Ang Lee’s expansion of Eileen Chang’s “Lust, Caution”

I really don’t know what Ang Lee (Lee Ang in Asian word order) meant when he wrote that “no other writer has used the Chinese language as cruelly” as Eileen Chang (Zhang Ailing in pinyin, 1920-1995) did. The controversial film he made of Chang’s story “Se, jie” that has been translated into English as “Lust, Caution” portrays some rather graphic and pretty rough sex between the 45-year-old Mr. Yee (Tony Leung), the head of the intelligence service of the Shanghai Japanese puppet government of Wang Jingwei, and Wong Chiachih (Wei Tang in a sensational screen debut), a college-student actress whose role is to lure him into a trap so that he can be eliminated by Chinese nationalist patriots.

lust-caution-movie-poster-france.jpeg

He is using her as a concubine — though Chiachih is the guest or Mrs. Yee (Joan Chen), an inveterate mahjong player — and concubines are entitled to flashy rings (and other jewelry). She aims to inflame his lust so that he can be killed, though she lacks strong political or patriotic convictions. She also has no experience of sexual love or passion-management.

Because her role is that of a married woman (the wife of a Hong Kong businessman, a category very plausibly apolitical) she is deflowered in a totally unromantic and instrumental way (by a fellow actor turned patriot or terrorist, a distinction depending on the side). Mr. Yee wants her, and she has strong feelings, oscillating between love and hate, for him. He uses her very roughly, awakening strong masochism in her.

The film adds an unrequited and mutual love between Chiachih and Kuan Yumin (pop star Lee-Hom Wang), who was her director in a patriotic melodrama before the Japanese conquered Hong Kong and is also the director of the amateur assassins.

In Chang’s story, the group is reassembled at the behest of Mr. Wu (Tou Chunghua, who starred in Hou Hsiaohsien “The Boys from Fengkuei”), a Kuomintang (Nationalist Chinese) agent in Shanghai who learns that Chiachih has befriended Mrs. Yee and might be able to get the very cautious Mr. Yee into a place where he can be killed. In the film adaptation, the group kills a “running dog” of the Japanese (very, very ineptly and therefore gruesomely) and are bailed out of (in 1938, not yet conquered by the Japanese) Hong Kong.

The film adds a scene of Mr. Wu, Kuan Yumin, and Chiachih telling both of them details of what she is doing and feeling with Mr. Wu that neither of the patriotic men wants to hear. For me, this scene is the hinge of the film and makes the reversal(s) ahead more comprehensible than it is in Chang’s very terse story.

I was asked if the graphic sex was necessary. Given that the first word of the title is “lust,” I think so, though what Chiachih says to those who have sent her on her mission of seduction is likely to make viewers as uncomfortable as it does her interlocutors within the scene. And Chang (who worked on the story for nearly three decades) did not specify that the sexual connection was (or verged on being) sadomasochistic.

I think that To and Wang are extremely good, as is Ko Yue-Lin as Liang Junsheng, the member of the group with some sexual experience who must deflower Chiachih for the sake of China (diffidently and passionlessly—condoned by Kuan Yumin, despite his feelings for her). Both the “romantic leads” seem affectless to me. Their sexual congress involves some contorted positions, but their faces remain blank in and out of bed. The movie (not just the sex) is utterly joyless.

Joan Chen does not have much to do, but does that well. Tony Leung (Leung Chui-Wai) has played many heavily conflicted lovers (for Wong Karwai and others). Playing a selfish villain goes against his iconic image. He is able to bring some of his trademark melancholic self-loathing, and some diffidence — at least in scenes with his wife and her circle of mahjong addicts. Mr. Yee knows (by 1942) that the Japanese are going to lose and will be unable to protect him in the long run. He does not know the extent to which his affair with Chiachih is risking his life (and career), but he is intrigued at stimulating strong feelings — even if it expressed hate rather than love.

Leung does not go over to the dark side to the extent that Henry Fonda, for instance, did in “Once Upon a Time in America.” Mr. Yee signs death warrants and shows not the slightest remorse for anything, but at least for me, he never completely breaks out of the web of sympathy accumulated in a quarter of a century of film roles. I mean, he is despicable and has the grace to despise himself to some degree, but he is also the victim and being used. (In terms of Kantian ethics, her use of him is more instrumental than his use of her is.)

I guess that Mr. Yee cannot be a complete monster for the plot to work, so maybe the ethical grayness of assassinating an executioner is exactly what Leung needed to do. There is even one point at which he is moved (by Chiachih’s sining/acting in a geisha house). I don’t understand why he tortured himself to lose weight to look emaciated, since there is no basis for that in Chang’s story. (I don’t know if starving himself was his idea or Lee’s)

lustcaution.jpeg

I’m not convinced the film deserved a NC-17 rating. The sex is what makes sense of what happens, that is, the story and there is no full-frontal nudity, male or female.

Lee generally takes his (and viewers’!) time. The first half hour in particular drags. Perhaps the pace was intended to illustrate the “caution” in the title?

BTW, there is one sequence in which Yee is in a geisha house in the Japanese quarter to which he has summoned Chiachih that has a Japanese hostess and some very drunk Japanese army officers, one of whom paws Chiachih. Mr. Yee’s office is in a complex under the KMT flag, though the leader of his would-be assassins, Mr. Wu, is also a KMT (Jiang Kai-Shek rather than Wang Jingwei) operative.

The neo-Romantic (sometimes neo-Wagnerian) music by Alexandre Desplat (The Queen, Girl with a Pearl Earring) has made the soundtrack album a big seller. The art direction by Joel Chong and others is outstanding, and done full justice by Mexican cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto, who shot “Brokeback Mountain” for Lee (also Amores Perros, Frida, 21 Grams, Babel, and Alexander).

Lee’s team is very international. I already knew that Tony Leung speaks flawless English and expected that Ko Yue-Lin Wang Leehom did (Ko graduated from Williams, Wang is American-born). In the “making of” featurette, Wei Tang (born in Zhejiang) acquits herself well, if less confidently in English. I’d have liked to hear more from Ang Lee and James Schamus — as in their commentary track for “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.” What the cast members, Schamus and Prieto say, and what is shown of shooting the film are interesting but relentlessly positive about everyone else (what I call a “We all loved each other SO much” making-of featurette).

 

©2008, 2018, Stephen O. Murray

Advertisements

Falling in love with the traitor she seduced to kill

Insofar as there could be a Jane Austen of 1930s and 40s Shanghai, it was Eileen Chang (Zhang Ailing in pinyin, 1920-1995). That is, she wrote about love relationships — “chicklit” if you will — during very turbulent times, mostly not mentioning the macro-level disturbances. As translator Julia Lovell wrote in introducing her translation of Chang’s novella “Se, jie” as “Lust, Caution,” “Although her [politically] disengaged stance was in part dictated by Japanese censorship in Shanghai, it was also infused with an innate skepticism of the often overblown revolutionary rhetoric that many of her fellow writers had adopted…. War is no more than an incidental backdrop, helping to create exceptional situations and circumstances in which bittersweet affairs of the heart are played out.” Chang defended her focus, writing, “Though my characters are not heroes, they are the ones who bear the burden of our age.”

lust-caution-chang.jpeg

The world of patriotism and armed struggle more than impinges on the protagonist of “Lust, Caution,” Wang Chia-Chih, however. At the start of the story she is a houseguest in Shanghai of Mrs. Yee  who whiles away her life shopping and playing mahjong. The latter is the wife of Mr. Yee (no given name is ever mentioned), who is the head of the secret police in Wang Ching-Wei’s collaborationist/puppet government.

The story opens and closes with Mrs. Yee  playing mahjong with rich friends. The reader learns that Wang Chia-Chih was the star actress of her class of students in Hong Kong and was recruited by other students who were fervently anti-Japanese and wanted to assassinate Mr. Yee while he was in Hong Kong (before the Japanese conquered Hong Kong).

Chia-Chih’s role was to seduce Mr. Yee, so that the others could kill him, an exemplary punishment of a traitor (“quisling” has become the word in English based on the Norwegian Nazi collaborator example). The role concocted for her is that of the wife of a businessman, played by another actor. The only member of the group who can drive undertakes playing the chauffeur and the only one with any sexual experience deflowers Chia-Chih.

Mr. Yee suddenly leaves Hong Kong, but a Kuomintang agent in Shanghai, Mr. Wu, learns of the connection made and the group reassembles and the plot is de facto revived.

Chia-Chih plays her part well, and like any good concubine, she is to be rewarded with a ring by Mr. Yee, and the murder is set around Chiah-Chih and Mr. Yee going to an Indian jeweler. Having no experience of love — and only a very mechanical experience of sex to enable her to pass as a married woman — she cannot tell if she has fallen in love with the Enemy she is engaged in setting up to be killed.

lc.jpg

Most of the story is this setup. Ang Lee’s NC-17-rated 2007 film adaptation film makes sense of the very terse backstory. About two hours of the film elaborates in flashbacks what is only a few paragraphs in Chang’s story. I don’t think I would have understood some of the implications Chang threw out in passing, so that seeing the film before reading the story seems a good course. The most riveting scene in the movie — a meeting of Chia-Chih, Kuang Yumin (the head of the conspirators), and Mr. Wu is not in the original story at all. There is also nothing about the kind of sex Chia-Chih had with Mr. Yee in the story, nor is Mr. Yee described as being skinny (so I don’t understand why Tony Leung had to take off weight for the part!).

The story is definitely shorter than the film. The film is novelistic (as Ang Lee’s film of “Brokeback Mountain” was, along with his adaptations of novels Sense and Sensibility, The Ice Storm, Riding with the Devil. (I recall that John Ford said that it was better to flesh out short stories than to distill novels, though three of the four films for which he won Oscars were adaptations of novels, two of them quite sprawling novels.)

The part of Chang’s story that seems to have interested Ang Lee — at least judging by his aferword to the publication of the story as a book — is part that he could not film: in Chinese (Lee uses pinyin), “Wei bu dzuo chung.” This Chinese conception is that the ghost of someone killed by a tiger works for the tiger, helping to lure more prey into his path.

In both story and film, Mr. Yee knows that the Japanese rule is not going to last and that without Japanese protection he will be executed for his more-than-willing collaboration. “But now that he had enjoyed the love of a beautiful woman, he could die happy—without regret…. Now, he possessed her utterly, primitively——as a hunter does his quarry, a tiger his kill. Alive, her body belonged to him, dead she was his ghost.”

Ang Lee discusses this soul possession notion in his afterword. (He also asserted that “no other writer has used the Chinese language as cruelly” as Chang, and that no other story of hers is as beautiful or as cruel as this one. If her use of language was cruel in Chinese, this has not been replicated in the translation, though I think it more likely that it is not really the language use that is cruel in Chinese either). Lee’s usual scriptwriter/producer, James Schamus, takes up the question “Why Did She Do It?”, a question that cannot be answered.

The movie runs 157 minutes; the story occupies only 54 pages (with text that is only 5 1/4″ by s 1/4″. Lee and Schamus each add three pages, Julia Lovell ten. This seems quite slight to make a book, as was the case for turning Annie Proulx’s short story “Brokeback Mountain” into a book. In that case, the story was already available in a collection of Proulx Wyoming stories, Close Range: Wyoming Stories, and there was a volume with the screenplay, the original story, and essays by those involved in adapting the story to the screen. There is a screenplay plus original story plus essays edition of “Lust, Caution” (and Chang’s story is not available in Love in a Fallen City, the collection in English of Chang’s Shanghai stories.

Re the title: Since there does not seem to be anything I would characterize as “lust” in the story (the film is another matter!), I asked two native speakers of Chinese about the translation of Chang’s title. They felt that “lust” was a reasonable translation, though “seduction” would be as good, but that the disjuncture is not in Chinese. “Forbidden lust” and “Forbidden seduction” were their suggestions as translations of the title. The liaison that is central to the story (and that bears more than a casual relationship to Chang’s marriage with a prominent collaborator) is a perilous one for both of them. Hers was, as it were, “licensed” as a patriotic duty, his was exceedingly unwise. Caution was Mr. Yee’s general m.o., but love and/or lust often involves jettisoning caution and rational calculation. Both were “playing with fire.” More than one got burned in the instrumental use of sex/love.

 

 

©2008, 2018, Stephen O. Murray

 

1934 stroll from the Iron Gate to Istanbul

I am not a member of the Sir Patrick Michael Leigh (“Paddy”) Fermor, DSO, OBE (1915-2011) cult, though I readily stipulate that he had pluck and extensive culture. Decades after his stroll from the Netherlands to Istanbul (which like many Greeks he continued to call “Constantinople”) that took from 8 December 1933 to1 January 1935 and mostly without notes or diaries, he published two books about the trip and worked on a third. The third was put together by Colin Tiburon and Artemis Cooper. It has a baroque style, except for the appended diary of his later first trip to Mount Athos.

I suspect that the 18-19-year-old had not been as virulently anti-Ottoman as the author of The Broken Road was. The Greek nationalist fanaticism and unremitting denigration of Turks mars the book.

broken-road-cover.jpeg

It also has other major problems of organization (wildly digressive) and believability. I do not believe he could have remembered so many details 25-75 years earlier, and his disquisitions on history surely owe much to later reading. I don’t doubt he went where he says he went (much lengthening the trip by swinging from Plovdid in central Bulgaria to the Romanian capital of Bucharest). Nor do I doubt that he cadged off scores of Romanians and Bulgarians, including impoverished peasants as well as Romanian (and, earlier, Hungarian) aristocrats. I find his sense of entitlement to being fed and sheltered very off-putting. His outrage that some Bulgarians would not give him a free ride shows particularly clearly his exploitativeness. (He does sometimes mention unease at others paying for all his meals and drinks, though the reader cannot be sure if he felt this is 1934 or decades later looking at the record of his reliance on the kindness of strangers that exceeded that of Blanche DuBois).

Fermor worked on the manuscript into his 90s. I find the portrait of his 19-year-old self suspect. There is hardly anything about the target of the long walk (with at least one train trip, and lots of rides), not even what is Byzantine in Istanbul, let alone its mosques, Topkapi Palace, and the waterways within its boundaries.

1403_SBR_Fermor-COVER.jpg.CROP.original-original.jpeg

The parts that most interested me were about his visit to Rustchuk (Russe, Bulgaria on the Danube) and his extended stay (sponging in both cities) in Bucharest. He documented the rabid anti-Semitism of the Romanians (pp. 148-52).

Kretzulescu Church int.jpg

(interior of Kretzulescu Church in Bucharest, showing typical decoraiton of every inch)

©2018, Stephen O. Murray

The Gorilla Bathes at Noon

“The gorilla bathes at noon” (Gorila se kupa u podne,1993) is not set in Africa. It has a stubborn non-conformist whose verities have banished at its center. A Soviet major, Victor Borisovich, who had been hospitalized (like the devoutly communist mother in “Goodbye, Lenin”) finds that his army has deserted him in Berlin. He remains in dress uniform and he remains loyal to Lenin, not only cleaning a gigantic statue of Lenin, but dreaming of his sort-of-girlfriend in Lenin drag. (There is footage of a Lenin statue being decapitated and the head trucked away. There is also footage of Stalin visiting Berlin recently conquered by the Red Army and other footage from the 1949 Soviet propaganda film/documentary “The Fall of Berlin.”

GorillaMirror_Still5.jpeg

The major has access to the Berlin Zoo, steals food intended for the animals, and considers (dreams?) of feeding himself to his compatriots, the zoo’s Siberian tigers, except that neither tiger had ever been in Siberia: one was born in Stüttgart, the other in Budapest.

The sex and the music are muted in contrast to Makavejev’s Yugoslavian films (back when he was allowed to make them). There’s still plenty of comedy of the absurd in “Gorilla.”

gor.jpeg

In the other communist founding father veneration film (Tito and Me), I don’t know if the family is Serbian or Croatian. I suspect that instead of speaking Russian, the actors in “Gorilla” are speaking Serbo-Croatian. The abandoned  major is played by “Yugoslav stage actor Svetozar Cvetkovic”) and the film is directed by Dusan Makavejev (director of “WR: Mysteries of the Organism” and “Montenegro”), who may now be German, but was Yugoslav before that was a code word for Serbian. (He was born in Belgrade in 1932.)

©2011, Stephen O. Murray

Rats, sexologists, and switchboard operators

I was bored by Dusan Makavejev’s 1967 “Love Affair, or the Case of the Missing Switchboard Operator“ (Ljubavni slucaj ili tragedija sluzbenice P.T.T.), one of the three movies in the Criterion Eclipse “” Makavejev: Free Radical” set. I assumed that the sexologist, Dr. Aleksandar Kostich, who natters frequently between scenes of the crime was a fictional parody, but, apparently, he was real, a cinematic objet trouvé. I don’t know if one could say the scenes of baking are documentary or not, but those of political rallies are.

LOVE AFFAIR; OR THE CASE OF THE MISSING SWITCHBOARD OPERATOR (1967) 14.jpeg

The Turkish sanitation expert Ahmed (Slobodan Aligrudić) who picks up Izabela (Eva Ras) who is out on the town (/prowl) her fellow switchboard operator (Ruzica Sokić) is charged with exterminating the gray rat population — a species that was introduced to wipe out black rats (like the mongeese of Hawai’i). It is impossible not to suspect that the dueling rat populations are a Metaphor for human politics in a land where communists supplanted Nazis.

The alien (Turk) is a suspect in the murder of Izabela, not least in that her corpse is found in his subterranean workplace (the sewers). Another suspect is the mailman (Miodrag Andric) who gave her rides to work and hit on her incessantly—and when Ahmed was away on business for a month overcame her resistance.

Love-Affair-or-the-Case-of-the-Missing-Switchboard-Operator-1967.jpeg

The whodunit aspect obviously did not much interest Makavejev. Clearly, he was aiming to preach against sexual repression (even before “W.R.: Mysteries of the Orgasm”), but the main romance has none of the quirky charm of even the generally cold-blooded Rainer Fassbiner’s (1974) “Ali: Fear Eats the Soul” centering on a Muslim male and an eastern European female.

Ahmed does install a bathtub for Izabela, which introduces a theme taken up again in “The Gorilla Bathes at Noon.”.

 

©2011, Stephen O. Murray

Body-builder showing off in 1942 and 1968

The question is whether ‘Nevinost bez zastite” (Innocence Unprotected), the documentary Dusan Makavejev (W.R.: Mysteries of the Organism; Montenegro; The Gorilla Bathes at Noon) made about/incorporating the first talkie shot in “Yugoslavian” (Serbian and Croatian use different scripts, but these inscribe the same spoken language) the 1942 ‘Nevinost bez zastite,” written, produced and directed by, and starring acrobat/bodybuilder/strongman Dragoljub Aleksic (1900-85) is one strange movie — or two strange movies intercut together.

Innocence_Unprotected_FilmPoster.jpeg

The 1942 melodrama has the creakiness of a particularly hokey silent-movie or Victorian play melodrama, except that the damsel in distress, Nada (Ana Milosavljevic) — on whom a rich man ((Bratoljub Gligorijević) is being pressed by a stereotypical wicked stepmother (Vera Jovanovic-Segvić) — is in love with Akrobata Aleksic, and when she speaks of his exploits, records of Aleksic’s daring feats are cut in. Hanging by his teeth from an airplane flying over Belgrade is not the most spectacular of these. (Hey! I have to leave something for the viewer to discover!)

In 1968, Aleksic remained a flamboyant exhibitionist, ready and more or less able to repeat some of his shows of strength. Other cast members (including both the female leads) gather at the grave of a departed one to picnic and reminisce. Makavejev splices in some maps of the German invasion of the Soviet Union, some WWII documentary footage, and large chunks of the 1942 movie.

600full-innocence-unprotected-photo.jpeg

It seems that Aleksic and his brother intended to show their movie only after the war, but it did show in Belgrade during the war, which led to postwar charges of collaboration, though both were partisans (guerilla fighters against the Nazis) and even in the “right” partisan faction (the victorious communist one). Though filmed without any official permission, the theatrical release in Belgrade had at least implicit Nazi approval.

600full-innocence-unprotected-poster.jpeg

The movie is part of a Criterion Eclipse (barebones) collection “Dusan Makavejev: Free Radical” with two earlier, also short movies shot in Tito’s Yugoslavia: “Man Is Not A Bird” (1965) and “Love Affair” (1967). “Innocence Unprotected” is like its immediate predecessor and “WR” in mixing found footage, documentary, and little narrative.

I’d actually like to know more about what people other than Aleksic thought of the 1942 movie in general and in using the (main) Yugoslavian language in particular, though I knew better than to expect any straightforward documentary from Makavejev. An idiosyncratic collage of “documentary” footage and fiction, much of the movie holds together because of the strength of ego (one completely unjustified by his film-making skill) of Dragoljub Aleksic. Aleksic is the kind of delusional larger-than-life character who would appearl to Werner Herzog, someone also more than willing to blur the fiction/documentary line.

What he shot and spliced together is only fitfully interesting, but is probably more interesting to someone more familiar with the 20th-century history and culture of the Southern Slavs (and I think that I am more familiar with these than most North Americans who are not of Southern Slav ancestry). The 1942 movie is now the first Serbian movie, I guess.

©2009, Stephen O. Murray

 

Dusan Makavejev’s feature-film debut: “Man Is Not a Bird”

“Covek nije tica” (Man Is Not a Bird, 1965) is the first feature film of writer-director Dusan Makavejev (1932-), who is most (in)famous for the X-rated “WR: Mystery of the Orgasm” (1971). It is also the best of the three early Makavejev movies in the Criterion Eclipse (without bonus features) set “Dusan Makavejev: Free Radical.”

70123138.jpeg

The movie begins with a lecture on hypnosis (delivered by hypnotist (Roko Cirkovic) and ends with a demonstration of a hypnotist making hypnotized Yugoslavian men laughing stocks for an audience, foreshadowing the lectures by a sexologist and by a criminologist in “Ljubavni slucaj ili tragedija sluzbenice P.T.T.” (Love Affair, (1967). There is also a very provincial circus foreshadowing the focus on strongman/acrobat turned filmmaker Dragoljub Aleksic in “Nevinost bez zastite” (Innocence Unprotected, 1968). And a 3-4 minute performance of the Beethoven 9th Symphony (foreshadowing “Clockwork Orange”?)

There is a bit of a plot, involving a middle-aged expert from Slovenia, Jan Rudinski (Janez Vrhovec) who is in a copper-mining town on the border between Serbia and Bosnia (all three parts of Yugoslavia at the time) to supervise assembly of some turbo that will speed production and reduce electricity usage in copper smelting.

When first seen, Jan is having his hair cut by a youngish blonde Rajka (Milena Dravic). He asks her if she knows of anyone with a room to rent for his stay in town. She leads him home and becomes his landlady… and more. She pretty much throws herself at him. At the very least, she seduces him without his making any moves to seduce her.

Rajka has a more ardent, younger and very persistent admirer, a truck driver Vozac (Boris Dvornik, who bears some resemblance to Omar Sharif of the same time).

The movie also shows workers pilfering (including rolling a sort of girdle of copper wiring), corrupt managers, and workers expressing dissatisfaction with communism. It is surprising that these were not censored, especially in that the movie is a quasi-documentary about communist industrialization. The only nudity is a brief scene of some men in a shower. The sex scenes are discreet — well, if a sexual congress with the “Freedom!” part of Beethoven’s 9th can be considered discreet. None of the Yugoslavians are free, they cannot fly, are not birds (as the title emphasizes). They can, however, have sexual dalliances.

There’s also a drunkard, Barbulović (Stole Arandelovic), who gives his mistress three of his wife’s best dresses, outraging the wife, but this subplot is left unresolved. (Though, the end of that story may have been shown early on.)

There are some impressive compositions of the land scarred by mining operations and of the operating factory.

I don’t think it would be plot spoiling to report that the turbo gets installed and Jan is awarded a medal and a banquet (I’m not sure whether a cash bonus for getting the work done ahead of schedule is awarded, though I think it was approved by an official who did not think a medal was sufficient recompense.)

The mix of satire, documentary, and sex comedy runs only 78 minutes. It is not as wild or as chaotic as Makavejev’s later movies (the other two in the “Free Radical” set are far more disjointed). The images are not sharp, which I think was probably not a result of the movie’s age but of inferior film stock being used in the first place.

Man Is nit a bird_Poster.jpeg

The sly use of documentary style has been said to be “a cornerstone of Eastern European cinema.” It preceded the films of the Prague Spring, though Milos Forman’s “Loves of a Blonde” also dates from 1965 and Jirí Menzel’s film “Closely Watched Trains” (adapted from his own novel by Bohumil Hrabal, released in 1966) was probably already in production by the time “Man Is Not a Bird” came out. And I don’t think that the later two movies in “Free Radical” mark any advance on the sex plus mockumentary format. The sex got more explicit though.

 

©2010, Stephen O. Murray

Advertisements

Discussion of Japanese literature and movies (in translation and subtitled, respectively).