Substance & Aesthetics 特效是一种无所顾忌的自在

Mention of CGI often brings to mind blockbusters depicting planetary threats and epic battles, but could these graphical innovations be used for something a bit more personal? Science fiction and comic-book adaptations are great, but how could this new form of moving image be harnessed for more introspective or insightful means? This is a topic of deep reflection for filmmaker Andrew Thomas Huang, whose work tells quiet stories elevated by powerful imagery.

He’s well known for making work that breaks down these boundaries, using painterly motifs and digital tools. Music videos for the likes of  Bjork, FKA Twigs, and Serpentwithfeet burst with computer art in new and creative ways. Short films such as Flesh Nest—which features a couple entwined in each other’s arms as a new, artificial world grows around them, using their skin as fertile grounds—test our perception of what filmmaking can be.

After working in a major production studio and realizing that commercial filmmaking would never do it for him, he began exploring alternatives. “When Trump was elected in 2016 I slowly began to turn my lens toward more personal subject matter,” he says.

Huang is a gay Chinese-American who grew up in Los Angeles, where his father emigrated to from Hong Kong. His mother’s parents are also immigrants, having moved to the States from the Toisan region after World War II. And so, the election of a president who campaigned largely on hateful rhetoric and an anti-immigration platform forced him to look inwards. “Reflecting on my heritage and family history began to take priority in my life and I began asking myself why I couldn’t use the same tools and visual language that I use in larger film productions and music videos to talk about my personal story.”

Huang was raised on films and television featuring almost no Asian characters, and even fewer non-white stories about gay people. Telling his own story meant he could reach others who similarly grew up without representation in media. He believes putting more types of faces on screen is central to a more equitable society: “How can young people dream of certain paths if they don’t see themselves reflected in a given industry? We have to give under-represented artists the gate keys, and we have to showcase their work.”

This newfound dedication didn’t come with an abandon of visual-forward aesthetics however. “Visuals will always be the first instinct for me; I’ve always liked things that took me out of reality, that were brazenly artificial with unapologetic style,” Huang says. “I feel like sometimes in the indie narrative world, there’s a dominance of social realism that often ignores style.”

Huang pays meticulous attention to every visual detail, from styling, makeup, and custom jewelry to choreography, lighting, and, of course, visual effects. Anything that will add to the mood of the story is piled into the frame, and the result is vibrant and explosive, challenging notions that style must be compromised for narrative. His visual leanings are perhaps best exemplified by the music videos he’s created, and he relishes this type of collaboration. But he also bristles at its limits at times, complaining that “in the fashion, commercial and music video world, style is priority, often at the expense of substance.”

Due to his reputation, people often expect maximalist visuals, a sensory onslaught of images. His more subtle works have received mixed reactions from those clutching the purse strings, much to his dismay. “Mixed media and visual effects mean that my films are inherently expensive, which is frustrating sometimes,” he says. “I wish I could be one of those people that could just make a film with a camera, a script, and an actor, but the bells and whistles of visual storytelling are what I’m known for. Often when I’ve tried more minimal approaches, people look at the work and get confused.”

He thinks the best visual filmmaking requires narrative substance, and with back-to-back crises across the world this past year alone, he’s slowing down to focus on the stories he believes are necessary to tell. His first entry from this new perspective comes in the coming-of-age story of a teen girl told through a dream-like lens of kaleidoscopic colors and vintage styling. He hopes to turn this into a feature-length project. It builds on previous work like the tale of a young man working at his family’s restaurant who meets a deity and embarks on his first gay experience in a mystic otherworld. His piece about a brooklyn flex dancer interacting with a dark, mysterious force might be considered a precursor to both of these.

“Once images go out into the world they can do good or they can inflict harm,” Huang says. “So I think I’ve been more sensitive lately to the cost and consequences of putting work out there. Our time together on this planet is limited and given the tumultuous political and economic environment we’re in, I want to strive for emotional clarity with my work.”