This video essay by Just One More Thing, on the film Yi Yi (2000) by Edward Yang, is not satisfactory in the sense that it does little more than explaining to the audience the message of the film, which people who have watched the film do not need since it is directly stated, and for people who have not, the message, when offered as a summary, only reduces the profoundness of the film.
Nonetheless, I would like to point out two moments when the essayist’s manipulation of the visual, at its most distinct, albeit an illustration of the voice-over, not only proves what the essayist is arguing, but conveys to the audience what has not been expressed through words.
First, from 3:36 to 3:40, the essayist juxtaposes two scenes of NJ at a bar. The jump cut emphasizes the comparison between NJ sitting with the bartender, which the essayist describes as “his true self,” and him sitting alone, “his present self.” What the audience plainly sees, which the essayist does not articulate, is the dramatic change of NJ’s facial expressions, all the more striking because of the essayist’s editing: together with the bartender, he smiles relaxedly; alone, the corners of his mouth droop. This moment, hence, gains its power independent of the voice-over.
Second, at 8:27, when talking about the two sides of a person, the essayist juxtaposes two shots showing the front and the back of A-Di: one shabby, the other neat. He uses the wipe effect to call the audience’s attention not only to the difference, but to his revelation of the difference, which corresponds to one of the central actions of the film: the little boy, Yang Yang, taking pictures of people’s napes to let them know about the half truth that they cannot see. To me, this is the kind of moments the advantage of video essays shine out. With the same medium that embodies films, video essays pay more direct tribute to films than texts ever can.
Why Yi Yi Will Change How You See Life
This video essay by Just One More Thing, on the film Yi Yi (2000) by Edward Yang, is not satisfactory in the sense that it does little more than explaining to the audience the message of the film, which people who have watched the film do not need since it is directly stated, and for people who have not, the message, when offered as a summary, only reduces the profoundness of the film.
Nonetheless, I would like to point out two moments when the essayist’s manipulation of the visual, at its most distinct, albeit an illustration of the voice-over, not only proves what the essayist is arguing, but conveys to the audience what has not been expressed through words.
First, from 3:36 to 3:40, the essayist juxtaposes two scenes of NJ at a bar. The jump cut emphasizes the comparison between NJ sitting with the bartender, which the essayist describes as “his true self,” and him sitting alone, “his present self.” What the audience plainly sees, which the essayist does not articulate, is the dramatic change of NJ’s facial expressions, all the more striking because of the essayist’s editing: together with the bartender, he smiles relaxedly; alone, the corners of his mouth droop. This moment, hence, gains its power independent of the voice-over.
Second, at 8:27, when talking about the two sides of a person, the essayist juxtaposes two shots showing the front and the back of A-Di: one shabby, the other neat. He uses the wipe effect to call the audience’s attention not only to the difference, but to his revelation of the difference, which corresponds to one of the central actions of the film: the little boy, Yang Yang, taking pictures of people’s napes to let them know about the half truth that they cannot see. To me, this is the kind of moments the advantage of video essays shine out. With the same medium that embodies films, video essays pay more direct tribute to films than texts ever can.
Video Commentaries
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