Michelle Yeoh has a line that delivers simultaneously everywhere, and it certainly resonates with everyone these days and ages: “Today is so busy – you have no time to help.”
The internet has broken us. We are overwhelmed by information (and misinformation) and get emotional and tired. Notifications do not sound at all times and the scroll does not end. We seek comfort not in others, but in our devices – portals for our curated bubbles of content and community.
“Something about modern life resonates with a multifaceted story,” says Daniel Schinard, half of the directing duo known as the Daniels. “Everyone is in their own little universe. We all log on to social media and discover these subcultures that are sometimes so beautiful and attractive, sometimes so dreamy and so intriguing. It was a very confusing experience. “
That confusion is the basis of everything Daniels’ ubiquitous at the same time, which is already triggering suffocation. Praise: It was announced as the first best film of the year and immediately became Letterbox’s highest rated film since its limited release (box-office numbers and sold-out theatrical engagements were rarely seen before Kovit).
Relationships with her husband (Ke Hui Quan, in a rummy return to the film) and daughter (Stephanie Hsu), Harvard laundry worker Evelyn (Yov, in a career-defining role), are almost irreparable. A frightening encounter with a ruthless IRS agent (Jamie Lee Curtis) reveals the existence of a multiverses that only Evelyn can save. Such a summary is not in the least favorable to a frenzied, insane film full of pop-cultural references, scary body comedy and bitter kung fu dance. Human contact in the face of a bagel black hole of blue. As many say, the title provides.
Schneider and Daniel Quan, a Swiss soldier driven by their 2016 flatulence and erection, set their sights on making The Matrix version. In both of their aspects, human bodies transcend their realistic forms of death and become characters for things far greater than they can do in real life. It develops from the directors’ love of dance and body comedy, which became a valuable vocabulary between the couple as they began to tell stories without dialogue as music-video directors.
Through Zoom, Kwan holds a copy of Kurt Vonnegat’s novel, Breakfast of Champions, 1973, which explores the paradigm of true liberty: “When we started operating, I hated work. I felt like I was controlling these men, forcing them to recreate something in my head. Like the Swiss Army man, a corpse reveals itself as a Swiss military knife for the protagonist, and Daniels’s video for Foster the People’s Houdini contains similar concerns as the record label cronies handle the corpses of band members before a tumultuous crowd. But Kuan notes that they are beginning to move away from this guilt of puppetry towards something more confident. “What a beautiful gift it is to have a ship that has all that potential and to withstand anything, rather than ships that have no autonomy to be controlled.”
Evelyn finds herself in a universe of horror, including hot-dog fingers. “We wanted to play a game of empathy with our audience, to bring Evelyn into a universe she really does not want to be – in total view, she loves her favorite person – and then see if we can create it. The audience and our main character see the beauty in it,” he said. Shinert explains before laughing that in those scenes they spoke to Curtis and Yov when the actors voiced suspicion.
Much of the film is told by first-generation immigrants trying to feel about this country, leading the bureaucracy, paying taxes, trying to get along with other Americans and do business. Quan initially did not want to mention a Chinese-American immigrant family, but it naturally followed that genre: their favorite films include Jackie Chan, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and, of course, The Matrix. Hong Kong Action Choreography Front and Center. Seeing a martial art through the line, they realized that Asians could be cast as heroes. “How exciting is that?” Kuan remembered what he thought. From there he began to write what he knew. His father’s family emigrated from Hong Kong and opened laundries in New York; He recalled his grandparents’ apartment just above their laundry room.
Everything everywhere draws greatly from the pinnacle of Hong Kong cinema, much to the liking of both Daniels. After the first draft, Schneider saw how much Stephen Chow’s silly brand slapstick had an impact on their writing. “He was one of the first Asian filmmakers I fell in love with, who combined tones in a shocking way,” he says, recalling the impact of 2001’s Shaolin Soccer. “After crazy movies like Looney Tunes, those movies are so sad and brutal.”
Not to mention the playful battle scenes of Jackie Chan and his trademark use of everyday objects as weapons. “Who didn’t love Jackie Chan in the 90s?” Schwartz points out Quan, “Everyone fell in love with him, and then Hollywood did not learn a lesson about how to make his act clear, precise, fun and entertaining.
When Daniels started writing everywhere, the story centered on an Asian American family was far from the recipe for Hollywood success. Joh first met them two weeks before the release of Crazy Rich Asians; No one is sure how it will be obtained. Quan recalled what Joh said then, “You take a lot of risk in this movie. Focusing this big action film around a Chinese family is very daring.
Five years ago, an Asian American who had read their script presented a colorful, Pokமொmon-inspired metaphor with Kuan. “They said that the bullpen of Asian American cinema was like the Joy Luck Club or The Wedding Party – important stories that no one at the time told about a particular cultural narrative. Because of previous films, we can now see things like Crazy Rich Asians and Song-ci, Asian Americans are our own They have starred in a number of films – they are the ivy of Asian American cinema and our film is a veneer ”.
Everywhere everything can only be by those pioneers, he continues: “This film shows that Asian American cinema can be what it wants to be.” This coincides with the latest releases of Coconutta’s After Yang and Tommy Shi’s Turning Red. All three “basically echo the same feeling,” says Quan, “and we’m going to tell the story we want to tell.” In the end, Quan has great faith in the growing content of American cinema: “I look forward to the next five to 10 years. I hope every marginalized community gets this opportunity to declare themselves, ‘Look, I know the story is usually like this, but we have a lot more.
It’s got a fantastic response to everything so far everywhere, and one wonders if it’s playing something other than being on screen. “The whole idea for the film came from seeing everything polarized and pushed in every single direction,” says Quan. “Everyone feels this extension. This film is an attempt to connect the worlds together and imagine a place where everything is for a reason – there’s not this confusing, terrifying mess, but rather a beautiful mass of potential. I think people should listen to it now.