By Yun-hua Chen.
We are nothing if not thorough in our deception of others.”
–Oyinkan Braithwaite, My Sister, the Serial Killer
Nelicia Low’s Pierce is a poignant portrayal of deception, a kind of deception that one falls into willingly out of blood bonding, also reminiscent of We Need to Talk About Kevin. What is revealed behind this self-created fantasy and illusory bubble is a deep connection that is unconditional, cannot and need not be explained.
Premiered at the Crystal Globe Competition of the Karlovy Vary International Film Festival and having won Best Director there, Pierce follows the perspective of a high school fencer, Zijie, who believes in the innocence of his estranged older brother. His brother is released from juvenile prison after being convicted of murdering his opponent during a fencing match. The rapprochement between the two brothers despite their mother’s furious disapproval reveals a dark past, leading Zijie to question: did he really murder that person, or was it an accident? Is he the loving brother as in my imagination, or is he a violent sociopath?
A bone-chilling psycho-thriller and an endearing drama about unconditional love at the same time, Pierce masterfully maintains suspense, feelings of doubt, and ambiguous expressions until the very end. The impressive performances of the two young actors are balanced by Ning, who plays their mother. Like fencing, when one character takes a step forward, the other steps back. The camera focuses on close-ups of their faces, where every minute movement intrigues the audience, prompting them to guess what the characters really think, yet certain emotions and thoughts remain stubbornly impenetrable.
Director Nelicia Low discusses with Film International the making of this film, the semi-autobiographical elements, and the direction of acting that lies at the core of the talent pool.
How did you decide to make a film in Taiwan?
I discovered the scene of filmmaking in Taiwan through the screenwriter Maya Huang, who wrote a modest yet profoundly touching film, Little Big Women (2020). It was Maya who brought me to Taiwan to make films. When I was at Columbia University, she saw my script and suggested making it in Taiwan, where she wanted to gain some executive filmmaking experience. I immediately agreed. There wasn’t much of a market for the film in Singapore, but filming in Taiwan felt seamless. The Taiwanese people remind me of New Yorkers, balancing business and art.
The art director for my first film with Maya was the same person who did the art direction for Pierce. This collaboration has continued since my first short film in 2014. I feel a strong connection to Taiwan.
You’ve built an amazing team in Taiwan.
Indeed, it’s a wonderful connection. Maya is now the Head of Content for Netflix, based in Singapore. It was amusing when she came to Singapore.
How did the Polish production come on board?
After establishing connections in Singapore and Taiwan, we attended a workshop where a Polish producer saw our project and showed interest. I felt we needed a non-Asian cinematographer to bring fresh perspectives to the film. Poland is renowned for its talented cinematographers, so we interviewed about 30 of them. Despite the challenges of the pandemic, we conducted extensive interviews via Zoom because we wanted to find a very good one whose chemistry matches with ours. Each Zoom session lasted around three hours. Eventually, we found Michal Dymek, the cinematographer for EO (2022). When we met in 2020, he had only made one feature-length film, but we appreciated his dedication and professionalism. He liked our script, so suggested that we meet on Zoom first. Our meeting revealed a shared vision and understanding, making it the best decision.
The fencing scenes were particularly well-filmed...
As a former fencer, I wanted to maintain the originality of the fencing shots. Many think fencing should be filmed with wide angles for objectivity, but for me, as a fencer, it’s about the person opposite and the distance between us. The film stems from emotions. That is the most important thing to me, as it is inspired by my brother’s autism and our relationship. The film is actually about our story, so I started from the stance of the main character. It is about the younger brother’s fantasy about his older brother, which contrasts with the reality. We actually began with a dream and how to make it feel real.
The younger brother kept asking the older brother, “Who are you really?” We hence started with the idea of using cinematography to depict a confusing situation, such as employing numerous shaky-cam shots, but I later felt that was excessive. Although we did use many surround shots in the movie, I believed it was important to keep it simple: to have the two brothers in a major close-up, with the younger brother observing the older brother. That approach felt more appropriate to me. I didn’t want to examine the sport of fencing in an objective way, as I feared it would turn into a typical sports movie.
Did you research related diseases before making the film?
My inspiration came while making my first short film in Taiwan in 2014, and that was the year when this guy called Zheng Jie slashed passengers with a fruit knife on the Taipei metro. I remember the news reports at that time. What he did was horrifying, of course, but what left the strongest impression was his parents’ plea for his execution; they wanted their child to reincarnate into a good person. And, it was also reported that Zheng Jie’s younger brother left his own shoes behind for him to wear at the police station, muttering “My brother wouldn’t do something like that”. His reaction resonated with me. If you’re an adult and you have a child with autism or another disorder, you view them from an adult perspective. But as a sibling born into a world where this is all you know, it’s a completely different experience and you grow up differently.
When I was a child, my brother and I always held hands. He is my only sibling. I remember thinking my brother loved me as a sister because he held my hand. When I was about six years old, being very rebellious, I wanted to run away from home and asked my brother, “Do you want to run away with me?” He said yes. I started packing my things, and then my dad came into our room and asked where we were going. I said, “My brother and I are leaving together.” My dad replied, “Sure, go ask him.” So I asked my brother, “Do you want to come with me?” He said yes. My father then asked, “Do you really want to go with your sister?” and my brother answered no. That was the first time I raised some questions. I was really young, so could not really grasp this.
When I grew up, I realized I was the one holding his hand all the time. He wasn’t holding my hand because he loved me, but rather, I was holding his hand because I was afraid he would disappear. Actually, autistic people don’t like to be touched, but our family was very afraid he would run away since he liked to run around so much. I was imitating my parents and holding his hand all the time.
When preparing for the film, I researched American serial killers and watched many documentaries, including the one about Ted Bundy with Yu-ning. Ted Bundy had a long-term girlfriend at the time, and she lived with him along with her child. This girlfriend later published a book and gave a recent interview where she expressed her biggest question: “He killed so many women, why didn’t he kill me?” Before Ted Bundy was executed, he wrote a letter to this woman, saying, “I know you’ll spend your life wondering what my feelings for you were, and I want you to know that I really did love you.”
Since my movie is semi-autobiographical, when creating the character of my brother, I drew parallels to my own brother, who, like the character, is very elusive, and I never know what he’s thinking. The rest of the inspiration came from Ted Bundy and other serial killers. I also practiced how to walk with Yu-ning. If you’re someone who never reveals your true self, you’ll observe and walk slowly. Yet, when you’re with your brother and feel confident, you’ll walk more boldly. Thus, the way Yu-ning walks in the movie varies according to the emotions he feels with his brother.
Yu-ning is a very repressed person; you can’t easily know what he is thinking. This isn’t deliberate – it’s natural for him, which made it very natural to utilize in the character.”
How did you balance the different acting experiences of the three boys?
During the epidemic, as soon as I came out of quarantine, I met Hsiu-fu. The moment he walked in, it felt right. Of course, there were many interviews to go through, and I interviewed him for a long time because it was very important. Despite being an actor without much experience, I knew immediately that he was the one. I admire Ang Lee, my favorite director. When he made Lust, Caution (2007), he mentioned that because Tang Wei was not very experienced and Tony Leung was a very experienced actor, there was a sense of freshness. Similarly, with Hsiu-fu, there is a sense of freshness. Talented actors need a long period of adjustment to become better and learn how to maintain that freshness while bringing in a lot of skills. When a novice acts with a very mature actor, there is a great spark, like between Ning and Xiu-fu.
Finding an actor for the role of the older brother took a long time despite the fact that there are many male actors in their 20s and 30s in Taiwan. I thought it would be easy, but it turned out to be very difficult. Yu-ning is very special; as an actor, he has everything: talent, depth, the ability to live in the moment, charisma, freshness, and some experience, making him more stable. Before Yu-ning’s audition, he was the only actor who didn’t ask me why this character became like this; every other actor did. In this movie, his character is just like that, and Yu-ning accepted the role right away, bringing in his personal experience.
Also, during the audition, I took some things out of the script to see if the actor would fall into the trap. In the first scene in the supermarket, the real script said that the older brother pretended to be surprised when he saw his younger brother, so I took the “pretend” sentence out of the audition. Every actor was directly surprised, except for Yu-ning, who turned to me and asked, “But I’m not really surprised, am I?” As soon as he said that, I knew it was him, and I said, “You’re so smart.” Guys in their 20s and 30s usually think they’re very good and smart, but he was the only one who said, “This is the first time anyone has ever told me I’m smart.”
Another point is that this character is someone who deliberately doesn’t let others see his inner world. Yu-ning is a very repressed person; you can’t easily know what he is thinking. This isn’t deliberate – it’s natural for him, which made it very natural to utilize in the character.
The ending sparked much discussion among viewers.
It took me about five years to write this script. I started writing from the ending, which is my usual approach. When I saw what Zheng Jie did, I thought of my brother, and then, when I went back to Columbia University, the ending suddenly came to me: the older brother did a terrible thing, and the younger brother sacrificed himself in his place. The entire movie process was about how to get the character to that point. Some ideas suggest the younger brother saved the older brother out of love, but I think the real reason goes deeper. At first, the younger brother tries to determine, “Does my brother actually love me? What are your emotions for me, brother? Did you kill someone on purpose? What kind of person are you really?” In the end, he realizes that no matter who his brother is, he can’t help but love him. This is what I have also learned about myself; my brother’s love for me is all invented by myself, but it doesn’t change the love and loyalty I have for him.
When I wrote the script, many people liked the ending, though they didn’t know why. I think it means the script was right. The ending and the character’s final decision are usually something that only the actor playing the main character and I can truly understand at the stage of the script; others can’t grasp it until they’ve seen the movie.
When working with actors, I blend Meisner and Stanislavsky’s methods, hoping the actor can live in the moment while bringing their personal experience into the performance to make it more realistic. But then, bringing too much in can be unhealthy for the actor. During casting, I talk to the actors and find places where their experiences can enhance the character. To prepare, we rehearsed intensively for one to two months, like a stage play, with Zi-heng Lin coaching and real fencing players participating in the acting classes.
Hsiu-fu’s greatest strength as an actor is that he lives in the moment. If you don’t throw the right thing at him, he won’t have the right reaction. Because of this, I found something very special through him in the last scene.
How did your brother react to the film?
My family attended the premiere. My brother’s autism is more severe, so he wouldn’t understand or be able to read the film. Yet, all the English songs in the movie are his favorites, which is why I chose to include them. Some of the copyrights were very hard to obtain and quite expensive, so I wrote about my brother’s autism in my letters, hoping the copyright holders would help.
My parents liked the film a lot, but they never really understood why their daughter, who used to be a good student, became a director. All my friends are lawyers and doctors, and I’m the only artist. There is no art scene in Singapore; it’s totally different from Taiwan, where you can pursue many different interests. I wanted to be a director since I was six years old and felt it was my vocation. My parents didn’t understand initially, but then they saw how hard I worked on filming and post-production. They watch movies with the eyes of an ordinary audience, and if they like it, the general audience should like it too.
The film features significant water imagery…
Yes, it’s amazing. When I was reading those serial killer stories, water kept coming up. Ted Bundy’s girlfriend recalled an incident when they were rowing, and Ted Bundy pushed her into the river. She struggled for a long time before he rescued her.
And, I read an article about some schools in the United States that try to help children with psychopathic tendencies. One desperate father had a child who killed many small animals and did cruel things. Once, this child’s younger brother fell into a swimming pool, and the father saw the child pulling the younger brother up. He thought to himself, “Why is he doing this? Is there hope?”
Another interesting aspect is that when we were shooting in Taiwan from January to March 2022, there were only two days without rain. It was the coldest winter in 80 years, so it felt like God was helping us out by enhancing the feelings of water, adding a lot of texture.
Is your next film also semi-autobiographical?
The next movie is about Cantonese Opera, my family speaks Cantonese, and my name, “Liu” in “Huiling Liu (劉慧伶)”, is the word for “operatic artist” because my mom loves Cantonese Opera actors so much that she gave me that name. Cantonese Operatic artists used to be all male or all female. I wanted to tell the story of two women operatic artists. It’s about the difficulties that I went through when I was making Pierce, and I kept asking myself why I was doing it, and why I loved movies so much, and it’s about the sacrifices that you have to make and the difficulties that you have to face to become an artist. The other part of the story is about the dilemma of one of these two artists in Chinatown, San Francisco, whose father owns a Chinese American bank in the U.S.A. and wants her to inherit it. This story has something to do with my dad. Before shooting Pierce, my dad, who also owns a company, has always wanted me to take over his business. Two weeks before the shooting began, it was really hard, I really wanted to give up, and I told him I would come back and take over his company; I couldn’t imagine in my whole life that I would have uttered those words, saying I don’t want to shoot anymore, and I’ll go and work for him. And then, my father, who had always wanted me to quit directing, told me, “You have to stay, you have to do it.” The next movie is about this story.
Yun-hua Chen is an independent film scholar and critic and associate editor of Film International Online.