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          | Swimming 
            on the Highway 
 
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          | TAIWAN 
            / 1998 / Chinese / Color / Video / 49 min 
 Director: Wu Yao-tung
 Producer, Source: Wu Yao-tung
 2F, No. 14, Lane 80, ShingAn Street, Taipei 104 Taiwan
 Phone: 886-2-2502-2584
 Fax: 886-2-2503-4704
 E-mail: bm7071@ms5.hinet.net
 
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 | Wu 
            Yao-tung 
 Born in Taipei in 1972.
 Now a student at the Graduate Institute of Sound and Image Studies, 
            Tainan National College of Arts, majoring in documentary. Started 
            making documentaries in 1996. Has directed wl๊y๋Zx(1996), wพyเx(1997) 
            which won the Taipei Special Prize at Taipei Film Awards, and wnEใฤ๊ซะเข^๕ยWx(1998). 
            Swimming on the Highway (1998) won the Grand Prix in the Documentary 
            Section of Golden Grain Awards, and was screened at Hong Kong International 
            Film Festival 1999.
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          | A 30-year-old man, self-destructive and anxious. A 26-year-old friend 
            with a video camera. This is a very personal film about their relationship 
            in the last years of a life - battling the HIV virus. The flamboyant 
            man flirts with the camera, playing with being the subject and object 
            of a film. The filmmaker is tormented, forcing himself to go on with 
            the filming. The sincerity of both in the face of undefeatable facts 
            is moving.
 Director's 
            Statement
 On Taiwan's National Anniversary Day in 1997, under the fireworks 
            in Shi Men Ting, I started filming this documentary about the "love 
            and hatred" between Kuo-tang and me. On that day, I saw his lonely 
            silhouette walking in the crowd, sitting emotionlessly on the sidewalk 
            smoking cigarettes and drinking Taiwanese beer, throwing up in the 
            dark streets. Holding a camera, I thought to myself, "This is dramatic 
            enough. It would be fantastic as a film!" The bus was speeding down 
            the highway, day was about to break. In the bizarre blue light of 
            the dawn, his face, weary of the party the night before, reflected 
            clearly in the windowpane. His face was lean because of the illness, 
            but his eyes were still lively. "It's as if I spent all my life on 
            the road," he said, as if proudly announcing his wandering life to 
            me.
 In June of 1998, in the No. 14 Park next to Regent Hotel, I was keen 
            to end the filming. He sat in front of the camera, relaxed and calm. 
            I shouted at him, "Why are you like this? Aren't you afraid?" He said, 
            "I'm acting! I'm playing the person I used to be." I said depressed 
            to myself, "Finish as soon as possible!"
 The filming lasted a whole year. What existed all the time between 
            us was the fight. The fight between the one who filmed and the one 
            who was filmed, the fight to control the camera, the fight of honesty 
            and trust between friends. But inside of him, it was probably the 
            fight of life and death. Of course I don't understand, how life can 
            be so bitter, desperate, anxious and indifferent. It is not a matter 
            of the essence of documentary or of interference. Nor is it a matter 
            of academic theories or practice. It is just me and him, the questions 
            between us, that's all.
 
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