MIMETIC

I haven’t revisited Edward Yang’s Taiwanese masterpiece Yi Yi (2000) in a few years, though it remains a significant engram in my cinematic memory—particularly a brief and disturbing scene that occurs late in the film, which feels deliberately jarring in contrast to the otherwise consistently contemplative style throughout its nearly three-hour running time.

When Fatty (Chang Yu Pang), the boy Ting-Ting (Kelly Lee) has been seeing, is reported to have killed a teacher who was sleeping with both his ex-girlfriend and her mother, Yang abruptly cuts from a local news report of the bloody aftermath to a Mortal Kombat-style computer game recreation of the crime. Considering we’re talking about a matter of seconds, I’m continually fascinated by how impactful this near "blink-and-you’ll-miss-it" sequence is. It speaks to something profound in the film about the nature of mimesis and karma, both intrinsically and extrinsically connected.

Earlier in the film, Ting-Ting’s father, NJ (short for N.J. Jian, played by Wu Nien-Jen), meets a businessman in Japan named Mr. Ota (Issey Ogata), who owns a video game company and offers some of the most lucid wisdom of any character in the film. In fact, of all the characters, he seems the most present in himself—unburdened by regrets of the past or fears of the future. Perhaps only Yang-Yang (Jonathan Chang), NJ’s 8-year-old son, is equally philosophical and grounded, proving that one should always protect one’s inner child, especially in a modern world filled with chaos. As Ota speaks with NJ, it’s clear that he is a man centered and calm in his way of being—the direct opposite of Fatty’s impulsive, violent action later in the film. The only thing that subliminally ties their fates is NJ’s daughter, Ting-Ting, and the video game sequence, which offers a dark mental recall—not necessarily of Ota’s company directly (whether by accident or design on Yang’s part), but of the broader culture it represents.

My first reading of the video game sequence was that it serves as a statement by the director on how much of today’s youth are increasingly alienated from the real world and from any true, deep understanding of human relationships—often drawn instead to the emotionally detached world of media, gaming, and technology. There’s a clear irony here: a man as lucid and present as Ota (whose personal philosophy stands in stark contrast to Fatty’s violence) could be, in any way, responsible for the same culture that might inspire Fatty’s horrific act. And yet, thematically—if not causally—it feels connected, hovering in the ether of Yang’s cinematic universe.

We'll never know whether this game is derived from one of Mr. Ota’s company’s creations, but it’s impossible for our subconscious not to draw the connection. That’s what makes it so unsettling. It suggests that even well-intentioned media creators may inadvertently contribute to a culture of desensitisation, subtly influencing boys like Fatty, whose emotional immaturity gives rise to simplistic, binary notions of conflict resolution. Yang seems to be cautioning us: creators and companies must be mindful of the cultural products and the karma they release into the world—even when they are wise and self-aware, like Mr. Ota—because their consequences can be toxic, especially in a repressed society where emotions are buried deep within and reality and fantasy have become blurred.

Ota’s holistic philosophy may be more of a solution than a problem in relation to video game culture itself. We can’t be certain about this, but we can sense that he is a man of integrity. After their dinner in a Tokyo restaurant, Ota and NJ sit in a car listening to the song “Vaga Luna, che inargenti” by the Italian composer Bellini. In this quiet moment, it becomes clear that these are two cultured men who share an appreciation for the beauty of music. Their ability to communicate their feelings and ideas—despite relying on English, a second language for both—is a testament to their shared humanity.

A humanity that eludes the young murderer in his later senseless act.