A SUMMER AT GRANDPA'S (TAIWAN/1984/HOU HSIAO-HSIEN)

When their mother takes ill, young siblings Ting-Ting and Tung-Tung are forced to move in with their grandparents who live in the country. As with every child, the pair spends the beginning of their summer sojourn pining for mum and dad, particularly as they both struggle to befriend the neighbourhood kids. Grandpa is a stoical character who is best known as the town doctor, but also takes great pleasure in teaching Ting-Ting and Tung-Tung occasionally, and the kids grow close to him over time. Through investigating this new landscape, they also learn about aspects of life completely alien to them, particularly the concept of death which has a particular poignancy when they reflect on their poorly mother back at home.

The film is completely carried by its two leads Wang Chi-Kwang and Sun Cheeng-Lee, who couldn’t be more adorable. Director Hou Hsiao-Hsien focuses most of his attention on the children’s convincing exploration of their environment, but balances the sentimentality with realism, as the adults openly discuss grave matters in front of the children. This hard-hitting sincerity is the film’s virtue, and it never verges on preciousness or sentimentality. The cinematography is beautiful - from the sun-baked train station steps to the crowded dinner table, Hou absorbs every facet of the countryside, much like his young protagonists. It is sad to think that such a gentle, sincere film is unlikely to ever be made in Britain, but A Summer At Grandpa’s is universal enough to fulfil a sense of childhood nostalgia.

REBELS OF THE NEON GOD (TAIWAN/1992/TSAI MING-LIANG)

Hsiao-Kang, a young Taiwanese student, sits at home ravaged by ennui. Having stabbed a fly to death with his compass, he puts his arm through a window and winds up nursing his lacerations for the rest of the evening. Such behaviour is apparently normal for Hsiao-Kang, given the sickening pressures of cram school and his uneasy relationship with his family. Meanwhile, across town we meet Ah-Tze and his girlfriend Ah-Kuei. The two are reasonably casual with their relationship, and spend time together infrequently. When Hsiao-Kang and his father drive past the couple on their motorbike, Ah-Tze smashes their mirror with a bike lock, setting off a series of events that sparks Hsiao-Kang uneasily into revenge mode, with disastrous consequences.

Though on the surface it’s no different to most other films about urban alienation, Rebels of the Neon God is special in that it refuses to treat its young renegade characters like quirky anti-heroes. By contrast with Hsiao-Kang, Ah-Tze and his colleagues undoubtedly seem like the bad kids, but when we see them up close, it is clear they too are just trying to make the best of their situation. The nocturnal cityscape makes a beautifully theatrical setting, echoing the young characters’ undying energy and restlessness. This was director Tsai Ming-Liang’s first feature-length film, a fact that is easy to forget given the strength of the characters and the credibility of their relationships. Calling it the Taiwanese American Graffiti might be going a step too far, but it certainly fulfils expectations.