Showing posts with label Tsai Ming-liang. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tsai Ming-liang. Show all posts

Sunday, June 23, 2024

Rebels of the Neon God (Qing shao nian nuo zha)


 



































Director Tsai Ming-liang

Lee Kang-shen with the director



























REBELS OF THE NEON GOD (Qing shao nian nuo zha)              B+                                         Taiwan  (109 mi)  1992

Do you have nothing better to do with yourself?     —Mother (Lu Hsiao-ling)

In the eighties and early nineties Taiwan witnessed an unprecedented cinematic portrayal of the contemporary urban sensibility, perhaps best reflected by Edward Yang’s modernist exploration of the alienation of the individual in the barren urban landscape of contemporary society, with his films emphasizing psychological complexity, That Day, On the Beach (Hai tan de yi tian) (1983), Taipei Story (Qing mei zhu ma) (1985), The Terrorizers (Kong bu fen zi) (1986), and A Brighter Summer Day (Gu ling jie shao nian sha ren shi jian) (1991), or the adolescent street gangs of Hou Hsiao-hsien’s autobiographical A Time to Live and a Time to Die (Tong nien wang shi) (1985), yet also the hauntingly quiet poetry of Dust in the Wind (Lian lian feng chen) (1986).  At the time, government film grants allowed budding directors like Edward Yang and Hou Hsiao-hsien to get their start, creating the Taiwan New Wave, breaking away from locally made melodramas or kung fu movies in favor of location shooting, long takes, and deliberate editing to reflect the rapidly changing world around them.  Born in Malaysia, having moved around from school to school, typically the kid nobody wanted to talk to, finding it difficult to make new friends, Tsai moved to Taiwan in 1977 at the age of 20 to discover an emerging generation in the thrall of Western values, where the soaring high- tech economic growth drove people to the cities, creating a society filled with contradictions in a clash between the old and the new, enrolling in Taipei’s Chinese Culture University, majoring in Dramatic Art, where he was exposed to European art cinema, including the aesthetics of Truffaut, Antonioni, Bresson, and Fassbinder.  After writing and directing several plays, Tsai went on to work in television, where it was during the making of The Kid, a 1991 TV film, when he was scouting for an actor that he encountered Lee Kang-sheng, who would eventually star in every single one of his feature films.  Writing his own scripts, Tsai’s characters are trapped in the banality of their existence, desperately trying to overcome their loneliness and inability to connect with others, making films that are distinctive in capturing the absurd frustrations and numbness of urban alienation, using long silences and almost no camera movement, eloquently shot by Liao Pen-jung, Tsai’s longtime collaborator, where his aesthetic is essentially minimalist and existentialist to the core.  In a strange twist of fate, this film was not released in America until 23 years after it was made, digitally restored as part of a traveling retrospective assembled only after the critical success of Stray Dogs (Jiao you) (2013).  The words Tsai Ming-liang and realistic action adventure wouldn’t usually be found in the same sentence, much less the same movie, instead we’d expect to see melancholic actor Lee Kang-sheng barely uttering a word, along with deluges of rain, a love for old style movie theaters, an uncommon interest in sex, the inside of the exact same apartments featuring a familiar rice pot on the table, in this case either his own or his sister’s apartment, and plenty of long slow takes, occasionally leading to an offbeat punch line, most often expressed through Tati or Chaplinesque silent film era sight gags.  Unlike his Taiwanese compatriots Hou Hsiao-hsien and Edward Yang who thrive on narrative detachment, Tsai’s films possess near perfect comic timing, not afraid to spend minutes setting up a single laugh.  This film actually foreshadows by a decade Jia Zhang-ke’s UNKNOWN PLEASURES (2002), as both are unflinching looks at alienated youth, one in Datong, a large city in the northern Shanxi province in China, almost to Inner Mongolia, the other in the bustling city of Taipei, both shot in near documentary form, featuring plenty of long tracking shots of excitable kids on motorbikes frenetically exploring their individual freedom only to discover their own restless energy turning against themselves, as there’s little hope for the future.  

After an amusing opening that oddly enough involves a mathematics compass and a cockroach, REBELS follows the exploits of two petty criminals Ah-tze and Ah-ping, Chen Chao-jung and Jen Chang-ben, who are seen expertly looting the cash boxes from several telephone booths before spending their idle time in a video arcade where Lee Kang-sheng by chance happens to notice them.  This is ironic, as that’s exactly how Tsai met Lee Kang-sheng, the phenomenally gifted non-professional actor who would not only become the camera’s focus for the rest of his career, but he would come to define Tsai’s work in the same way Jean-Pierre Léaud was associated with the work of Truffaut in the 60’s and early 70’s.  What immediately stands out is the depiction of urban malaise, where globalization has created small cracks for those living on the fringes of society, where we see parked scooters bordering the busy streets, and narrow lanes jam-packed with food stalls and hawkers selling their wares, with giant billboards advertising various products, as people must compete within this congestion for every little ounce of space.  Shot in the Southwest section of the city known as the West Gate District, the seedy neighborhood where Tsai lived as a student when he came to Taipei, so it has some personal significance, as it was known as a teenage district, the center of Taiwan cinema, with as many as 37 theaters clustered into the compact neighborhood in the early 90’s, becoming the neighborhood where he was introduced to world cinema.  At the time of the shoot, it was an old, run down, and crowded neighborhood under construction that has now been transformed into a worldwide shopping district, attracting more than 3 million shoppers per month, turned into a pedestrian area where vehicles are prohibited on weekends and holidays, where the film is an homage to the neighborhood’s nostalgic history.  Focusing on the details of daily habits, offering insight into the lives of listless young men in crumbling inner cities, Tsai’s characters are often engaged in trivial jobs that hold little meaning, giving rise to petty thieves who prey on the periphery.  Not only are there several quick cuts of bored teenagers dangling cigarettes out of their mouths, also (drawing from Hollywood) an image of Lee standing in front of an iconic movie poster of James Dean from Rebel Without a Cause (1955) which looms above him at the video arcade (though his character is more akin to Sal Mineo’s Plato), but there’s a pulsating, bass heavy musical soundtrack by Huang Shu-jun, the only canned music in any of his films, used quite effectively here as it matches the portrait of Taipei as a dingy, neon-lit wasteland, Tsai Ming-liang - Rebels of the Neon God 1992 YouTube (1:19), where disconnected relationships are short-lived and pointless, and meaningless violence can erupt at any minute over the least provocation.  Of course there’s a girl, Ah-kuei (Wang Yu-wen), the bored, yet hot to trot, short-skirted, roller rink attendant who tightens skates with a few pounds of a hammer, who flirtatiously tries to interest Ah-tze, but nothing holds his attention for long as his mind wanders with that typical male urban syndrome common in video arcades known as attention deficit disorder.  It’s amazing the girl gives these creeps the time of day, but she keeps coming back for more.  Lee Kang-sheng as Hsiao-kang hatches his own interest in them after witnessing Ah-tze brazenly destroy his father’s outside cab mirror with a tire iron, a senseless act that does get to the heart of what this film is about, a lifetime of a neverending series of senseless acts.   

In preparation to taking the standardized college entrance exams, Lee drops out of cram school and pockets the refunded tuition money, leaving his parents who paid for it outraged, knowing where reckless irresponsible acts will lead him, especially when his mother, invoking her folk beliefs, thinks he’s been infected by an evil spirit, describing him as the “reincarnation of the Neon God.”  About the same age as Ah-tze, Lee is drawn to him, shadowing his every move, as their lives mirror one another, often seen paired together in parallel shots making identical gestures, and while they lead very different lives, it’s clear the aimlessness and uncertainty of their futures are connected in this study of disaffected Taipei youth, offering insight into the lives of lost young men living in urban wastelands.  While Lee is physically and psychologically confined to a tiny room in his parent’s home, subject to their rules and jurisdiction, Ah-tze has apparent mobility and freedom to go where he pleases, yet it’s largely symbolic, as both move in restricted space that can feel suffocating.  The audiences in Tsai’s films are able to see things the characters can’t, as they’re too busy occupying the cramped space they live in, while viewers sitting at a distance who have the opportunity to observe what happens within that space.  Using an anti-narrative technique, feeling more like various slices of life episodes strewn together, the film explores how Lee attempts to push the boundaries of his physical constrictions, using a carefully choreographed visual design where the paths of two characters are constantly crisscrossing, Rebels of the Neon God (1992) - MEETING YouTube (1:39).  Ah-tze’s apartment continually floods with sewage water backing up from the drain, one of Tsai’s most common themes, where throughout the film he amusingly sloshes his way through the water which has a mirror-like reflection on the ceiling.  When he does a good deed, the water mysteriously flows back down the drain, but don’t expect that condition to last long.  The kinetic energy in this film is highly unusual for Tsai, a style he’s never returned to, instead becoming enamored with extended takes, but really the movie is a mysterious interconnection of several different Taipei-based storylines, the two goofs and a girl, rounds of casual sex, an elevator that always stops on the wrong floor, a dysfunctional family unit that never once feels like home, and Lee Kang-sheng slowly exacting his revenge, trashing Ah-tze’s scooter, cutting the seat and tires, spray painting AIDS on the side, while pouring glue into the ignition switch, which brings him a moment of temporary ecstasy, but ultimately a profound sadness at the realization of just how aloof and isolated he is from anyone else’s life, which is the true nature of any Lee Kang-sheng character.  The real irony here is that the two goofs have a love interest, someone who actually wants to love them, but their hedonistic, self-centered lives leave them no place for love, so they casually throw it all away as if it were worthless, replaceable parts.  This single act of throwing away what is most meaningful in life is similarly reflected back in all the less significant instances when they’ve done exactly the same thing, where the totality of arrogant disregard and nonchalance leaves them with no meaningful connections in the future.     

Watch Rebels of the Neon God Full Movie Online Free With ...  free online film from FShare TV (1:46:56)

Saturday, November 28, 2020

Days (Rizi)


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 







Director Tsai Ming-liang



Actor Lee Kang-Shen


Actor Anong Houngheuangsy









 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

DAYS (Rizi)    B+                                                                                                                       Taiwan  France  (127 mi)  2020  d:  Tsai Ming-liang 

It’s been 7-years since his last feature film, Stray Dogs (Jiao you) (2013), which at the time was announced as his last and final film, and in many ways it felt like a summation of his entire career.  Once again starring the wordless Lee Kang-Sheng, the picture of disaffected youth early in his career, now older, more world-weary, a non-actor who has been with this director from the beginning in 1989 when he was working in television, appearing in every feature since meeting by chance outside a Taipei arcade, making their partnership unique in the annals of cinema.  Never intending for Lee to appear in every film, their relationship evolved over time, with the director appreciating the actor’s complete independence from acting methods, declaring 20-years later, “Without this face, I don’t want to make films anymore” (Tsai Ming-Liang on Lee Kang-Sheng | Asia Society), actually working a decade longer than Jean-Pierre Léaud worked with François Truffaut (never appearing in every film), with both actors growing up onscreen right before our eyes, where it’s hard to think of one without the other.  Tsai’s early films played at the Chicago Film Festival where he made regular appearances, looking like a Buddhist monk, where his films are like fervent prayers, evoking a mysterious connection to otherworldly realms, where the glacial pace sets him apart, with near perfect cinematic compositions, including long extended takes where next to nothing happens, slowly allowing time to pass, establishing his own pace and rhythm, yet if it’s possible to connect on his wavelength, to fully identify with his lead character, his films are among the most personal expressions in the entire cinematic universe, as evidenced by Francesco Quario on Letterboxd.  Using no dialogue or subtitling, this film combines the cultures from three different cities, Taipei, Hong Kong, and Bangkok, opening with a middle-aged Lee sitting in the living room of the director’s own home in Taipei, calmly looking out through a glass window as a storm rages outside, contrasting themes of tranquility with a combustible energy.  He also introduces a new character, the much younger Anong Houngheuangsy (aka: Non), a Laotian immigrant who works in Bangkok, met in a chance encounter selling noodles in a food court, seen following a meticulous cooking regimen that resembles the ritualized kitchen habits so fondly recorded by Chantal Akerman, thoroughly cleaning fish and vegetables on his apartment floor as he prepares a meal over a live indoor charcoal fire, which probably violates every known health and safety code, but this is Bangkok.  After the meal, he takes a shower using a bucket of water that he continually splashes over his body, using soap out of a bottle to thoroughly wash his face, seen later hanging around outdoor booths set up for nighttime food or shopping.  After the storm, a chronic neck ailment is associated with Lee’s character that recalls a similar reference in THE RIVER (1997), identifying a real-life medical issue following this actor, with Tsai including some radical acupuncture heat treatments with burning embers that he received in Hong Kong, filmed with near documentary style precision, looking painful and gruesome.  Afterwards he spills out into the busy city streets, with a hand-held camera following him through the hustle and bustle of street congestion, where at least part of the film mirrors Lee’s medical treatment plan, including walks to and from the doctor’s office.   

By the time Lee gets back to a hotel room, he sleeps alone in a chair next to a large picture window overlooking the towering city skyscrapers, where if you watch carefully a helicopter enters the picture near the beginning, fades into the distance before returning into the foreground, seen carefully landing on a hotel rooftop.  In much the same way, Tsai shoots a glass building exterior, with the camera peering into a row of brownish-tinged windows looking dilapidated, where many are cracked or broken, yet again if you look closely, the shadow of a black cat comes into view just under the top row near the right, stops as if to clean itself and lifts its head before continuing on a journey across the frame from right to left, occasionally moving out of sight, yet moving all the way across the screen.  Only a director like Tsai would have the patience to set up a Zen-like shot like that in a film, and only his viewers, trained to observe closely, would discover the hidden secrets contained within.  What follows is the centerpiece of the film, as the two characters meet wordlessly in a dimly lit hotel room, with Lee arriving first, making preparations, removing the comforter and sheet, then lying naked on his stomach awaiting the arrival of his guest.  Non, dressed only in Calvin Klein whities, initiates a massage, using oil from a bottle to thoroughly rub over his entire body, with Lee from time-to-time making audible moans.  In something close to real time, the massage continues with Lee turning over on his back, applying the exact same technique, this time accentuating sexual pleasure.  While below the waist remains offscreen, it becomes the focus of attention, graphically showing two men having gay sex, displayed with affection, ending with a flurry of kisses on the mouth.  In the aftermath, Lee showers with Non assisting, both getting dressed afterwards, with Lee handing over money, but also a gift that contains a small music box playing the theme to Chaplin’s LIMELIGHT (1952, Eternally (Terry's Theme) ― Chaplin 『Limelight』 - YouTube (2:58), a beautiful reference to Silent film, yet also a film coming near the end of Chaplin’s career that served as a farewell to both movies, art, and America (exiled to England during the McCarthyist witch hunts under accusations of being a Communist, his visa revoked, banned from ever returning to America), among his most personally revealing films, with Non rewinding continually so the music never stops.  It’s a heartwarming moment, shown with tenderness and affection, revealing something more than a sexual liaison, offering a gesture of lasting value.  As the two men exit separately, Lee catches up to him and they’re seen walking down the street together, stopping at a noodle place to eat, shot from across the street, with all the cars and trucks passing by in the foreground, offering a moment in time, like a photo album snapshot, captured in the background as time literally passes them by.

The film may be a tone poem on isolation and distance, capturing with evocative spareness a feeling of alienation and human vulnerability, feeling at times like a meditation on profound human sorrow, where this film may touch upon the aging process as well, as our bodies that we once took for granted start breaking down with various maladies, yet told with grace and compassion, including intensely-observed close-ups, allowing us a glimpse into the personal lives of familiar friends, perhaps even a bit sentimental at this stage in their lives, yet also finding someone new, representative of the changing times, a young man migrating to a foreign country to live and work, sharing a historical connection with the director, who was born in Malaysia and moved to Taiwan in his 20’s.  Later we see Lee, living a spacious existence, tending to his fish in the backyard, as he has quite a collection of tropical fish, where it appears he is even filming them, while Non is back in his apartment preparing food, this time using a different assortment of larger pots.  Lee takes an evening stroll, which appears to be physically exhausting, before both are seen sleeping in their beds.  Separate and apart for the entire film, they are brought together in one climactic scene, but return back to their solitary lives, yet the camera finds their faces, each lost in thought, capturing years of loneliness etched onto Lee’s face, while Non is younger with a bright future still ahead of him.  It’s an interesting contrast in worlds, like a teacher and his apprentice, a master and his student, that also involves the nearly lifelong relationship between Tsai and Lee Kang-Sheng, sharing so many personal moments, yet also extremely aware that they are nearing the end of their run together, making it all that much more gratifying, where the film seems to be an open reflection on their work and personal relationship together, filled with tiny moments and shared memories, but also mutual feelings of endearment that make it seem more like their own love affair.  For Tsai, this isn’t just any film, but a culmination of his entire career, mirroring Chaplin at the same age, questioning one’s mortality, offering viewers a personal memento, much like the gift of the music box.  Later Non is seen sitting alone on a corner street bench, pulling the gift out of his backpack and playing it, where it can still be heard, but is drowned out by the street noise.  The emphasis, however, and the intent behind it, bathes the screen like a gentle rainstorm washing away our anguish and heartaches, with Non finally getting up and walking off into the night.  The film connects back to THE RIVER (1997), when actor Lee-Kang-Sheng was only 20-years old, now entering his early 50’s, still looking surprisingly fit, but struck by mysterious ailments that slow him down.  The film has a cathartic effect, acting as a salve for an aching soul, offering a medicinal tonic not just for weary times, but it feels more like a love letter to their ongoing screen relationship, openly sharing their uniquely gifted talents, offering one for the ages.