Profiles Reverend L.O. Taylor, a Baptist minister and inspired photographer…
Which Way Is East: Notebooks from Vietnam
 
									- Description
- Reviews
- Citation
- Cataloging
- Transcript
When two American sisters travel north from Ho Chi Minh City to Hanoi, conversations with Vietnamese strangers and friends reveal to them the flip side of a shared history. Lynne and Dana Sachs' travel diary of their trip to Vietnam is a collection of tourism, city life, culture clash, and historic inquiry that's put together with the warmth of a quilt. 
WHICH WAY IS EAST starts as a road trip and flowers into a political discourse. It combines Vietnamese parables, history and memories of the people the sisters met, as well as their own childhood memories of the war on TV. To Americans for whom 'Vietnam' ended in 1975, WHICH WAY IS EAST is a reminder that Vietnam is a country, not a war. 
The film has a combination of qualities: compassion, acute observational skills, an understanding of history's scope, and a critical ability to discern what's missing from the textbooks and TV news. (-The Independent Film and Video Monthly)
'Captures the Vietnam experience with comprehension and compassion, squeezing a vast and incredible country into an intriguing film.' - Portland Tonic Magazine 
 'The sound track is layered with the cacophony of bustling city streets, the chirps of cicadas and gentle rustles of trees in the countryside, and the visuals, devoid of travelogue cliches, are a collage of pictorial snippets taken from unusual vantage points.... What comes through is such a strong sense of the place you can almost smell it.' - The Chicago Reader
Citation
Main credits
								Sachs, Lynne (filmmaker)
Sachs, Dana (filmmaker)
							
Distributor subjects
Cinema Studies; History (Vietnam War Era); Asia (Southeast); Asia; Vietnam; Cultural Studies; Cultural Anthropology; Sociology; Women's Studies; Family Relations; History (World)Keywords
WEBVTT
 
 00:00:05.000 --> 00:00:13.000
 [sil.]
 
 00:01:05.000 --> 00:01:09.999
 I’m now six years old. I would
 lie on the living room couch,
 
 00:01:10.000 --> 00:01:14.999
 hang my head over the edge. But my hair
 is swinging against the floor and watch
 
 00:01:15.000 --> 00:01:19.999
 the evening news upside down.
 
 00:01:20.000 --> 00:01:28.000
 [sil.]
 
 00:01:40.000 --> 00:01:44.999
 A frog that sits at the bottom of a well
 
 00:01:45.000 --> 00:01:49.999
 thinks that whole sky is only as big as
 
 00:01:50.000 --> 00:01:54.999
 the little of a pot.
 
 00:01:55.000 --> 00:01:59.999
 [sil.]
 
 00:02:00.000 --> 00:02:08.000
 [music]
 
 00:03:40.000 --> 00:03:48.000
 [sil.]
 
 00:04:00.000 --> 00:04:04.999
 It rains all night. After five years of
 drought at home, I’m awake and listening.
 
 00:04:05.000 --> 00:04:09.999
 Staring out the window at a darkened
 Saigon at Ho Chi Minh city,
 
 00:04:10.000 --> 00:04:14.999
 I hear a rooster crow from somewhere deep
 in this cluster of apartment buildings.
 
 00:04:15.000 --> 00:04:19.999
 It’s 4:30. Sunlight slowly spreads
 
 00:04:20.000 --> 00:04:24.999
 across the cement wall in
 my room turning it gold.
 
 00:04:25.000 --> 00:04:29.999
 I watch an elderly man in blue boxer shorts
 fold up his bedding and began to do Tai Chi.
 
 00:04:30.000 --> 00:04:34.999
 A teenage girl turns on her radio.
 In the mine,
 
 00:04:35.000 --> 00:04:39.999
 this gives the woman across the courtyard the cue to
 begin sweeping. I wonder then about my sister Dana.
 
 00:04:40.000 --> 00:04:44.999
 After almost a year here does
 she still notice all these?
 
 00:04:45.000 --> 00:04:53.000
 [sil.]
 
 00:05:00.000 --> 00:05:08.000
 [non-English narration]
 
 00:05:20.000 --> 00:05:24.999
 My friend Tu and I take my sister Lynne to visit a
 pagoda in the Chinese neighborhood of Chilan(ph.).
 
 00:05:25.000 --> 00:05:29.999
 Tu takes Lynne’s hand and
 leads her to the sanctuary,
 
 00:05:30.000 --> 00:05:34.999
 making sure she puts three sticks of burning
 incense at every altar. Then to place oranges
 
 00:05:35.000 --> 00:05:39.999
 on the (inaudible) and tray in
 front of one of the Buddhas.
 
 00:05:40.000 --> 00:05:44.999
 When the communist party took
 power, they didn’t like Buddhists
 
 00:05:45.000 --> 00:05:49.999
 and they didn’t like (inaudible).
 So my family stopped coming here.
 
 00:05:50.000 --> 00:05:54.999
 We forget about it for many years.
 
 00:05:55.000 --> 00:06:00.000
 Now the government say it’s okay. So
 we are starting to remember them.
 
 00:07:10.000 --> 00:07:18.000
 [non-English narration]
 
 00:07:20.000 --> 00:07:24.999
 May 15th, my third day in Vietnam.
 Driving through the Mekang delta,
 
 00:07:25.000 --> 00:07:29.999
 a name that carries so much weight. My mind is full of
 words and my eyes are on a scavenger hunt for leftovers.
 
 00:07:30.000 --> 00:07:34.999
 Dana told me that there is ponds
 full of bright green rice seedlings
 
 00:07:35.000 --> 00:07:39.999
 that are actually craters. The
 inverted ghosts of bombed out fields.
 
 00:07:40.000 --> 00:07:48.000
 [sil.]
 
 00:07:55.000 --> 00:07:59.999
 At Kuchi(ph.)
 
 00:08:00.000 --> 00:08:04.999
 we pay three U.S. dollars so that the tour guide will lead us
 through a section of this well known 200 kilometer tunnel complex.
 
 00:08:05.000 --> 00:08:09.999
 This is the engineering
 masterpiece of the Viet Cong.
 
 00:08:10.000 --> 00:08:14.999
 A matrix of underground kitchens and
 living rooms and army headquarters.
 
 00:08:15.000 --> 00:08:19.999
 As I slide through the
 narrow dusty passageway,
 
 00:08:20.000 --> 00:08:24.999
 my head fills up with those old war
 movies dad took us to in the 70s.
 
 00:08:25.000 --> 00:08:29.999
 My body is
 
 00:08:30.000 --> 00:08:34.999
 way too big for these tunnels. I can
 hardly breathe. After five minutes,
 
 00:08:35.000 --> 00:08:39.999
 I come out gasping.
 
 00:08:40.000 --> 00:08:44.999
 We decide not to spend the extra
 $10 it cost to shoot a rifle.
 
 00:08:45.000 --> 00:08:49.999
 [sil.]
 
 00:08:50.000 --> 00:08:54.999
 Sitting at the thatched roof hut, sipping
 milk out of coconuts, I listen to Dana chat
 
 00:08:55.000 --> 00:08:59.999
 with the woman who runs the string
 stand in the middle of the jungle.
 
 00:09:00.000 --> 00:09:08.000
 Ask her, I say.
 
 00:09:30.000 --> 00:09:38.000
 [sil.]
 
 00:10:15.000 --> 00:10:23.000
 [sil.]
 
 00:11:20.000 --> 00:11:24.999
 We got lost somehow and are beginning to realize
 that we walked past the same bush three times.
 
 00:11:25.000 --> 00:11:33.000
 [sil.]
 
 00:11:35.000 --> 00:11:39.999
 In a nearby field, we
 spot a one legged farmer
 
 00:11:40.000 --> 00:11:44.999
 with his two sons. They lead us
 in silence through dense bush
 
 00:11:45.000 --> 00:11:49.999
 to the ruins of Misan(ph.) once the
 intellectual center of Vietnam.
 
 00:11:50.000 --> 00:11:54.999
 Misan survived centuries of monsoons
 and war before U.S. bombs scattered
 
 00:11:55.000 --> 00:11:59.999
 most of the ancient stone work
 like gravel across the hillside.
 
 00:12:00.000 --> 00:12:08.000
 [sil.]
 
 00:12:15.000 --> 00:12:19.999
 We stand inside the tallest remaining
 tower listening to the birds.
 
 00:12:20.000 --> 00:12:24.999
 It’s very cool, almost damp. One of
 the boys offers us a hot soda pop.
 
 00:12:25.000 --> 00:12:33.000
 [music]
 
 00:12:55.000 --> 00:12:59.999
 I’ve been thinking about the way
 people talk about time here.
 
 00:13:00.000 --> 00:13:04.999
 All you have to do is mention a
 particular year and whoever is listening
 
 00:13:05.000 --> 00:13:10.000
 already knows the whole story.
 
 00:13:15.000 --> 00:13:19.999
 Behind that date lies the image of families
 leaving the land date farm for generations
 
 00:13:20.000 --> 00:13:24.999
 and turning their backs on the
 graves of their ancestors.
 
 00:13:25.000 --> 00:13:29.999
 Vietnam suit itself across the daily then.
 Hundreds of thousands fled north of south
 
 00:13:30.000 --> 00:13:34.999
 depending on which ideology
 they trusted most.
 
 00:13:35.000 --> 00:13:43.000
 [sil.]
 
 00:13:45.000 --> 00:13:49.999
 Hum(ph.) told me her father
 headed north in 1954
 
 00:13:50.000 --> 00:13:54.999
 to fight with the revolutionary army. He
 thought Ho Chi Minh could reunite the country
 
 00:13:55.000 --> 00:14:00.000
 within two or three years.
 
 00:14:05.000 --> 00:14:10.000
 [music]
 
 00:14:25.000 --> 00:14:33.000
 [sil.]
 
 00:14:55.000 --> 00:14:59.999
 In the old capital of (inaudible), I take
 a meandering bicycle ride with Koy(ph)
 
 00:15:00.000 --> 00:15:04.999
 a university student friend of Dana’s.
 
 00:15:05.000 --> 00:15:09.999
 [music]
 
 00:15:10.000 --> 00:15:14.999
 During the 1968,
 
 00:15:15.000 --> 00:15:19.999
 tad offensive Way(ph.) became a
 battlefield and the Viet Cong
 
 00:15:20.000 --> 00:15:24.999
 thinking Koy’s family was harboring South
 Vietnamese soldiers burned down their house.
 
 00:15:25.000 --> 00:15:29.999
 Koy’s father had been collecting
 books since he was a child
 
 00:15:30.000 --> 00:15:34.999
 and when the house burned, his booked
 burnt with it. Koy says his father
 
 00:15:35.000 --> 00:15:39.999
 went crazy after that. Past the hospital,
 
 00:15:40.000 --> 00:15:44.999
 we take a turn off the main road
 which winds along the perfume river.
 
 00:15:45.000 --> 00:15:49.999
 We travel down a dark lane where
 there are no people, no cafes,
 
 00:15:50.000 --> 00:15:54.999
 no open doors on to living rooms and TVs.
 This is the quietest,
 
 00:15:55.000 --> 00:15:59.999
 most peaceful street I’ve seen in Vietnam.
 Koy tells me that this was a street
 
 00:16:00.000 --> 00:16:04.999
 where soldiers brought prisoners to shoot them.
 No one wants to mingle with their ghosts.
 
 00:16:05.000 --> 00:16:09.999
 When you love someone,
 
 00:16:10.000 --> 00:16:14.999
 you love everything about them.
 Even their footsteps.
 
 00:16:15.000 --> 00:16:19.999
 When you hate someone,
 
 00:16:20.000 --> 00:16:24.999
 you hate everything about them.
 Even their ancestors.
 
 00:16:25.000 --> 00:16:33.000
 [music]
 
 00:16:35.000 --> 00:16:39.999
 At a pagoda in the countryside, I
 meet a one legged man on crutches.
 
 00:16:40.000 --> 00:16:44.999
 He has on the most formal military
 attire like a soldier on parade.
 
 00:16:45.000 --> 00:16:49.999
 He tells me, he lost his leg in the
 American war and asks where I come from.
 
 00:16:50.000 --> 00:16:54.999
 I want to go to America, he says and
 as if I would understand completely,
 
 00:16:55.000 --> 00:16:59.999
 he adds, everyone is rich
 and business is good there.
 
 00:17:00.000 --> 00:17:04.999
 We stand for a moment face-to-face
 
 00:17:05.000 --> 00:17:09.999
 surveying each other. I finally
 raise my hands together
 
 00:17:10.000 --> 00:17:14.999
 as if in prayer. Uncle, I’m sorry.
 
 00:17:15.000 --> 00:17:19.999
 He looks at me uncomfortably and shrugs.
 Come Sao, come Sao,
 
 00:17:20.000 --> 00:17:24.999
 it doesn’t matter, he says. Waving his
 hand like we are talking about a mistake
 
 00:17:25.000 --> 00:17:29.999
 I made years ago that he
 has long since forgotten.
 
 00:17:30.000 --> 00:17:34.999
 A few days later, I tell Fam
 
 00:17:35.000 --> 00:17:39.999
 who comes from a long line of revolutionaries
 about my encounter with the veteran.
 
 00:17:40.000 --> 00:17:44.999
 But Fam hardly listens. He once told me
 
 00:17:45.000 --> 00:17:49.999
 that war is like a volcano. You can’t control
 it. So you do what you can to save yourself.
 
 00:17:50.000 --> 00:17:54.999
 Don’t feel too bad, he tells me now.
 
 00:17:55.000 --> 00:17:59.999
 That man probably killed
 some American soldiers too.
 
 00:18:00.000 --> 00:18:08.000
 [sil.]
 
 00:18:25.000 --> 00:18:29.999
 Sick and dizzy for days,
 
 00:18:30.000 --> 00:18:34.999
 I see almost nothing more of Whay(ph.)
 than what’s outside my window.
 
 00:18:35.000 --> 00:18:39.999
 Dana brings me a daily bowl of noodle soup given to
 her by the large curious group of cooks downstairs.
 
 00:18:40.000 --> 00:18:44.999
 Without (inaudible)
 
 00:18:45.000 --> 00:18:49.999
 I may speak English. She’s come
 to know them all quite well.
 
 00:18:50.000 --> 00:18:54.999
 I feel trapped. Right now, I
 wish this sweltering hotel room
 
 00:18:55.000 --> 00:18:59.999
 were somewhere else. Home.
 Unable to film a (inaudible).
 
 00:19:00.000 --> 00:19:04.999
 Lynne can stand for an hour
 finding the perfect frame
 
 00:19:05.000 --> 00:19:09.999
 for her shot. It’s as if she
 can understand Vietnam better
 
 00:19:10.000 --> 00:19:14.999
 when she looks at it through the lens
 of her camera. I hate the camera.
 
 00:19:15.000 --> 00:19:19.999
 The world feels too wide for the lens and
 if I try to frame it, I only cut it out.
 
 00:19:20.000 --> 00:19:28.000
 [sil.]
 
 00:19:30.000 --> 00:19:34.999
 Lu strikes up a conversation with us
 
 00:19:35.000 --> 00:19:39.999
 as we walk one evening along a quiet tree lined street
 in Dena(ph.). He wants to practice his English.
 
 00:19:40.000 --> 00:19:44.999
 We invite Lu to dinner.
 
 00:19:45.000 --> 00:19:49.999
 It’s his first time in a restaurant. So he’s
 bewildered by the menu and offended by the prices.
 
 00:19:50.000 --> 00:19:54.999
 He tells us about an American doctor who came
 to demand the final remains of a friend,
 
 00:19:55.000 --> 00:19:59.999
 a soldier lost in the war.
 Lu’s older brother
 
 00:20:00.000 --> 00:20:04.999
 sold the doctor some human bones for $6.
 
 00:20:05.000 --> 00:20:13.000
 [sil.]
 
 00:21:05.000 --> 00:21:09.999
 I’m here for such a short time. A bone
 collector who knows nothing about anatomy.
 
 00:21:10.000 --> 00:21:18.000
 [non-English narration]
 
 00:21:30.000 --> 00:21:38.000
 [sil.]
 
 00:22:05.000 --> 00:22:09.999
 Back in Hanoi, we show my friend Wha,
 
 00:22:10.000 --> 00:22:14.999
 the photographs we just picked up from the
 one hour developer. She shifts through
 
 00:22:15.000 --> 00:22:19.999
 all the famous sites of Vietnam and then
 stops suddenly at a picture Lynne took.
 
 00:22:20.000 --> 00:22:24.999
 Where did your sister, take this picture?
 
 00:22:25.000 --> 00:22:29.999
 That’s my grandmother. I’ve never introduced
 you to her. She’s not a very nice person.
 
 00:22:30.000 --> 00:22:34.999
 Always complaining.
 
 00:22:35.000 --> 00:22:39.999
 Once the photo lost its
 anonymity, it lost its meaning.
 
 00:22:40.000 --> 00:22:44.999
 It wasn’t the long suffering face of Vietnam anymore.
 The trophy face that tourists love to capture.
 
 00:22:45.000 --> 00:22:49.999
 It was just Wha’s crappy grandmother.
 
 00:22:50.000 --> 00:22:58.000
 [non-English narration]
 
 00:23:00.000 --> 00:23:04.999
 When I first got here in winter,
 
 00:23:05.000 --> 00:23:09.999
 every proper coffee table had a bowl of
 Mandarin oranges on it. I thought people
 
 00:23:10.000 --> 00:23:14.999
 must really like mandarin oranges in Vietnam.
 But no, that was mandarin orange season.
 
 00:23:15.000 --> 00:23:19.999
 So that’s what you do. Eat
 mandarin oranges. Since then,
 
 00:23:20.000 --> 00:23:24.999
 we’ve been through sugarcane,
 apricots, mangos and watermelon.
 
 00:23:25.000 --> 00:23:29.999
 During each period, I reach a point where I
 never want to see that fruit again and then
 
 00:23:30.000 --> 00:23:34.999
 miraculously, it disappears. The same woman
 
 00:23:35.000 --> 00:23:39.999
 who roamed my neighborhood with her two baskets of
 mangos balanced on a bamboo pole across her shoulders,
 
 00:23:40.000 --> 00:23:44.999
 reappears, hawking pineapples.
 
 00:23:45.000 --> 00:23:53.000
 [music]
 
 00:23:55.000 --> 00:23:59.999
 It’s June now, the beginning
 of the rainy season
 
 00:24:00.000 --> 00:24:04.999
 in the end thank God of lychee season.
 
 00:24:05.000 --> 00:24:09.999
 Lychee season is very short as everyone I know has
 explained to me and so lychees are a delicacy.
 
 00:24:10.000 --> 00:24:14.999
 Someone gives you a kilo of lychees and
 then you give them a kilo of lychees
 
 00:24:15.000 --> 00:24:19.999
 and together, you must eat eight million of
 them. I’ve never particularly liked this fruit.
 
 00:24:20.000 --> 00:24:24.999
 But it’s impossible for me to tell someone,
 I’ve had enough. You’ve got to deal
 
 00:24:25.000 --> 00:24:29.999
 with the spirit of the thing. Relish
 every juicy bite. I tried to eat
 
 00:24:30.000 --> 00:24:34.999
 as slowly as possible and make good use
 of one popular Vietnamese eating habit.
 
 00:24:35.000 --> 00:24:39.999
 Preparing a morsel of food and
 then giving it to someone else.
 
 00:24:40.000 --> 00:24:44.999
 I peel the lychee, then hand it to a neighbor
 to eat, praying she won’t do the same for me.
 
 00:24:45.000 --> 00:24:53.000
 [sil.]
 
 00:25:40.000 --> 00:25:44.999
 Fam drove me home on his
 motorbike after the symphony.
 
 00:25:45.000 --> 00:25:49.999
 A storm had rolled into Hanoi while we were sitting
 in the opera house. I leaned into his back
 
 00:25:50.000 --> 00:25:54.999
 bracing myself from the wind. The rain,
 illuminated by the light of our Honda
 
 00:25:55.000 --> 00:25:59.999
 looked like a million shards of glass.
 Above us, there was a loud blast
 
 00:26:00.000 --> 00:26:05.000
 in the sky.
 
 00:26:30.000 --> 00:26:34.999
 [sil.]
 
 00:26:35.000 --> 00:26:39.999
 I wonder if he told me, because he
 knows I want to know these things
 
 00:26:40.000 --> 00:26:44.999
 or because every time he hears
 thunder, he remembers the bombs.
 
 00:26:45.000 --> 00:26:53.000
 [sil.]
 
 00:27:20.000 --> 00:27:24.999
 Lynne and I are sitting in Wha’s living room.
 We have the TV off so none of her neighbors
 
 00:27:25.000 --> 00:27:29.999
 are standing out on the sidewalk peeking in. In
 this unfamiliar quiet, we begin to talk about
 
 00:27:30.000 --> 00:27:34.999
 the United States.
 
 00:27:35.000 --> 00:27:39.999
 I think, I don’t understand homelessness
 Dana. But I don’t understand
 
 00:27:40.000 --> 00:27:44.999
 why
 
 00:27:45.000 --> 00:27:49.999
 your government spends so much money
 trying to find bodies of soldiers
 
 00:27:50.000 --> 00:27:54.999
 that they know are dead. While so many other soldiers are still
 alive, are sleeping on the streets right there in America.
 
 00:27:55.000 --> 00:28:03.000
 [sil.]
 
 00:28:15.000 --> 00:28:19.999
 I feel weary. Maybe it’s
 almost time to go home.
 
 00:28:20.000 --> 00:28:24.999
 I can’t.
 
 00:28:25.000 --> 00:28:29.999
 I’m not ready to leave the children, I teach. The way they look
 at the ceiling when they are trying to remember an English word
 
 00:28:30.000 --> 00:28:34.999
 or the way their eyes get there
 when they finally do remember.
 
 00:28:35.000 --> 00:28:39.999
 I can’t leave Wha’s in
 Viet, the wild child,
 
 00:28:40.000 --> 00:28:44.999
 the five year old with the
 gravely voice of an older man.
 
 00:28:45.000 --> 00:28:49.999
 I haven’t learnt all the words
 for rain or the words for art
 
 00:28:50.000 --> 00:28:54.999
 and I don’t know all the words to talk about love.
 I still want to hear the firecrackers at Ted
 
 00:28:55.000 --> 00:28:59.999
 and taste the new rice during those brief
 few weeks when it’s green and chewy.
 
 00:29:00.000 --> 00:29:08.000
 [sil.]
 
 00:29:15.000 --> 00:29:19.999
 OJ is a family friend
 
 00:29:20.000 --> 00:29:24.999
 and the only veteran, I knew as a child.
 It seems strange to him
 
 00:29:25.000 --> 00:29:29.999
 that Dana has been living in Vietnam. Before I left, he told
 me he liked to sit on the white sands of the China sea again,
 
 00:29:30.000 --> 00:29:34.999
 to hear the strange chirping
 sounds of the birds in the jungle
 
 00:29:35.000 --> 00:29:39.999
 near placu(ph.). To look for
 South Vietnamese nurse,
 
 00:29:40.000 --> 00:29:44.999
 he worked with Pointi(ph.). He doesn’t
 even know if his friend is alive.
 
 00:29:45.000 --> 00:29:49.999
 He imagines she’s a (inaudible) by now. But there
 is something that keeps OJ from coming back here.
 
 00:29:50.000 --> 00:29:54.999
 The same thing that keeps him from telling me
 honors of his favorite San Francisco noodle shop
 
 00:29:55.000 --> 00:29:59.999
 that he was stationed just miles
 away from the family farm.
 
 00:30:00.000 --> 00:30:04.999
 For him that old adage still holds.
 He can’t get there from here.
 
 00:30:05.000 --> 00:30:10.000
 [music]
 
 00:30:20.000 --> 00:30:24.999
 Lynne left for San Francisco this
 morning and Wha can see it in my face.
 
 00:30:25.000 --> 00:30:29.999
 She hands me an ear of boiled corn
 she brought from a passing vendor
 
 00:30:30.000 --> 00:30:34.999
 and we quietly staring out at
 the traffic on the street.
 
 00:30:35.000 --> 00:30:39.999
 She says. When you share someone’s sadness,
 
 00:30:40.000 --> 00:30:45.000
 you lessen it.
 
 00:32:35.000 --> 00:32:43.000
 [sil.]
 
	 
		 
		