As diversity and representation continues to flourish as a prominent issue on the global stage, cinema has taken a front seat in sharing stories of those who rarely get heard. In recent years, we have seen a slew of filmmakers create stories about marginalized and underrepresented populations. Specifically for the LGBTQ+ community, cinema continues to be a strong source of narration for complex stories set within worlds not usually depicted through commercial filmmaking. With Alifu, the Prince/ss, Wang Yu-Lin takes viewers on a journey about being transgender in the context of tribal traditions and wavering self-identification.
Alifu, the Prince/ss introduces Alifu (newcomer Utjung Tjakivalid), an urban dwelling man in the midst of transitioning into a woman. Alifu identifies as a female, and pending reconstructive surgery, lives life as a female hairdresser in Taipei. Life gets complicated as Alifu’s father Dakanao (Parangalan), who serves as the chief of a Paiwan tribe on the outskirts of Taiwan, plans for retirement and assumes that his only living son will be taking over his post. While Dakanao seems to be aware of Alifu’s gender indifferences, and has an unwavering love for his son, he struggles with his rooted responsibilities as the sole protector of his tribe’s relatively traditional values.
The film is rounded out by a number of characters who help explore issues of identity and acceptance in the modern world. Alifu’s roommate Li Pei-Zhen (Chao Yi-Lan) is a hairdresser who works at the same salon, and serves as a strong moral support system for Alifu both at work and in their personal life. Although Alifu surrounds himself with an inclusive social circle — including a trans woman Sherry (Bamboo Chu-Sheng Chen), the owner of a drag bar (Pong Fong Wu) and a reporter (Cheng Jen-Shuo) who secretly performs at said bar — he struggles to break free from the tribal traditions of his own heritage.
It’s hard to believe that this is Tjakivalid’s first starring role in a film. As the titular character, he carries the film with a natural grace and perfection that elevates the story in a powerful way. When the film begins, Alifu is going through both a physical and mental transformation, and Tjakivalid emulates this journey with a transformative performance.
Equally as impressive is Chen’s performance as a transgender woman, which never feels over the top. It’s hard to make broad comparative statements regarding Chen’s performance, as transgender people are rarely represented on screen in such a serious manner, which is something a film like Alifu hopes to change.
But where Alifu truly succeeds is its ability to depict a compelling story about transgender identification without being overtly identified as a ‘transgender film.’ Alifu is a relatively understated character, as the film progresses, it becomes a natural assumption to viewers that he identifies as female. The reveal happens early in the film, but it’s hardly a big moment and is simply just a part of the overall narrative.
By doing this, Wang is able to craft a story about identity and acceptance that feels universal, regardless of one’s sexual identity. This sense of natural and comprehensive storytelling is also reflected in the screenplay, where conversations are never overly dramatic. Even when Alifu is confronted by his father about his sexual identity and inherited responsibilities to the tribe, the film doesn’t descend into melodrama. Instead, we witness mature conversations between adults and the emotional implications that these conversations have on their lives.In the end, this is a film that explores both the social and interpersonal aspects of living as a transgender individual in the modern world. The added complexity of coming to terms with the clashing of personal identity versus traditional values, makes Alifu, the Prince/ss a unique piece of cinema that feels truly explorative. For most viewers, there will certainly be a sense of unfamiliarity, which punctuates the importance of films like this.
This review was first posted at VCinema on May 4, 2018 as part of coverage for the 2018 Chinese Visual Festival. This review has been edited and reposted with their permission.
