Fantasia Review: Bliss: Beyond the Edge of Time takes Eastern Philosophy into the far-flung future

I believe we have reached the end of my Fantasia coverage for this year, and to celebrate, we're going beyond the edge of time. Buckle up.

BLISS: Beyond the Edge of Time is a fascinating anthology film that draws from Eastern philosophy to create a collection of animated sci-fi shorts that illustrate various elements of the I Ching in unexpected ways. The I Ching is an ancient Chinese text that is built on the idea of Yin and Yang as opposing forces that dictate the course of the universe. These two forces are depicted as either broken (Yin) and unbroken (Yang) lines that stack on top of each other to form hexagrams, each of which is a series of six lines. These are used by those who are seeking wisdom, answers to life's problems, or fortunes about the future.

In this anthology, each short is preceded by a hexagram and a few lines of philosophical wisdom which serve as the thematic core or basis for the short to come. It's a really cool concept for an anthology, and because there's this strong idea at the center of the project, I found myself pretty happy watching this even when a particular short wasn't really my jam.

And that's how it goes with any anthology film, especially one like this where each segment is directed by a different filmmaker. Each viewer will probably latch onto different shorts, and that's part of the pleasure. It's like a mini buffet of fascinatingly curated dishes, and if one isn't to your taste, there's no need to worry: another course will be served up soon.

The film starts off strong with what I think is its best segment, Kevin Geiger's Whispers in the Void. The film follows a woman and her android companion, who is due to have her memory reset in a few months' time. They're on a mission to find a jailbreak code on an abandoned vessel that will allow them to stop this impending erasure. Leizu, the human, is determined to find this code so she can preserve their relationship. Mira, the android, wonders if their time might be better spent just enjoying these last few months together rather than fighting fate. The memory reset is part of her programming -- why fight it?

The answer: lesbianism.

Whispers in the Void

Leizu (a likely name, eh?) and Mira are in love, and when we meet them, they are scantily clad and cuddling in bed. (I saw one Letterboxd review that said the filmmaker was surely animating with one hand, which made me laugh.) Leizu often lashes out, wondering if their love is real, or if Mira is just responding in a way that she knows will pacify her ward, mirroring the emotions she's learned to understand, even if she can't feel them. The film goes in an unexpected direction -- it's impressive how much it packs into its brief runtime. It made me tear up as it grappled with the question of if love can survive death, whatever that death looks like. Can it be reborn, established anew? 

Next up is a train-set segment called The Last Faith, directed by Liu Yu Shu. Shan Tsai is a religious acolyte aboard an ever-shifting train that is designed to measure and test his faith. As he moves from car to car, the train changes to match his psyche, raising new obstacles as he tries to whisk away a container of incense. Along the way, he's taunted by a holographic guide called Dharma Joy, whose blue hair and wild personality spice up the proceedings.

This was one of the segments I didn't really respond to. It feels like it has a good idea at its core -- the question of how faith can be measured and quantified, and whether it needs to be able to be quantified to be real -- but the trappings around that question aren't super compelling. If anything, this felt like a short that needed more room to breathe. Maybe it would be better served as a feature?

For me, the low point of BLISS is The Ship of Theseus, by Chiu Li-wei. It focuses on a man who works as a customer service agent for a new AI World, into which most of the world's population has sent their consciousness. The real world is on the verge of shutting down, and the man and his daughter are among the last humans remaining in it. It feels like a matter of time before they finally surrender and join the rest of humanity in the virtual world. The people from the other side chide him for not taking the leap yet as he hosts an internet radio show about his life, pondering if and when he should finally cross over.

If that sounds like a good concept, that's because it is. But the way this short unfolds is so confusing and jumbled. It jumps between various points in the timeline and (I think) real evens and imagined ones. I kept finding myself unable to understand if a scene I was watching was actually happening, or was a flashback, or was a dream, or what. It gets so dire that I had to eventually just give up on understanding and just try to enjoy the ride, which I wasn't really able to do. I think with such a short amount of time to play in, this should've stuck to a more linear approach, since the constant jumping around really killed any emotional payoff this was trying to achieve. A swing and a miss.

The Poacher, directed by Jo-jo Hwang, is one of my favorites in the package. It has a great anime look to it, and it feels maybe the most unique out of all of the segments. It follows the capture of a clouded leopard, an animal so rare it's basically a mythological creature. It's been brought in to a zoo where it will be cared for by bubbly, sweet Ling and her colleague, Vet, who oversees the medical side of the operation. They seem to really care for the animals in their care, so it seems like it might be a good place for the clouded leopard to grow up.

The Poacher

But a group of animal rights activists have other plans. They believe all animals should live freely, and they break into the zoo's compound to try to free the creature. During their face-off, it becomes clear that the two sides may be more aligned than they realize: both are doing their best to try to protect this special animal (and all animals), but they have different approaches to ensuring that. It reaches this conclusion in a perfectly paced and natural way. I felt like I was right where the short wanted me to be, wondering at first who was in the right, and then realizing by the end that it's just a matter of perspective and approach.

The Poacher also has maybe the best payoff of any of the shorts, with a really nifty ending that is a poetic and thought-provoking twist. 

The penultimate segment, Leo Liao's Re-Soul, is the one that grew the most on me during its runtime. At first, I was put off by the live-action start and the set-up that felt like I've been there and done that. A woman goes to a Taoist monk to help her bring her baby daddy out of the virtual world. He's been logged in for days, and she hasn't been able to reach him. The monk accompanies her into that world to reach him, but the situation isn't as simple as it seems.

Re-Soul ends up tipping pretty strongly into a horror vibe, as the characters walk through ghostly echoes of old memories involving how the woman, Yara, met this man, Ryan. Yara ends up taking a kind of monstrous turn, and some of the visuals are super creepy and gross. The animation veers into kind of blocky, goopy, "bad" looking chaos, which feels very intentional and appropriate, considering the character's descent into madness, or something like it. A disturbing segment that will surely stick with me.

The final segment is my other favorite, which goes to show that I am, at the end of the day, a romantic: Jade Lien's Paradise Lo5t. The film takes place on an alien planet which has just over two weeks left to live. A gigantic black hole hovers in the sky overhead, and doom is imminent. Many people are reacting strongly, as you might expect: abandoning their families, committing suicide, trying to find a solution. Z is a handsome young man whose parents have opted for this latter option: they've sold everything they own and managed to snag tickets aboard the Ark, a vessel leaving the planet, perhaps the last chance of survival for hte citizens of this planet. (Of course, there's online chatter questioning if it's even a real solution, if there's any hope for humanity to be found anywhere.)

Z decides to spend his last day on a date with Dorothy, a longtime friend/crush who is delighted he's finally asking her out. He whisks her away on a hoverbike-type vehicle and the two go to a long-abandoned amusement park, one that they went to when they were kids. Now, the rides are shut off, most of the games don't work. It's a hollow echo of a world that once was and that will never be again. There's no time to rebuild.

Paradise Lo5t

It's a wistful bit of romance, the two treasuring these new memories knowing they won't have the chance to make many more. Z is supposed to leave that night, and even if he weren't leaving, there's still a deadline on, well, everything. The hand-drawn animation and tragic romance made a big impression on me, and it's such a strong segment to end on. 

The film's bookends both being romantic stories feels like a powerful statement, that everything we've seen is wrapped up, in one way or another, in love. Whether it's romantic love, love for a family, love for a faith, love for humanity in general. It's a poignant throughline that helps the film feel of a piece, even though each short looks and feels so different from all the others. The whole thing feels like a true labor of love, so much creativity and thought put into how to bring these philosophical ideas and concepts into the sci-fi genre. It left me feeling a lot, and with a lot to ponder over. While BLISS: Beyond the Edge of Time isn't the most consistent anthology film, I love its central conceit and the big swings the various filmmakers took. It makes for a memorable and impactful package.