‘We Are All Strangers’ Review: A Micro-Macro Lens Reveals Beauty and Poetry in the Everyday Lives of a Singaporean Family

A rudderless young man and his hardworking father each experience love, marriage, loss and the fragility of dreams in this concluding part of Anthony Chen’s loosely linked ‘Growing Up’ trilogy. Yeo Yan Yan (center left) and Andi Lim in ‘We Are All Strangers.’ Giraffe Pictures Share on Facebook Share on X Google Preferred Share to Flipboard Show additional share options Share on LinkedIn Share on Pinterest Share on Reddit Share on Tumblr Share on Whats App Send an Email Print the Article Post a Comment After two features set far from home — respectively Drift in Greece and The Breaking Ice in China — Anthony Chen returns to Singapore with the minor-key magical We Are All Strangers (Wo Men Bu Shi Mo Sheng Ren). As flavorful and satisfying as the Hokkien noodles seen being stir-fried, seasoned and served with a cold beer at various intervals, the film is a hypnotic conclusion to what the writer-director calls his Growing Up trilogy — preceded by the poignant domestic drama Ilo Ilo and the melancholic intergenerational romance Wet Season. What these movies have in common is their fresco-like attention to the ebb and flow, the minute details, the disappointments and rewards of ordinary lives and imperfect families, both biological and chosen. Related Stories Movies 'Nina Roza' Review: A Bulgarian Exile Returns to His Roots in This Insightful, Lyrically Crafted Drama of Art and Estrangement Movies 'Crocodile' Review: A Young Nigerian Filmmaking Collective Gets a Fascinating, Frustrating Documentary Showcase We Are All Strangers The Bottom Line An unpolished gem. Venue: Berlin Film Festival (Competition)Cast: Yeo Yan Yan, Koh Jia Ler, Regene Lim, Andi LimDirector-screenwriter: Anthony Chen 2 hours 37 minutes Shot with unflashy elegance (this time by Teoh Gay Hian) and imbued with a strong sense of place, they are intimate stories told against the expansive backdrop of a bustling city stratified with unspoken class divisions, a widening wealth divide and friction between accelerated urban transformation and eroding tradition. Most of all, these chamber pieces share emotional resonance achieved with a minimum of sentimentality. Slapping Cat Stevens’ heart-melter “Father and Son” on the end credits might be an obvious choice in a film that sees those roles evolve — pulling apart, intersecting and ultimately merging. But it makes sense here as an organic extension of the depth of feeling Chen evokes in his four-character portrait. The movie owes a debt to the late Taiwanese pointillist Edward Yang, whose exploration of family — especially in his masterpiece Yi Yi — forged a model of sprawling character-based storytelling that remains unsurpassed. There are distinct echoes here of the struggles, the conflicts and comforts that Yang conveyed with lucidity and compassion, contextualizing his observation of individuals in the social fabric and physical environments of the city where they live. One shot in Chen’s movie, of a wedding celebration replete with clusters of pink balloons and a prominent Double Happiness neon, seems a direct homage to Yi Yi. Chen also takes his cue from Yang with a leisurely running time of more than two-and-a-half hours, an investment generously repaid. (That’s nothing, however, next to the four-hour span of Yang’s other instant classic, A Brighter Summer Day.) Uncomplaining hard-worker Boon Kiat (Andi Lim) runs a cheap and cheerful streetside Hokkein noodle stall. Having no head for business, he hasn’t raised his prices in 10 years, despite the cost of everything in Singapore constantly climbing. His lazy 21-year-old son Junyang (Koh Jia Ler) is about to finish compulsory military service and has given little thought to what comes next. He just knows he wants to make an easier and more lucrative living than his dad. Junyang’s chief interest is his high school sweetheart Lydia (Regene Lim), who comes from a far more well-heeled family, with a haughty mother who insists on speaking only English and seems disdainful of her daughter’s boyfriend. Lydia is preparing to take her college-entrance A Levels in addition to an upcoming piano recital exam. An unforeseen development with Junyang sidelines those plans and drastically changes their future together, accelerating their path to adulthood and responsibility. Meanwhile, gentle-natured Boon Kiat shyly takes a liking to Bee Hwa (Yeo Yan Yan), one of the hostesses pushing beer on customers at tables outside the stall. She’s brassy, tough and has zero tolerance for co-workers moving in on her customers. A Malaysian looking to stay in Singapore rather than do the cross-causeway commute, Bee Hwa is older than her colleagues, which gets her the affectionate designation of “beer auntie.” At first, she feigns indifference to Boon Kiat’s attentions when he starts insisting that she get off her feet and eat something or when he takes her out on his idea of an affordable date — an air-conditioned public bus ride across the city. But faint traces of a smile on Bee Hwa’s face suggest she’s at least fla