I Don't Want to Sleep Alone

(image source)

Ming-liang Tsai's I Don't Want to Sleep Alone (2006) is another addition to the director's long list of films that explore the feelings of loneliness and alienation. This time the main character, Hsiao-Kang, is in Malaysia and ends up being mugged. Afterwards he finds company in two lonely natives whose unstable emotions complicate the film quite a lot. Tsai's approach lacks humor surprisingly, but that doesn't make the film worse - in fact, I think it's better off without the slapstick comedy. The screenplay is rough and a bit weird for Tsai, but the climax is probably the best thing Tsai has ever done - apart from What Time Is It There.

Tsai's form is still full of static long takes, but there are significantly more closeups used than in his earlier films which barely had any. There's also a lot more sound this time - through music, dialogue and background noise. Although these "irregularities" Tsai doesn't stumble with the form at all because the film is magically captivating.

While I Don't Want to Sleep Alone is not exactly on par with the director's masterpiece it's nevertheless a great achievement.

Score: 9 out of 10

The Hole

(image source)

If you have followed this blog for a while, you must have figured out that I'm a big fan of the director Ming-liang Tsai. I finally had the chance to see one of the few films of his I had not yet seen - The Hole (1998). It is yet another exploration of alienation and loneliness from the director: in an abandoned Taiwan, two "survivors" try to cope with said themes after a lousy plumber creates a hole between their apartments.

This is the first time Tsai uses slapstick comedy and musical scenes during his career and they already work quite well - although they are not as refined as in his later films like What Time Is It There and The Wayward Cloud. When it comes to Tsai films, you are guaranteed to get a thorough study on the same themes so the focus is shifted towards how he approaches it. The song-and-dance numbers are surprisingly straightforward in the way they are related to the actual plot. The humor stands out so well that it sometimes feels as if Tsai isn't serious about the script at all. That's only a minor gripe, though.

Combined with the relatively bad audio quality of the DVD, the film's weird sound design was rough on my ears at first, but I got used to the constant background noise caused mostly by neverending rain. Tsai uses only Grace Chang's songs as the soundtrack - and even they are only used in the musical scenes. The (intentionally) downright ugly sets were intriguing yet they never made the film seem as grim as they could have. Tsai's long take aesthetic is always present and this film is unsurprisingly yet another photographical achievement for the director.

Tsai's films might be tough to watch - and even harder to review - on the first time so I don't think I have achieved what I wanted with this review. Tsai's cinema is the cause of undying fascination for me and it is something I will certainly delve deeper into in future. I hope I can write a better review for this blog of The Hole someday.

Score: 9 out of 10

Vive L'amour

Ming-liang Tsai's Vive L'amour (1994) is clearly the first notable film the director made. While Rebels of the Neon God was a good effort, it was far below his usual level of quality. Vive L'amour is probably even more ambitious - or at least more challenging - than his later films because it doesn't dive into its thematics/subject the same way. While his later films always have a comical aspect (slapstick) along with the serious side, Vive L'amour is ONLY serious. Or the humor isn't as pointed out, at the very least.

Primarily the film is about alienation and sexual frustration, just like The Wayward Cloud, but this time he approaches the themes without porn or musical scenes. The focus of the film is not only on Kang-sheng Lee's character, there are also two other characters who are connected to Lee because they use the same apartment even though they are not aware of each other at first. The screenplay is fascinating even if it's a bit tough even by Tsai's standards because there is no "comic relief".

As for the form, it's magnificent yet again. Tsai's long takes, calm pace and gorgeous photography are still there. This time he doesn't use music at all, which fits the screenplay.

Tsai's film making has become quite refined already by this point, but the film is a bit too monotonous for its own sake so I can't honestly give it a 10.

Score: 9 out of 10

Rebels of the Neon God

(image source)

Tsai Ming-liang's Rebels of the Neon God (1992) is nothing like the director's other films. There are only two trademarks that can be noticed in his second first film: casting Lee Kang-sheng (and his family) and the metaphoric use of water. The movie portrays Hsiao-Kang's days as a teenager while he faces feelings of alienation and frustration. Tsai also focuses on a rather separate storyline which involes two hoodlums chasing a beautiful girl. While Hsiao-Kang often observes these characters, there is hardly any interaction between the two storylines.

I've read that the film is the perfect depiction of Taiwan at the end of the 80's and the beginning of 90's so I guess that counts as a pro. It examines somewhat decently the dislocation the adolescents feel in the harsh environment. I have to admit it was a bit problematic for me to watch the film because I expected yet another story focused completely on Hsiao-Kang, but the other storyline was even more central than HK's storyline. It was confusing for a while, but it was fitting when I started to think about its relevance for the themes.

Tsai's form is almost completely the opposite when compared to his later films. There are almost no long takes so his editing patterns are largely different. The camera is moving most of the time which gives the film more energy - which is fitting when you realise the film is about the reckless youth. I'm not sure if it was a conscious decision or if Tsai hadn't simply figured out his own unique style yet. Tsai also used music quite a lot - and none of it was old Mandarin pop. The compositions weren't so precise either - there were a few exceptions though.

In overall, Rebels of the Neon God is a bit uneven although it is not a bad effort at all. In fact, Tsai shows hints of his brilliance already at this point, but he doesn't succeed in creating a masterpiece: his form is lacking and the content doesn't feel focused enough.

Score: 7 out of 10

The Skywalk Is Gone

The Skywalk Is Gone (2002) is Tsai Ming-liang's short film which shows what happened to the main characters between What Time Is It There? (2001) and The Wayward Cloud (2005). The content is unimpressive, but it is slightly interesting for the fans of Tsai's films. It functions only as a small fraction of a connection between the two films, and as that it is only OK. Tsai's form is dead-on though, and that's the extremely redeeming factor of the film. It is not different from his other films, but it is perfectly executed AGAIN.

Score: 6 out of 10

What Time Is It There?

Tsai Ming-liang's What Time Is It There? (2001) is a film about alienation and loss. As usually with Tsai's films, Lee Kang-sheng plays a character named after the actor himself. This time his father dies, and the film shows us how he and his mother react to the loss. That's only half of the story. He also meets a woman (Chen Shiang-chyi, plays a character named after herself as well) while selling watches on an overpass. Unfortunately, the woman leaves for Paris the next day.

The film focuses on the concepts referred to in the title: "there" and "time". Both of the main characters feel dislocated from time and space. This phenomenon is examined in a poetic way. Lee spends a lot of time alone in his bed - he even resorts to peeing into plastic bags and bottles. He becomes fixated with resetting every clock he sees to the time that is in Paris - he believes he can maintains his relationship with Chen that way. Chen, on the other hand, only finds peculiar guilt and loneliness in Paris.

And because the film is directed by Tsai, there are excellent moments of slapstick in the film. He even applies some of this subtle humor (it is funny to say that slapstick is subtle) to the central themes and motifs, but luckily that doesnt ruin the impact of its content.

The elegance of Tsai's form is stunning. He proves he has his film tightly under his control. The best example of his self-confidence and talent is the very first scene that is constructed of one clever static shot. I believe he used more cuts in this film because the story is split into two storylines, and thus requires more editing. His compositions are not only beautiful, but they also heavily reflect the dislocation the main characters feel.

What Time Is It There? is a stunning film, and I realised my review doesnt entirely express my admiration of it. It might actually be my favourite from Tsai's filmography.

Score: 10 out of 10

The Wayward Cloud

Tsai Ming-liang's The Wayward Cloud (2005) is certainly a unique film: it is a Taiwanese arthouse porn musical. Sadly I havent yet watched Tsai's What Time Is It There? (2001) and The Skywalk Is Gone (2002). The Wayward Cloud continues the stories of the characters seen in those films. In any case, the film doesnt rely heavily on those characters because I felt like there was nothing missing in the story.

The Wayward Cloud examines the relationship between an amateur porn star and a lonely woman. They know each other from the past and both of them are desparately seeking a connection. Will they succeed? They go about their daily lives on a calm pace which is sometimes interruped by odd musical numbers. These musical bits are charmingly off-beat when compared to the rest of the film. It is like the film's story flows back and forth between two completely different layers. There is this sort of "dualism" in the "porn" scenes too. Sometimes you can see the people behind camera in rather amusing situations, and then there are scenes where they are completely non-existent. Tsai brilliantly switches between these two "styles" to emphasize certain aspects of the content. For example, the first porn scene catches the viewer completely off-guard and it is done "professionally" with no visible cameramen, complete with costumes for both characters. The most shocking part is what actually happens during the scene - I'll leave that for you to find out.

Despite the film's cold and alienating attitude most of the time, there are truly hilarious moments. Tsai is able to include his "trademark humor" into the serious content seamlessly. For example, there is a lovely scene which uses only one shot: the shot is divided by a wall in the middle of it and we can see one main character on each side. The man tries to be nice to the woman and accepts the drink she offers to him. While she goes behind the wall, he disposes of the drink without drinking it - because it's god awful. When she comes back, he kindly gives the glass back to him, which she interprets as him wanting more. His facial expression after she fills the glass again is priceless. The same sort of composition is used later in the film for a completely another purpose, but it is certainly meant to be parallel to this scene.

The film's Taipei is under a drought which has made watermelons extremely common, to the point of them becoming a fetish. All of this can be seen as a metaphor for the "dryness" in the relationships of the characters, the lack of connection. The Wayward Cloud's watermelons are infamous among cinephiles.

Apart from the musical scenes, Tsai's form doesnt hold any exceptions in comparison to his other films. He likes to linger on carefully framed and beautiful shots which are often used for a certain purpose. Even his musical numbers follow his tradition of only using old Mandarin pop songs which surprisingly fit really well with the modern setting. 

I seriously cant find any mentionable flaws from the film, and it is great as it is. It is an intriguing example of how far cinematic language can go.

Score: 10 out of 10

A Conversation with God

I happened to find Tsai Ming-liang's rare short film, A Conversation with God (2001), on YouTube. I decided to watch it because I'm very interested in Tsai's filmography. He made this short film while working on What Time Is It There? (2002), and I guess it is about religious rituals. The short film is put together from documentary footage that Tsai has shot on his own, it seems. There is hardly any coherency in the film. We have shots of a religious ritual, a stripper's performance, lots of dead fish and yet another religious ritual, the purpose of which couldnt be understood. I'm not wondering why Tsai hasnt put a lot of effort into this film because it seems to me that he simply took his camera and wanted to shoot something and experiment with it. All these different scenes/sections/sequences are separated by shots of white tunnels. It gives the film a clear structure and rhythm so that it is a little easier to follow. There is nothing redeeming in the form either. It is a simple point-and-shoot film, with no effort put into the form. The rating might sound horrible, but it wasnt a waste of 30 minutes for me though. Whatever Tsai does, I'll do my best to watch it.

Score: 2 out of 10

Goodbye, Dragon Inn

Tsai Ming-liang's Goodbye, Dragon Inn (2003) is the director's tribute to cinema. A movie theater is about to be closed and for the last day a special screening for old films is held. We see vague characters wandering around the silent, ugly and trashy theater.

There are two characters that the narrative follows most of the time. The first is called "Ticket Woman" (in the credits, at least) who takes care of the theater along with the projectionist seen at the end of the film. She limbs along hallways and climbs up and down stairs very slowly. Some sort of a romantic relationship is suggested between her and the projectionist, but it is never directly implied. The other "main character" is a shy man who tries to make contact with the other people watching films, but to some degree fails in the end. There are also a few other people often seen in the film. I would like to mention two elderly men who shed tears at the end of the screening. I interpret that as them mourning for the loss of cinema.

I think it tells a lot about the "nature" of this film that there is almost no dialogue. If you dont count the dialogue coming from the film(s) they watch, there are roughly 10 lines spoken- in fact, it might actually be less than 10 lines. The ticket woman's slow movement and the silence emphasize the "death of cinema" (or the death of cinema-going experience) Tsai tries to portray in this film.

The film lingers on carefully framed shots for minutes and there isn't a lot that happens onscreen. For example, there is a 5-minute shot of an empty theater which felt like Tsai's true moment of respectful silence for cinema. The camera never moves and the few cuts set the film for a really calm and slow pace that annoys some viewers. This is why there are people who criticize the film for being "too boring", but for me it is the complete opposite. The respectful and honest take on a nostalgic subject kept me glued to the screen. Even the 30's Mandarin pop song at the end of the film is closely tied to the idea of "dying cinema" because it's a song about how hard yet bittersweet it is to let go of the past.

Despite being so calm and silent, there are a few moments that are absurdly hilarious. It is Tsai's trademark to have these moments of comedy gold in middle of a quiet film. Most of these funny bits come from the lack of communication (or failed attempts to communicate) between the characters in the film.

Goodbye, Dragon Inn isn't easy to watch by modern blockbuster standards. But if you are willing to give it a chance, you will find a bittersweet and caring tribute for cinema. It is a truly stunning film.

Score: 10 out of 10