An Impossibly Small Object (2018)

Directed by: David Verbeek | 100 minutes | drama, fantasy | Actors: Lucia, Chen-Hung Chung, David Verbeek, Klara Mucci, Lisa Lu, Tine Joustra

The Dutch filmmaker David Verbeek has been working for several years now with a clever and interesting oeuvre. The fact that his name will not ring a bell with everyone, however, may have everything to do with the fact that his films are largely set in China and the surrounding area. In addition, his work has something transcendental about it. That may not be for everyone, but for those who dare to surrender, a world of somewhat veiled but deep emotions opens up. While the oriental decors may appear to come from another planet at first glance, moods are universal. The unknown is known automatically. As a result, Verbeek effectively bridges the gap between East and West. In times when boundaries are again being raised far above knee height, Verbeek shows how things can be done differently.

In ‘An Impossible Small Object’, Verbeek also searches for what binds us together. He even does that quite literally, by presenting himself as a character. Verbeek plays an unnamed Dutch photographer who shoots an intriguing image of a girl playing with her kite in a parking lot at night in Taipei, Taiwan. That photo is examined by two subsidy editors in the opening scene. The two have little eye for visual aesthetics. They are more interested in the girl’s unusual attitude and the fact that she plays with her beloved kite in that equally unusual place and time. Instead of accepting the image, they condemn it. Western bias and ignorance stand in the way of any objective judgment. Moreover, the photographer, in his attempt to connect, is also reprimanded. Everything that is strange should remain so.

After that distant opening, the film’s attention shifts to the girl herself, flying her kite in that darkened parking lot. This gives the viewer the opportunity to judge the truthfulness of that image with his own hands. Initially it takes some searching. The camera, stylishly controlled by documentary filmmaker Morgan Knibbe (‘Those Who Feel The Fire Burning’), initially floats frivolously (but measured) around the girl and her kite. The search is for any meaning. But maybe that’s just the point. By putting aside our judging capacity, often colored by a Western superior perspective, the image can reveal itself freely. Only when the viewer allows himself to be carried along, and actually sees and feels, does the image acquire meaning.

The girl, Xiao Han, spends her after-school days on the streets of Taipei. Her parents are too busy with their food stall. Her older brother doesn’t care about her either. She has friends, but not many. Her kite is perhaps her most loyal companion. Especially when her best friend Hao Hao is about to move to the United States. Grown-up problems pass her by, at the same time her own difficulties are world-class. That’s not a bad thing, because the world can still revolve around her at that age. The innocent child’s perspective puts her next to reality, as it were, in a world of boundlessness and security.

The storyline of Xiao Han is interspersed with that of photographer Verbeek, who travels lonely through the Taiwanese capital in search of the most beautiful photo locations. Once back in the Netherlands, he cannot shake the feeling of loneliness. He does not feel at home there. Because he has traveled so often, he gradually becomes detached from his surroundings. Reality slides past him incessantly. But the sense of security he remembers from his childhood is gone. Thus, the two storylines converge thematically into one. And the unknown turns out not to be so strange after all.