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Squeezing through a crowded clothing shop, Nguyen Thi Hoa must continue through a courtyard strewn with old dressers, water tanks, and coal-fired stoves to enter her apartment in Hanoi’s Old Quarter neighborhood. Behind the clothing store on Hang Dao Street, Hoa’s apartment is situated alongside five other cramped and dilapidated units in a long dark corridor. Altogether, nearly 30 people are living in the confined space. Hoa’s family is among several in the Old Quarter suffering miserably in the apartments. They are not allowed to upgrade their units or build new ones, in part because of state regulations on preserving the original elements of the Old Quarter. And a staggering 95 percent of the residential units in the neighborhood are in need of upgrades. Located in the capital’s Hoan Kiem District, the Old Quarter is famous for its ancient architecture and is considered the heart of Hanoi’s cultural beauty. Old streets with unique architecture, elaborately tiled buildings, and intricate alleyways form the foundation of the popular area. For local residents, however, the charm of the badly eroded infrastructure leaves something to be desired. The municipal People’s Committee lists 274 houses in the district which are to be preserved for cultural heritage reasons, but the phrasing of the directive indicates that no restorative work can be carried out either. The residents are thus left in the lurch. “I know it is not safe. But, we have no other choice but to stay here,” Hoa said. Her family has lived in a deteriorated apartment with leaking pipes for more than 40 years now. Within the 25-square-meter one-bedroom unit, Hoa’s six-member family has been forced to turn their corridor into a space for cooking and clothes drying. At night, the family sleeps together in what little space is left in the one main room. “Daily life is very inconvenient,” said Hoa. “There are three generations sharing this cramped space.” According to government statistics, housing space per capita in the Old Quarter stands at a mere one square meter, much lower than the 10 square meters per capita in Vietnam’s urban areas. Up to 20 percent of residents in the Old Quarter have no private kitchens, and more than half of all households in the area have five to six people sharing just one room. Yet, the neighborhood has one major draw which dissuades many residents from moving – it is the city’s busiest downtown trading area. “All of my family lives above our shop, so we can’t leave here although the house is very cramped,” said Nguyen Van Ba from Hang Bac Street. His 10-member family lives in a dark 40-square-meter house and is forced to share a toilet with three other households nearby. Nguyen Thi Toan, however, chooses to stay in the Old Quarter for different reasons. She doesn’t own a shop but her small home on Hang Ga Street has great sentimental value, she said. Four generations of Toan’s family have lived here and so despite the discomfort of the cramped space, she and her relatives stay. “We are acquainted with the way of life here, and don’t want to move,” she said. “Moreover, it is downtown, near good schools, good hospitals and big markets. The services are very convenient.” Better preservation laws needed While the government has recognized the value of preserving the architecture of Hanoi’s Old Quarter, complex and ambiguously worded laws fail to address many important issues. For instance, regulations stipulate that for some structures, the “status quo” must be strictly preserved. The phrasing therefore prohibits even necessary restorative work from being carried out. Hanoi’s municipal authorities have asked agencies to simplify procedures so that people can upgrade their homes while retaining the features of the homes’ cultural heritage. Officials have also requested that organizations accelerate work on construction, drainage and pavement systems in the area. A member of the Hanoi Management Board of Relics and Landscape said, “It is necessary to assess the status of relics, build scientific documents for each old street, assess the deformation of houses and streets, and consider residential and infrastructural factors before building a detailed preservation program.” Unable to wait for improvements to his Old Quarter residence, Nguyen Van Trung decided to move out of the area altogether in 2006. He purchased a small house in a suburban district outside the city. “I live in the new house but I keep the old one on Hang Luoc Street for my cosmetic products business,” he said However, in a country where per capita income hovers around US$1,000 a year, not everyone can afford a new house like Trung. One of his old neighbors on Hang Luoc Street was recently forced to expand his cramped apartment onto the building’s fourth floor by adding steel bars to make a small room for his two daughters. “It’s [not ideal], but it helps him battle the shrinking living space and gives the family more freedom,” said Trung. Reported by Bao Van | |||||||
Heritage laws make life miserable for Hanoi Old Quarter residents
A cinematic life
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No matter how popular an idea, People’s Artist Dang Nhat Minh will turn it down if he doesn’t like it. This, he feels, has set him apart from his colleagues and has been a factor in his being one of the few Vietnamese directors who have successfully introduced Vietnamese cinema to the outside world. He doesn’t make many films but his work has won rave reviews from critics and audiences alike. He is widely hailed for his innovative body of work and skilful depiction of a wide range of subject matter, with war-related suffering and the torment of love in wartime standing out in particular. “I can make films on any subject that interests me, as long as it depicts human fate,” he said. “I once considered quitting the industry. But I then thought I could still make films as long as I wrote the scripts and feature subject matters I’m interested in,” Minh said. In 2000, Minh was invited by Australian Phillip Noyce to join him as a second unit director in the remake of “The Quiet American,” starring Hollywood legend Michael Caine and movie star Brendan Fraser. The film, which cost more than US$30 million then, was listed in the top 10 best films of 2002 by the American Film Institute and earned Michael Caine Best Actor nominations at both the Academy Awards and the Golden Globes. According to Minh, funding is the biggest difference between American cinema and Vietnamese films, which are all state-funded. Hollywood directors, such as Noyce, are able to get their ideas put into action with independent funding, he said. “I have to persuade the film crew, especially the film overseer who manages state funds, to help me,” he said. “No member of a state-hired film crew is dismissed for a lack of responsibility.” Therefore, Minh said he rarely watches his movies. Watching them just makes him see where he and the film crew could have done better. Minh has written the scripts of eight of his films and adapted a short story into another. He said the scriptwriter’s creativity plays an important part in both kinds of scripting. “I have no regrets at all about being a film director as it is destiny. But if I could choose again, I would rather be a doctor and follow in my father’s footsteps.” “A medical career and a filmmaking career, however, have one thing in common: their prime focus is humans.” He only regrets not being able to make as many films as he wished but he said he will continue to make more films in the future. The talented director, who received no professional training in filmmaking, learned from famed foreign directors, including influential Japanese filmmaker Yasujiro Ozu. “It makes no difference to me whether a person is professionally trained or not. Whatever the training, it is good if it is effective,” he said. The film that is most often associated with Minh’s name is Bao gio cho den thang muoi (When the tenth month comes). The film, which Minh also scripted, depicts the anguish suffered by his own martyred family and many other Vietnamese families whose dearest ones died in the war. The film is considered by many foreigners to be the country’s iconic post-war work and is a lyrical vision of the endurance of Vietnamese women from one of Vietnam’s most renowned directors. America’s CNN channel last September honored Bao gio cho den thang muoi as one of the top 18 Asian films of all time. The 90-minute feature, shot in 1984, winner of the Special Jury Awards at the 1985 Hawaii International Film Festival and the 1989 Asia Pacific Film Festival, depicts a haunting portrait of a young widowed woman’s struggle with loss and personal sacrifice during the war. In the final days of the war, a beautiful young woman, Duyen, struggles to take care of her young son and ailing father-in-law, all the while hiding the fact that her husband was killed in battle. Keeping the secret burden to herself, she is befriended by the village schoolmaster, Khang, who agrees to fabricate letters from her dead husband to spare her family from sorrow. Duyen and Khang then find themselves drawing closer together as a result of their shared secret. The movie’s title refers to the month in which the “Day of Forgiveness” occurs, a time when it is said that departed souls can visit their counterparts on earth. For the past two years, Minh has been busy making the film Dung dot, trong do da co lua (Don’t burn it, it’s already on fire), based on the war diary of the martyred female medic Dang Thuy Tram, which has been published in 15 different countries and read by millions. Dang Thuy Tram was a Vietnamese military surgeon who worked for the liberation forces during the Vietnam War and she kept a detailed account of her thoughts during the war. She was just 27 when killed by US forces after running a mobile hospital for three years. In the film, Minh juxtaposes the beautiful scenery in Vietnam with the brutal reality of war to condemn the cruelty while praising the humanity and the dream of peace. Dung dot, trong do da co lua, produced by the Movies Association’s Film Studio, has one of the state’s largest film budgets of $500,000.
Reported by Nguyen Le Chi | |||||||
$6 million bet illegal, lawyer says
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A lawyer has called a wager illegal in which several Vietnamese war veterans and construction workers bet a South Korean builder US$6 million it couldn’t complete Vietnam’s tallest tower on schedule. On Thursday, South Korea-owned Keangnam-Vina Company and several Vietnamese veterans signed a commitment in which the company pledged to wrap up the structural work of the Keangnam Hanoi Landmark Tower on schedule by October 2010.
If the South Korean firm misses the deadline, it would lose VND100 billion ($6 million) to Vietnamese veterans and vice versa. Both the betting parties said they would donate the proceeds to charity. The bet stemmed from an open letter issued on Thursday on the Cuu Chien Binh Viet Nam (Vietnam War Veterans) newspaper by several veterans, construction experts, and engineers who doubted the South Korean builder could conclude the tower as promised. But speaking with Thanh Nien Saturday, lawyer Pham Quoc Hung from the Ho Chi Minh City Bar Association said the wager between the two sides was illegal. The agreement would only be legal if it was designed as a “penalty fee” or “bonus reward” transaction between the investor and the contractor of the project, Hung elaborated. Since the war veterans and construction experts have nothing to do with the tower project, the transaction would be sheer betting in a country where gambling is illegal, Hung said. Under Vietnamese laws, locals are forbidden to gamble money and can face criminal charges when caught, Hung said. But foreigners are allowed to gamble at several licensed casinos. Le Hong Son, head of the HCMC-based Saigon Notary Office, agreed that the deal was illegal. Speaking with Thanh Nien Saturday, Oh ChunSik , a manager at Keangnam Enterprises, said the firm had signed the agreement not for gambling purposes, but to protect its brand name instead. Another allegation In early October, several journalists sent a letter to the prime minister, the Hanoi government, and agencies concerned accusing Keangnam-Vina Company of selling apartments before completing them. Vietnamese laws prohibit houses or apartments to be sold before the completion of the building’s foundation. In late October, Deputy Prime Minister Truong Vinh Trong instructed the Hanoi municipal administration to probe the allegation and report back. But Hanoi vice mayor Phi Thai Binh said inspectors had failed to report back Saturday as promised. He attributed the delay to flooding in late October that left at least 22 people dead or missing in Hanoi. He declined to comment on the betting deal. Reported by Kap Long - Hong Minh | |||||||
