VND (151,000 USD) despite a wholesome need to add to the topic of sexuality and relationships. The crime-actioner Domino: Lối Thoát Cuối Cùng (The Domino File), which had extensive scenes shot in the Houston, Texas area, got just under 600 million VND (23,500 USD).
Not even reliance on modern techniques and known cultural imprints brought Võ Thanh Hòa’s feature-length adaptation of the bestselling novel Kính vạn hoa (The Prism of Youth: To Catch a Ghost) and Lý Minh Thắng’s take on the legendary Công Tử Bạc Liêu (The Prince of Bac Lieu) the win they had hoped for (6 billion VND (235,000 USD) for the former; 36 billion VND (1.4 million USD) for the latter).
But in a surprising move, it was announced that Công Tử Bạc Liêu will have a spin-off sequel. The project will focus on the sister character traveling to Saigon to open an áo dài business that over time becomes the main setting of Cô Ba Sài Gòn (The Tailor)! Trần Bửu Lộc and Kay Nguyễn’s film was shown at FEFF in 2018.
On top of this, films that earned international acclaim returned home to a tepid fanfare. Ticket sales for both Phạm Ngọc Lân’s black-and-white Cu li Never Cries and Dương Diệu Linh’s comedy-fantasy Don’t Cry, Butterfly, despite winning awards in Berlin and Venice, did not reach one billion VND (39,000 USD). Does it still ring true that a Vietnamese film will only receive a hero’s welcome when there is some association with the Oscars, or even a win? Or it might all just be unlucky timing? Some say that these films might have been “too arthouse” or “not Vietnamese enough” for local audiences. The need for a film featuring a local story with global storytelling continues (even if, personally, I think that’s what Don’t Cry, Butterfly is).
Meanwhile, the Cannes-picked Viet and Nam from Trương Minh Quý was banned.
There were patterns amidst all the fireworks. To begin with, Vietnamese cinema has been garnering more attention and interest than ever, based on this writer’s own experiences meeting industry figures at festivals and – most especially – serving on the QCinema jury that awarded Cu li Never Cries, Don’t Cry, Butterfly and Viet and Nam. There is now an active need to be aware of what we are developing, executing, et al, as the eyes of the world are truly upon us! My hope is that our policies and regulations will reflect this, so local creatives can have the space to grow more confidence, earn more support, and be comfortable as they produce their work. before introducing it to audiences abroad. Also, as nice as it is to hold talks about the new “Vietnamese New Wave,” it would be even nicer to host more discussions about how to sustain the wave’s visibility. Perhaps!
The horror genre could even be the main driver of this potential wave. Besides being new tellings of popular legends, box office toppers Ma Da: The Drowning Spirit, Cám (The Sisters) and Linh miêu: Quỷ nhập tràng (Spirit Whisker: The Revenant) introduced audiences to cultural elements that are underrepresented, like the job of recovering the bodies of drowning victims, or picking filming locations being pushed to become new cinematic destinations. Two extra details worth noting: Ma Da (127 billion VND, or nearly five million USD) got a very grand premiere and media coverage in Korea, and earlier this year Cám (96.3 billion VND, or 3.8 million USD) was selected as a Limelight entry at Rotterdam.
Shorts might even become the heart of the wave. As the host of the newest Xine Xem Fest event, where shorts from filmmakers of Vietnamese descent were selected, I got to see many wonderful works – works which possessed bold choices, focused execution, and improved cinematic awareness. This was where I saw the audiovisual wonder that is Đàn cá gỗ (Wooden Fish Guitar) from the people at Mounter and the captivating documentary about dating named Mối Đêm from Nguyễn Hồ Bảo Nghi.
The former short won the Golden Kite in the Short Film section. The latter won both Best Editing and Best Film at Xine Xem Fest. It would be a great idea to top off the efforts of these filmmakers – who are generally young, and passionate, and have to take a “do-it-yourself” approach in terms of funding – with a showcase for international audiences and industry members.
But again, what matters more than generating a wave is sustaining it. Other, more established cinema scenes can rely on special showcases or retrospective screenings – so can that be an option for us? For example, could there be additional screenings of Phi Tiến Sơn’s Đào, phở, piano (Peach blossom, pho and piano) to accompany the news that it was picked as an Oscar hopeful from Vietnam? The April-timed war drama became something of a local phenomenon when it scored 16.7 billion VND (655,000 USD) in theatres, with much of those numbers propelled by public interest. Films fully funded by the government rarely get this much attention and this scale of distribution.
We need to be more serious about leaving an imprint abroad – an imprint not just of our films, but of our local talent, too. If those in other cinema scenes don’t take much of an interest, we can employ the shockers we produce to stir up more attention. Only then can we – as a business partner, as a cultural scene, as a wave – be recognised and validated.
We might even receive unconditional support for subsequent HIFFs, now that we’re recognisable. Well, one can dream, right?
(All box office figures are obtained from BoxOfficeVietnam.)
Nguyên Lê