“I’m a storyteller before I’m a filmmaker:” visualizing story with Life for Sale director Tom Teng

Written by: Alexandra Bentzien

Writer-director Tom Teng signs the 20th anniversary edition NYAFF program books ahead of the premiere of his film, Life for Sale. Credit: Gavin Li.

What draws audiences to Tom Teng’s second feature film is the same curiosity which drew the director to Yukio Mishima’s Life for Sale. Teng first discovered the 1968 Japanese classic after its intriguing title caught his eye in a bookstore. He immediately began turning the pages, in what Teng describes as a serendipitous spark of inspiration, the same one that strikes protagonist Liang in the filmic version of Life for Sale.

Teng, however, did not set out to make an adaptation. The Taiwanese writer-director actually stopped reading the book at certain points, knowing he wanted to reinvigorate the central plot of the novel, to flip its script into a visual work encompassing a mix of genres.

According to Teng, many Taiwanese films consider the meaning of life through questions of love and romance, but Teng wanted to take an unconventional approach to Mishima’s plot, through a kaleidoscopic lens blending black comedy, thriller, and action.

Inspiration for a film arrived early on while Teng read Mishima’s novel, during which he was captivated by the scene wherein Hanio, riding the bus late at night, imagines the words on his newspaper turning into living cockroaches. The richly imagistic language enthralled Teng, who translated the expressive flair of Mishima’s writing into his own cinematic vision.

During the scriptwriting process, an understanding of place was the first aspect of the new realm that materialized for Teng, who remarked, “I begin writing from an opening image that really connects with me.”

Years spent writing after-midnight has produced a story for nocturnal eyes navigating the seedier sides of a cityscape. Life for Sale takes place amidst sinister back alleys, bowling alleys, and underground clubs full of sharp snarling tempers, flickering like the neon of hot red signs, cooling down in the ink-dark blue washing over cutthroat concrete.

Despite the darkness, what emerges is a highly chromatic noir-tinged film, saturated with the same colorful energy as American graphic novels, another point of inspiration for Teng.

“Growing up, I wanted to tell stories, but I didn’t know how. I was drawn to a visual medium as a comic book artist,” Teng explained. Filmmaking is one artistic discipline which allows Teng to balance his identity as an introvert, comfortable working in solitude, and excited to work through ideas with others.

“There’s a joy to working alone; you’re the god of the universe you created. I’m a gemini. I enjoy both sides of filmmaking as a writer-director, writing on my own, and then collaborating on set,” Teng said.

Before enrolling as a film graduate student at the American Film Institute (AFI), Teng was a history major in his native Taiwan, switching after a stint in a marketing program.

Given the literary nature of Life for Sale, the director’s interest in a longue durée as it extends to the meaning of life comes as no surprise. A concern with longevity, for individuals, civilizations, and humanity, informs Teng’s understanding of his own creative identity.

“History is like a long story, with many characters,” Teng said. “And I’m a storyteller before I’m a filmmaker.”

Teng was drawn to Mishima’s novel and the character of Hanio, but did not want to make a film definite by someone’s depression. “Within the first ten minutes, I just wanted to visualize a depressed person’s worldview,” the director said, describing how he worked backwards, seeing the ending before the beginning for a character “cursed by immortality.”

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“I always ask this question: is the advancement of civilization helpful for the well-being of human kind?”

Teng’s ongoing consideration of existential, philosophical questions comes across in the thoughtful countenance which accompanies his reflections on the fragile nature of life and death.

For each individual viewer, the questions that arise throughout Life for Sale will undoubtedly vary. What is the value of life? Does life even have a price? Does death? Does the soul?

These daunting, over-arching questions unfold in theaters of power, harnessed through money, sex, and violence. For Liang, a sense of control over one’s self evaporates through the mundane daze of hopeless loneliness; for the young macho crime boss who buys his life, control could be commanded through brute physical force. For Teng, however, what compels him most as a writer, as a storyteller, are questions of time, the pursuit of understanding its presence as well as its passing, and whether it is possible to exercise control over its progression.

In Life for Sale, Liang is posed janus-faced questions for two defining moments in time, the opposing but intertwined essences of life and death. “What do you live for?” colors the film’s beginning; “What do you die for?” carries the story toward its riveting arc — and its eventual conclusion.

Viewers seeking concrete answers might be disappointed. Teng’s ambition was not to draw a single, universally-applied solution, recognizing that the answer remains different for all people, evolving for different generations. “If you can answer that question, the essence of your life, then you know the value of your life,” Teng said.

“And then what?”