ChinaNU+ in conversation about The Waves Will Carry Us
by Marilou den Outer
On April 12, The Waves Will Carry Us served as the closing film for the annual CinemAsia festival. In a single sentence, it is the story of an ethnic Chinese family in Malaysia. However, it is a work rich with layers and details that provide an intriguing portrait of emigration, generational divides, nationalism and inequality, pragmatism, and struggle – in short: survival. All of this is delivered with a healthy dose of black humor.
From Taiwan to Malaysia and Back
While it is not an autobiographical film, it shares numerous parallels with its own family history, says director Lau Kek-Huat (廖克發 1979). We speak with him on the final day of CinemAsia at the Eye Filmmuseum in Amsterdam. Shortly after the festival, he will return to his home in Taiwan and then travel to Malaysia to attend the official premiere of The Waves. For him, this is a significant moment. After all, Malaysia banned several of his previous films from official screenings – deemed too sensitive for the Islamic nation. “This film, however, made it! I am very happy about that We consider ourselves lucky, we only had to adjust a few scenes,” Lau notes.
The film follows Ah Yao, who emigrated to Taiwan but returns briefly to Malaysia following the sudden death of his father. The family is under immense stress, and it happens to be Independence Day. Through flashbacks to the era of Ah Yao’s grandfather – who came to Malaysia from Fuzhou as a young boy – to his father,’s time, and his own childhood, a layered picture emerges of the life of ethnic Chinese in Malaysia across generations.
Growing Up with the Feeling: ‘We Don’t Truly Belong Here’
Always a minority, and always treated as one, even to this day. In a flashback, we see Ah Yao’s father—a second-generation immigrant—who failed to pass the language proficiency test and was consequently denied full citizenship. A young Ah Yao witnessed his father’s humiliation in that government office. To survive (“we must move like a snake”), his father smuggled cigarettes by car to nearby Singapore. Ah Yao had to go along, pretending they were visiting the zoo to “see the lions, grrr.” Occasionally, things went wrong at the border.
Director Lau: “That humiliation at the border – yes, I experienced that myself. And I hated my father for it. Why did I have to do this as a child? The same happened to me at school: having to sing the Malaysian National Anthem and raise the flag on Independence Day – in my heart, it didn’t feel right.
My Malaysian classmates could easily go to university, but as a Chinese I could not, neither could the Indians. This is tied to strong Malay nationalism, known as Bumiputera. It is a policy that suggests you are Malaysian if you are Muslim – granting various privileges. So, I grew up with the feeling ‘we don’t truly belong in this country’.”
Cultural Complexity
The role of Islam features prominently in the film. The deceased father (who fell out of a window while hanging the Malaysian national flag) is lying in state at home when the religious Sharia police suddenly arrive at the door, demanding the body be taken for burial in an Islamic cemetery. Bribery is attempted to prevent this, but fails.
Lau: “This scene remains, with a minor adjustment, in the version premiering in Malaysia soon. I see this as a positive sign. You see, I have no intention of condemning Islam. But I do want to address the abuse of power. That’s why I believe that many ethnic Malaysian audiences will also appreciate the film. Not everyone is happy with the actions of the Sharia police, who also target the LGBTQ+ community, and have banned cinemas in some parts of the country.”
However, Lau looks beyond Islam, also scrutinizing and challenging traditional Chinese culture and customs. When the grandfather arrived in Malaysia as a boy 100 years ago, his Chinese uncle strictly forbade him from eating a piece of offered durian: “Do not become a barbarian!” Lau explains: “Chinese people at that time expected to return to the motherland and avoided eating local ‘barbaric’ food. After all, one could not return to the fatherland with a ‘poisoned soul’.”
Back in the film’s present: at the coffin at home, the children have pragmatically replaced the father’s ‘kidnapped’ body with a male doll. The daughter, home alone at the time, is determined to perform the usual Taoist farewell ritual regardless. The hired priest initially refuses to let her – a woman – perform it. Only after she expresses intense anger does the priest finally relent. Lau: “I found this scene was very important. Chinese women have an underappreciated but special place in these immigrant communities. You often see that men struggle immensely with the inequality and humiliation they experience; they feel shame. Who are the pillars of support and the ones who take action? The women. I wanted to show that in this film too.”
Homeland Nostalgia
When asked if the film also has a universal theme, director Lau replies: “Yes, nostalgia. Immigrants from all over the world know it; that ‘longing-for-the-motherland’ melancholy. You see it in the famous poem by Tang poet Li Bai. The final line: “I llower my head and I think of my home” (the poem is included at the bottom of this article -Ed.).
But how somber that is! Personally, I want to handle it differently. I emigrated to Taiwan twenty years ago. When I arrived, I lived in a very meager hostel. But instead of complaining, I thought: ‘Yes, this is how my grandfather lived when he arrived in Malaysia!’ In short, I saw it as a historical event, a historical place. Personal memories, the path you walk—that is what matters.
At home in Taiwan, I tell my sons they can be proud of growing up with two cultures. And yes, it’s wonderful that this is possible in Taiwan, in freedom and with equal opportunities. To me, ‘home’ is where you can fulfill your potential.”
Optimism and the Next Project
Lau remains optimistic about younger generations. In the film, he introduces Ah Yao’s younger brother, who wears a yellow T-shirt to participate in in one of the Bersih protests, which have been held in Malaysia since 2005 to demand fair elections and other political reforms. Thus, the feature film is filled with references to real life.
Meanwhile, Lau Kek-Huat is busy with his next production, a documentary exploring the relationship between Taiwan and Southeast Asia during World War II, and the memories held by both Taiwanese and Malaysian Chinese regarding that era.
CinemAsia Festival On Tour:
The movie The Waves Will Carry Us will be screened also in: Filmhuis Den Haag from 15-17 May 2026
Tang Dynasty Poem on Melancholy
靜夜思 Jìng Yè Sī by 李白 Li Bai
床前明月光
疑是地上霜
举头望明月
低头思故乡
Chuáng qián míngyuè guāng
Yí shì dìshang shuāng
Jǔtóu wàng míngyuè
Dītóu sī gùxiāng
Before my bed, bright moonlight gleams
I wonder if it’s frost upon the ground.
I raise my head to gaze at the bright moon,
then lower it, thinking of my homeland.
(source)
Regarding the film title:
The Waves Will Carry us – 人生海海 (Rensheng Haihai)
These words appear in the first line of the song Huanxi Jiu Hao by Taiwanese singer Chen Lei (陈雷),
Huanxi Jiu hao 欢喜就好 translates to ‘It’s nice to be happy’.
It is a popular Hokkien song in Southeast Asia. The sentiment: Life is complex, but embrace it, accept it and be happy.
Explanation:
