Nature and Urban Spaces in The Falls (2021)

Kuo Yi Quan delves into the role nature and urban spaces come to a head in the Taiwanese film The Falls (2021), set during the COVID-19 pandemic.

The Falls (瀑布) is a 2021 Taiwanese drama film written and directed by Chung Mong-Hong (who also co-wrote and directed 2019’s A Sun) that centres around a strained mother-daughter relationship amidst the COVID-19 pandemic. Tension and uncertainty are rife as Pin-wen (Alyssa Chia) faces a salary cut, while her daughter Xiao Jing (Gingle Wang) is sent home due to an outbreak of COVID at school. Mother and daughter are quarantined in their apartment, forcing them to confront their tense relationship. Pin-wen’s stress comes to a head: she experiences a mental breakdown as she struggles with estrangement from her daughter and lingering feelings for her ex-husband. The film follows the fallout and healing of the mother-daughter relationship as they navigate this ‘new normal’.

One striking aspect of the film, personally, was the presentation of urban spaces. Initially, the protagonists are steeped in urban spaces, even trapped within them as a result of the burgeoning pandemic. The camera framing reflects this by placing heavy visual emphasis on walls in their apartment building, in particular the claustrophobic greige corridors and the walls of the common living area. They seem to tower over and close in on the protagonists. Construction tarp cascades down the exterior of the apartment building in a crude imitation of a waterfall, separating the unit from the outside world and casting an oppressive blue hue in the space. The physical and mental isolation felt by Pin-wen and Xiao Jing is set against the harsh and unfriendly modernised landscape, establishing the ‘unnaturalness’ of urban spaces in that they separate man from interactions with nature and one another.

Additionally, the film emphasises the tendency of urban spaces to provide its occupants with alternatives to interactions with nature. Roads are lined with rows of trimmed trees and shrubs peek out along the walkways, yet these serve merely as transitory spaces for the characters; little attention is paid to the greenery as the camera sweeps briskly and off-handedly over them. Dialogue scenes are set in front of paintings of oceans and fields and wallpaper of forestry — these lacklustre reproductions of nature are ever present in offices and hospitals, mocking characters’ inability to attain meaningful interaction with each other and nature. Pin-wen’s stress and isolation are amplified within this smothering urban hellscape, and she begins hallucinating the sound of waterfalls.

Degas, E. (1885). The Riders [Oil on canvas]. National Gallery of Art, Washington D. C., United States of America.

Image obtained from https://www.nga.gov/collection/art-object-page.164915.html.

Pin-wen is institutionalised for an unspecified mental condition, which is revealed nearer to the end of the film to be schizophrenia. Much like other spaces in the film, the hospital walls are decorated with paintings of sublime, idyllic landscapes. She observes one painting in particular, a monochromatic painting depicting riders in a valley. Ru-xuan (Waa Wei), an enigmatic patient, tells Pin-wen that the painting had originally been coloured in delicate pastels which had faded into a melancholic blue over time (the actual painting entitled The Riders by Edward Degas is quite well-preserved and currently hangs on display at the National Gallery of Art in Washington DC). Similar to Pin-wen’s apartment, a blue hue engulfs the painting and even the hospital ward itself. Bathed in the cobalt light, both Ru-xuan and Pin-wen bond over their inexplicable melancholy and yearning to get better and leave the hospital.

Eventually Pin-wen is discharged and continues recovery, and as she relearns to navigate the world beyond the hospital ward, the roles of nature and urban spaces shift. The blue tarp is removed, allowing light to stream in through the windows. Cast in a mid-afternoon glow, the apartment is no longer a symbol of Pin-wen’s hurt and entrapment but rather brings her a tender moment of serenity and closure. Meanwhile her relationship with Xiao Jing mends as Xiao Jing continues to shoulder the responsibilities of caring for her mother while learning to empathise with her. They stroll in a park and chat leisurely, a stark contrast to their earlier stand-offish exchanges. Xiao Jing’s confrontation with her father also takes place in a park. Her face is dappled with sunlight as she lashes out at her father (Lee Lee-zen); the children’s playground in the back is out of focus but still distinguishable among the trees. For Xiao Jing, parks extend beyond transitory spaces, becoming a space for much-needed emotional connection and reckoning with her parents. The incorporation of nature in urban environments seems to have restorative effects on the protagonists, and thus these spaces also serve as the backdrop for meaningful interactions between characters.

Interestingly, the film’s final act problematises natural spaces. Xiao Jing goes on an excursion with her classmates while Pin-wen goes to work as usual. There is a sense of regained normalcy as Xiao Jing and her friends play carefreely by a stream while Pin-wen navigates everyday tasks. The film cuts between both protagonists and the vivid natural environment contrasts against the drab, dull city, confirming an inherent opposition between both. Yet Nature, in its unfathomable manner, disrupts this tentative happiness when an unexplained flood sweeps Xiao Jing and her friends away. Perhaps meant as a reminder of nature’s ability to be unkind or a hasty way to tie back to the film’s title, it rejects the notion of natural environments as solely healing and restorative. In the end, though, Xiao Jing is shown to be rescued right before the film cuts to its title card and the credits roll.

Chung Mong-Hong’s meditation on COVID-19 seemingly builds on the universal yearning for the great outdoors during the quarantine, drawing striking visual emphasis to everyday spaces that are often overlooked. The interplay between urban spaces and nature is part of the film’s central exploration of mental illness and the dynamics within a mother-daughter relationship, though it rejects labelling either as outrightly detrimental or beneficial to man. This uneasy coexistence of urbanity and nature contributes to the underlying tension between the protagonists and within themselves as individuals.