Image from “A Holy Family” (2020). Used under fair use for commentary purposes.

At Dinner Table #01｜A Holy Family (2020): What We Can’t Say, What Still Stays

You don’t always return to home. Sometimes, you orbit it for years, quietly.

Official poster of “A Holy Family” (2020). Used under fair use for commentary purposes.

A Holy Family｜神人之家｜Hsiao Ya-chuan | Taiwan | 2020 | 97 mins | Mandarin, Taiwanese

There are places you don’t return to. You just orbit them, quietly, for years. 有些地方不是用來回去的，而是讓你繞著它轉，靜靜地，很多年。

I. A Film That Took Years to Arrive 一部等了很多年的電影 I didn’t see when it was first released. At the time, I was already living in Berlin, and none of the local theaters screened it. Friends in Taiwan kept recommending it, so I half-joked: maybe I’ll just bring it here myself. 我沒有在它上映時看《神人之家》。 那時我已經住在柏林，這裡的戲院沒有上映這部片。 我身邊的朋友一個個跟我推薦，我還開玩笑說，那不如我自己去問片商好了，把它帶來放。

Years passed. In 2024, through Stefano, the producer of the documentary, and my dear colleague NS, we finally found the rights and brought it to Berlin as the opening film of the Taiwan Film Festival Doc.. 好幾年過去了，直到 2024 年，我們終於透過製作人 Stefano 和我親愛的同事 NS 找到版權， 讓它成為柏林台灣紀錄片影展的開幕片。

Some films are worth waiting for. 這部片，值得等。

II. Places That Don’t Fit Anymore 那些再也穿不下的地方 I left Tainan at eighteen. Moved to Kaohsiung. Then Berlin at twenty-eight. Every time I return, something has changed: the way people pay, the places we used to go. Once, someone mentioned Lamp — a club in Kaohsiung — but it had long become a parking lot. 我十八歲搬離台南到高雄，二十八歲又搬到柏林。 每次回台灣都會發現什麼變了：新的支付方式、變成連鎖店的老店、甚至連過去常去的地方都不見了。 有次有人提到高雄夜店 Lamp，結果才發現早就變成停車場。

A Holy Family is full of these absences. Old temples, old men, old debts that no one wants to name. 《神人之家》裡全是這種「缺席」。 舊廟、老人、講不出口的債，和那些只能以沈默遞送的情感。

I watched it thinking: I know this air. Wet. Warm. Carrying cigarette smoke and incense. 我一邊看一邊想：我認得這種空氣。 濕熱裡混著煙味與拜拜的香，是身體會記得的氣味。

III. The Fifth Floor, Where the Buddha Lives 佛在五樓，灰塵也在 There’s a scene where the whole family prays together. That was the one that caught me. 有一幕是一家人一起拜拜，那一幕讓我一瞬間有點哽住。

We had a shrine on the fifth floor too. Back when I still lived in Tainan, I hated going up there — hated the heat, the dust, the smell of joss sticks. But now, whenever I go back, it’s the one thing I still do. 我家也有佛堂，在五樓。 我住台南時最討厭上去，太熱、太悶、太多香灰味。 但現在每次回家，反而覺得那是我唯一能做的事了。

Not out of faith. But because it’s the only ritual that makes me feel like I’m participating. 不是因為信仰，而是因為我不知道還能做什麼。 這是我僅存的參與方式。

IV. You’re the One Who Left 你就是那個走掉的人 My brother once told me: “You were always going to leave. Nobody could’ve stopped you.” 我弟曾說過一句話：「你就是那個會走的人，沒人攔得住你。」

I wanted to argue. But I didn’t. Because maybe he was right. 我本來想反駁，卻什麼都沒說。 或許他說得沒錯。

In A Holy Family, the director returns to a family he never really left. He’s there, but he’s also not there. The camera moves like a relative who visits only during funerals. 《神人之家》的導演回到一個他其實從未真正離開的家庭。 他在場，但也不完全在。 他的鏡頭就像那種只在告別式出現的親戚，走進來，也只是靜靜地看著。

And still, he tries. He films the mundane. The awkward. The things people skip over. Because sometimes, trying is the most we can do. 但他還是試了。 他拍下那些日常、沉默與尷尬，還有大家都刻意略過的事。 因為有時候，努力本身就是一種愛的形式。

V. What Remains 留下來的東西 You don’t get a final answer in this film. But you get gestures. Glances. A son handing his father tea. A daughter sweeping ash from the altar. 這部片沒有給觀眾答案。 它只留下動作和眼神。 一個兒子遞茶給父親、一個女兒在香爐邊擦灰。

There’s love in these half-acts. Not enough to fix anything. But enough to stay. 這些小動作裡藏著愛。 不夠解決問題，但足夠讓人留下。

And maybe that’s all we can hope for. 或許，那就夠了。

Watch the Trailer

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Where to Watch A Holy Family— Available via Taiwan Docs distribution and select film festivals

Image Credit All images are screenshots captured by the author for commentary use.