SOUND:

Masculine Voice

In The Acoustic Mirror Kaja Silverman has suggested that female voice is aligned with interiority, confinement and self-presence, while male voice-over is culturally and cinematically accepted as a synonym of direct, authoritative speech. The male voice is thus perceived as the source of knowledge and hermeneutics, as what Silverman designates "the origin of the text." However, while it is true that the male voice is used to address historical facts, the manner in which it is placed in the context of the images creates a historical tension between the pedagogical and the personal. The male voices connected to the most powerful historical figures --- the Japanese Emperor, Chiang Kai-shek's Governer Chen Yi --- are invisible rulers. The simultaneous visual absense and aural omnipresence of these powerful, patriarchal figures elicites a subtle, yet powerful, critique of colonial rule.

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I. The opening scene --- the birth of Older Brother's son and the rebirth of the nation. (A: O:31-4:20)
The radio broadcast of the Japanese emperor's speech announcing his nation's surrender provides the sonic landscape for the film's opening scene; the visual track depicts the labor of the Oldest Brother's concubine. This first scene also provides the first example of gendered diegetic voice in narrating pedagogical speech of nations. The soundtrack used here has an obvious historical referent as well as a metaphorical function. The sound of this famous speech signifies the end of colonial rule in Taiwan along with Japanese imperial hegemony. The childbearing in return signifies the celebration of Taiwan's separation from Japan's colonial rule and a new era in the island's history. This moment was the first time people had heard the emperor's voice. As Japanese historian Tamura Tsuraeda points out, the transmission of the emperor's "pure" physical voice (at least for the local audience) reflects an indexical referent to a Japanese imperial sign of what she called "yujin fangsong" (presence of His Majesty's jade-like voice).
However, "yujin fangsong" in the context of this period's history holds complex connotations for Taiwanese. When Taiwan became part of Japan's colonial territories at the beginning of the twentieth century, the Taiwanese were forced to convert to Japanese language and culture, what Anderson has called an "official nationalism" imposed from above. As a result, the fictional characters of the diegesis and those who experienced that process of colonization are afforded linguistic access to this speech, while most spectators are familiar with its sound but not its meaning (there are no subtitles for this sound). The opening diegetic sound thus serves as an indexical historical referent within both diegetic and extra-diegetic levels.
 
II. Mandarin lesson. (A: 14:09-14:42)
The informative, authoritative male speech is also present in an earlier scene when the hospital staff is being trained to speak Mandarin to accommodate the influx of mainlanders. The shot first shows Hinomi writing in her diary during a break, but her space is soon invaded by a male speaking voice. The next shot cuts into the space of an aged male teacher, who drills his students in Mandarin in a high-pitch, accented voice. Here the economy of shots efficiently articulates the scene's discursive dialogism by juxtaposing private writing and pedagogical indoctrination. This simple class in Mandarin signifies not only a linguistic shift but also massive historical change: the arrival of the Nationalist regime and the replacement of Japanese culture by mainland Chinese culture.
 
III. The Prison Sequence. (B: 43:42-46:38)
The sequence of Wen-ching in the prison depicts the Nationalist military's cold-blooded executions of Taiwanese. As in other parts of the film, the entire sequence is devoid of the visual images of actual killing. Yet again, through the use of sound and verbal language, the terror is revealed. Here we focus only on the first half of the sequence. Constituted by only three long takes, the scene begins with the shot of a dim wall lamp on a wall with the diegetic sound of marching. The next shot cuts into a dark space where we can barely see a soldier's back as he leans forward to open a cell door. The door opens, and we hear the soldier bark, "Wu Chi-wen, Tsui Tung-ho, appear in court."
"Appearing in court" initially sounds like the prisoners are being summoned for their turn in the legal procession. However, the way the prisoners silently dress themselves, solemnly shake hands with their fellow prisoners, and the diegetic sounds of singing from other cells invoke the spectator's suspicion regarding what kind of court they are called to. As the prisoners walk out of the cell, and the door closes behind, the long-take shot becomes dark and we hear that same marching sound. The scene finally cuts to the third shot where we see Wen-ching framed by the prison window. He looks off-screen, as though he could actually hear the fading footsteps of the guards and prisoners, but his face shows no reaction to the sharp report of rifles outside. For all but Wen-ching, the sounds of execution by gunfire punctuate the sonic orders of the guards (and their State), leaving a deadly silence in their wake.

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