Three Times

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I'm a fan of director Hsiao-hsien Hou, but even then I wasn't that fascinated by Three Times (2005). The film is split into three segments that take place in three different periods of time (1910's, 1960's and 2000's) where Shu Qi and Chen Chang appear in the central relationship. As you might guess from that, Three Times' major theme is love.

The first segment is a schmaltzy tale of a soldier chasing an adventurous woman in the 60's. Why do I call it schmaltzy? There is an abundance of pop music of the period that is so mind-numbing in the end that the music loses most of its impact. Even Aprhodite's Child's "Rain and Tears" had a surprisingly tame impact due to the frequent usage.

The second segment is an oddly pretentious effort for Hou. Most of the segment tries to imitate silent films by muting dialogue and sound effects yet changes nothing else so it's a Hou film without sound apart from a constant flow of music. I guess he decided to approach the segment that way since it takes place in the early 20th century. However it's not only distracting, but nearly terrible because Hou still relies on dialogue as much as he usually does so that means there are a lot of title cards that becomes rather tiresome after a while. It also has a very calm, dreamlike pace for no good reason.

The final segment is Hou's take on love in the modern age and I have to say it is clearly the most successful and interesting one. It is the most complex and interesting one and there are no formal deficiencies in the way either.

Apart from the oddities specific to each segment, the form is rather fluid. Hou's incredible photography and sparse editing are still as beautiful as they have always been. The musical choices are good even if occasionally misused. The greatest occasion must be the closing song for the final segment: it is so well as a continuation of the heart-aching ending. And if there's anything to be truly praised in this film it's Shu Qi's amazing acting. The innocent joy of the first segment, the elegance of the second segment and the fragile tour de force of the final segment are all top notch performances. I hope she will eventually be acknowledged as one of the greatest contemporary actresses.

Even though Hou doesn't have that much to say about love he approaches it from so many different perspectives that the film is at least satisfying. I wonder what would have happened to the film without Shu Qi.

Score: 6 out of 10

The Puppetmaster

Hsiao-hsien Hou's The Puppetmaster (1993) is the second part of his trilogy of historical films which focus on Taiwan's development. This time the period of time is between 1908 and 1945, which means the focus of the film is on the Japanese occupation of Taiwan. Taiwan's situation is reflected through the true story of a puppeteer, Li Tianlu (who has acted in Hou's other films). Hou mixes elements of fiction and documentary by recreating scenes of his life while letting his interviews with the puppeteer narrate most of the film. The director's admiration of the central character can be seen in the film - he once said that Li Tianlu is one of Taiwan's national treasures.

The easiest way for me to write a review of The Puppetmaster is to compare it with the first part of the trilogy, City of Sadness. While both of them share the social and historical layers, the intimate layer (personal, on the level of characters) is more perplexing in The Puppetmaster because characters come and go and there seems to be no central character other than the puppeteer himself - who remains a bit distant figure throughout the film. The narrative is more like a collection of short bits from here and there - and the way tension is subtly gained and then let loose is weird yet incredibly haunting.

Sadly, the way I saw The Puppetmaster only added to my confusion: the video was severely cropped so some of Hou's compositions were a bit messed up and the complex lighting lost some of its magic when the picture was too dark at times. Despite all of that, it didn't destroy Hou's formal magic that is a feast for the eyes - even though it is very minimalistic. And most importantly the music plays a significant part in The Puppetmaster - a soundtrack so poignant and fitting.

The Puppetmaster is a hard film to digest - there is no doubt about it. I will have to rewatch many times before I give my final evaluation for the film - so don't take this rating as the one that I will firmly stand by.

Score: 9 out of 10

Address Unknown

Kim Ki-duk's Address Unknown (2001) takes place in a small Korean village near an American army base. The film is very similar to Kim's earlier production which focuses on ultraviolent, aggressive and narcissistic characters who are raped, tortured, sent to jail or killed by the end of the film. This time Kim has such a promising cast of characters to be used and an actually clever plot in his hands because this time his writing isn't so blind and one-sided. The characters are well developed and colorful - at first.

The problem is that Kim so utterly fails to use them and the film's final third is an embarrassing climax that couldn't have possibly been worse. The outcomes of the different storylines are portrayed in a confusing and dragging way. Initially the film promises interesting points of view on the American occupation and how all the characters are related to it, but the touchy subject is handled poorly - apart from one exception.

This time Kim's form isn't as refined as it is in his other films. Sometimes the editing works well - sometimes NOT. The cinematography is unfocused and a bit too carefree - his compositions simply don't get to the level of quality of his other films. The music is a bit irritating as well - the most offending moments are when Erik Satie's Gymnopedie is used TERRIBLY. That is unacceptable.

Ultimately, the film's first half is promising and somewhat good, but eventually it veers into a catastrophical failure.

Score: 5 out of 10