Growing Pains
Mabel Cheung’s decade-spanning biodoc turns the camera on a generation that got a ton shoved onto its plate.
To my Nineteen-Year-Old Self
Director: Mabel Cheung • Writer: Mabel Cheung
Featuring: Ruth Lee, Britney, Chloe, Karen, Katy, Jenny
Hong Kong • 2hrs 16mins
Opens Hong Kong February 2 [Suspended February 6] • IIA
Grade: B
[Ed note: Screenings of this film have been suspended and/or cancelled following lack of consent allegations. Details here. We’ll keep you posted if anything changes.]
Would you enjoy knowing the foolery of your youth, from roughly 11 years old to 20-ish, was on a DVD or streaming service out there, somewhere, for all to see for all eternity? I wouldn’t either. But that’s the case for the class, and specifically a half-dozen or so girls (now women) who agreed to be tailed for a decade in Mabel Cheung Yuen-ting’s To My Nineteen-Year-Old Self | 給十九歲的我. Nineteen is just opening now, though it was kinda sorta scheduled for the end of 2020 (which got canned) then for 2021, though Cheung was still editing down the 200,000 hours of raw footage to just over two. Then came early 2022, and, yeah, well the ’Rona again. But a series of weekend screenings did bang up business over the past few months, suggesting there’s an appetite for this chronicle of a generation coming of age in a divided city, in 2014 during Umbrella and then in 2019.
The doc was commissioned by the relatively elite (and very Jesus-y) Ying Wa Girls’ School in Mid-Levels initially to be a record of the 100-years-old campus’s demolition and redevelopment, but the former principal, Ruth Lee (who appears in the film) and Cheung (an alumnus) agreed the more interesting story would be to track the growth of some of the school’s students. Why is all this important? Well, what we potentially have is a portrait of a school, commissioned by the school – not the filmmaker – shot during a tumultuous, politically charged few years. And though Cheung would likely bristle at having her editorial integrity questioned, after being named a non-official member of CE John Lee’s new Task Force on Promoting and Branding Hong Kong (alongside developer Adrian Cheng, restaurateur Allan Zeman, banker David Liao and TVB boss Li Ruigang among others) it’s worth noting. Because documentaries can be tricky business.
You probably knew this girl
All that said, Nineteen is a fascinating, accessible and resonant peek behind the teenaged curtain in 2010s Hong Kong. The knee-jerk response is to compare it to Michael Apted’s, well, incomparable Up Series – 7 Plus Seven, 21 Up, 28 Up and so on to 63 – which has followed the same group of 14 Brits for their entire lives now. Ten years is a far cry from a half-century so the scope is considerably narrower. It’s a bit closer in time span to Richard Linklater’s 2014 Boyhood, which was, however, a feature that starred the same cast for 12 years in a fictional story. Nineteen falls somewhere in between. It should also be noted that of Apted’s 14, 10 are men and Boyhood says it all. It’s nice to see the camera turned on our girls for once.
Cheung’s choices on who would get the spotlight were almost prescient, given that in 2011 not much was going on. The main subjects are the pretty and slightly moody Britney, who’s also That Girl. The one who develops quicker and dares to date. Without saying as much she’s the one who unfairly gets dubbed the tramp. Chloe is nicknamed Birdy, and by her own admission is the comic relief. She aspires to be a historian, and has the most outwardly affectionate relationship with her parents. Karen is the film’s lightning rod: she’s nicknamed Madam for her desire to join Hong Kong’s finest. In 2014 and then in 2019, admitting you wanted to be a cop was the kiss of death, and as a child Karen was forced to carry that weight. Katy was called Miss Hong Kong for self-professed obvious reasons, which could have been a distraction from her messy home life. Jenny rounds out the central players, an introverted, budding competitive cyclist who has to balance academics and athletics and the pressure to do both well. The issues the five young women wrestle with encompass everything from political ideology, sexuality, mental health, societal and familial obligation, personal ambition and anxiety over the future. It also touches on fluffier teen stuff too (cute boys). It’s not all grim.
To My Nineteen-Year-Old Self is a relatively monumental achievement, and one that’s more focused – and fare more hopeful – than Cheung King-wai’s 2016 The Taste of Youth | 少年滋味, which didn’t shy away from subjects like drug abuse, poverty and teen pregnancy over the span of a single school year. The girls at Ying Wa are privileged, and deep down you know they’re going to be okay (or you hope they will). Which is not to say that their hopes and fears, opinions and emotions are invalid. But it does mean their experience of the 2010s is a singular one. Of course, the film’s greatest strength is its recognisability. No matter where you lived, if you went to high school in Hong Kong – 50 years ago or alongside these girls – you’re likely to have more than a few “Oh, yes!” moments that transport you right back to Form 4 and confirmation you’re not alone. If you didn’t, well, Nineteen becomes a window on a particular segment of a generation in a particular space that we can all agree has its work cut out for it. Here’s hoping Cheung tracks down Britney, Karen, Chloe et al 10 years from now. — DEK