Los Angeles Asian Pacific Film Festival 2020 review roundup (76 Days, Noodle Kid, Atomic Cafe)

The 36th edition of the Los Angeles Asian Pacific Film Festival is on now through October 31, boasting a virtual lineup of over 100 films. Below we’ve rounded up recent reviews of a trio of titles screening at the festival, including the acclaimed documentary 76 Days, centered on the early days of the coronavirus outbreak in Wuhan, Noodle Kid, a documentary following a young Muslim migrant worker in China, and ATOMIC CAFE: The Noisiest Corner in J-Town, a short about the legendary LA restaurant that became the de facto hangout for West Coast punks in the ’70s and ’80s.

You can find more coverage of LAAPFF titles from earlier festivals in our film section, including our interview with The Papers Tigers director Bao Tran, our review of The Donut King, and our review of Death of Nintendo.

The Los Angeles Asian Pacific Film Festival runs through October 31. Check out the complete schedule and ticketing info here.

76 Days

Hao Wu and Weixi Chen’s 76 Days is a harrowing documentary focused on a hospital’s efforts to deal with the initial coronavirus outbreak in Wuhan, China. The filmmakers were given remarkable access to the hospital’s staff and infected patients, for a heartbreaking fly on the wall effect as they follow the overworked hospital staff in their efforts to handle the growing influx of patients suffering from the virus, which was only beginning to be understood back in February.

76 Days should be mandatory viewing as infection rates continue to surge around the world. For all the dismissive talk of the “China virus” in certain circles, this devastating documentary provides an incredibly intimate look at the tireless efforts of the Wuhan hospital staff to treat their patients and shows just how scared those infected patients often are as they suffer alone, without their family present for support. It’s absolutely heartbreaking to watch the fear in the eyes of the patients, as well as their pure gratitude towards the medical staff who are putting their own lives at risk to help combat the spread of the virus and care for those affected by the disease.

One of the most wracking moments in the film is the pile of cell phones and ID cards of diseased patients that the staff bundle up and disinfect for their families to eventually pick up. Given the utter confusion of those early days of the spread, many of the phones — now sealed off in plastic bags — are still ringing, with the callers unaware of what’s transpired (one phone shows 31 unread messages).

Despite many utterly draining moments, the film does manage to capture some levity, as the staff (many of whom drove very long distances to offer their services in Wuhan) decorate their PPE uniforms with their names and colorful drawings to cheer each other (and their patients) up. Thankfully, the film ends on a positive note, as the 76-day lockdown is finally lifted, and the residents of Wuhan begin reemerging from their weeks-long nightmare.

No film to date has captured the human toll of the outbreak like 76 Days. It’s both an incredibly depressing and ultimately hopeful look at how this terrible virus can bring about the best in us if we all work together to combat its spread. That may sound daunting, but it works — life is finally getting back to normal in Wuhan after their months of catastrophic losses, which should inspire even the most ardent anti-maskers out there to take this virus seriously if we ever hope to regain a semblance of normal life again.

Noodle Kid

Gary Shih and Ning Huo’s Noodle Kid documentary focuses on 14-year-old Ma Xiang, a Muslim boy living in a remote mountainous area of Western China with his grandparents. Ma Xiang dreams of becoming an imam, but the hard economic realities of his family’s situation force him to go work for his uncle in a noodle shop in a bustling city 1,000 kilometers away from everything he has ever known.

Ma Xiang’s salary is sent back home to his grandparents, who continue to take care of his younger brother and have accrued large debts over the years. His uncle is a tough disciplinarian, who constantly demands that Ma Xiang work harder and learn the difficult task of making the shop’s hand-pulled Lamian noodles, which keeps the business afloat.

Noodle Kid is a fascinating look at a young migrant worker in China, and the sacrifices he has to make for his family at such a young age. The film also explores the minority Muslim Chinese community, which is rarely represented in film or in mainstream media in general.

What’s truly groundbreaking about Noodle Kid is the incredible access the filmmakers had. The film follows Ma Xiang over the course of his teenage years and plays like a truncated version of the 21 Up series. He becomes a new person before our eyes, and it’s hard not to emphasize with him as he struggles to find his identity and footing in a huge new city, a great distance removed from his family and home. Noodle Kid doesn’t posit any answers to Ma Xiang’s circumstances but still manages to speak volumes about the deep and occasionally conflicting bonds between family and faith within China’s Muslim community.

ATOMIC CAFE: The Noisiest Corner in J-Town

Nestled in Los Angeles’ Little Tokyo, the Atomic Cafe was a restaurant and bar that become a trendy hangout for LA punks in the ’70s and ’80s. With vinyl LP covers plastered all over the walls, Atomic Cafe was run by “Atomic Nancy” Sekizawa, a hard-working and welcoming woman who quickly became an integral part of the scene.

Directed by Akira Boch and Tadashi Nakamura, the 10-minute short features interviews with Nancy and her daughter Zen, who discuss the impact of the restaurant on the West Coast punk scene, the toll the long hours took on Nancy as she began to party like the regulars, the restaurants’ closing in 1989, and its eventual demolition in 2015.

ATOMIC CAFE: The Noisiest Corner in J-Town captures the anything-goes madness of the early West Coast punk rock scene, and how its influence reached far beyond the local venue stages. It’s a fitting tribute to the Atomic Cafe’s legacy, and the indelible stamp Atomic Nancy left on a community of often misunderstood kids.