portraits of those who watch films

Exhibit 1: John Lennon and Yoko Ono.

Exhibit 2: Tsai Ming-liang.

Exhibit 3: Kiarostami

Exhibit 4: I love Mirror. Before DVDs, before YouTube, I tape the film for you as a gift. I have thought long and hard about what to give you that you will remember me by but I realise only later that what I really want is the gift of your face as I watch you watching the film.

Tsai Ming-liang Banned Unbanned

Tsai Ming-liang's film, I Don't Want To Sleep Alone, was recently banned by the Malaysian censors because they weren't happy with the way the country had been portrayed or with, I presume, all the sex, which is pretty much inevitable in a Ming-liang film. The 'last month' in the quote below refers to March this year, by the way.

Last month, Tsai and his production company, Homegreen Films (set up by him and his producer Leonard Tee), received a letter from the Malaysian censors informing them that I Don't Want To Sleep Alone had been banned.

Despite Tsai having been careful about how he portrayed the character of his Muslim actor, Norman Atun, and the edits they made specially for the Malaysian release, somehow the censors still took offence with the film.

The censorship board's reasons were that Malaysia was depicted negatively in the film, with beggars and immigrants populating Kuala Lumpur and the hazardous haze (caused by open burning) enveloping the city. They said Malaysians were also portrayed as cold and heartless. It is Visit Malaysia Year 2007 after all, so they felt it wasn't appropriate for the film to be shown.
An appeal was quickly made against the ban and just a couple of days ago, the appeals committee of the censorship board finally said yes to the film's release ... but with a few conditions.
The film will only get a limited release in arthouse cinemas, while five cuts are to be made. The cuts involve scenes where actor Lee Kang-sheng's bare buttocks can be seen, Norman is cleaning Lee as he lies injured and clad only in his underwear, Norman washes his underwear, Lee and actress Chen Shiang-chyi are kissing and where radio reports of open burning can be heard in the background.

Producer Tee said they were happy that the appeal was successful, but worried about the five cuts. He said they would make another appeal against those cuts. Meanwhile, Tsai voiced his concern as well, stating that he could not see how a story about love and compassion could be seen by the censors as something negative. He also said he is still trying to make up his mind whether to accept those conditions put forth by the censors.

Clearly we're not the only ones. I'm not sure whether to cheer, or weep.

Two interview with Tsai Ming-liang: Senses of Cinema, which is a few years old now, and an excerpt from Tony Rayns' interview with the director, which forms a part of the Press Kit for the film (pdf). Incidentally, this film was commissioned for the Weiner Mozart New Crowned Hope Festival, Vienna 2006, along with Syndromes and a Century by Apichatpong Weerasethakul.

One Long Film

When I wrote about reading books that are mean to be series, in a random order, I started to wonder how it applied to films. Not the kind of films that are, in fact, series—like Star Wars or Kill Bill, or Lethal Weapon—but the kind of films that would constitute a director’s ouvre.

With Hitchcock, Woody Allen, Wong Kar-wai or Buñuel, there might be something to be gained by seeing their films in the order in which they were made. Directors’ Retrospectives attempt to reach exactly this kind of an understanding. But while it might be useful, it is not necessary. You’d lose nothing because you saw 2046 before you saw Fallen Angels.

Many directors essentially make the same film again and again. They approach their central concerns from different perspectives and though there are continuities in style, form and approach, a chronological viewing is not absolutely required.

The exception, in my view, is Taiwanese director, Tsai Ming-liang.

Two years ago, at Trivandrum, there was a retrospective of his films. And in the way one does, I randomly circled all Tsai Ming-liang’s films on my schedule, but did not really pay attention to chronology. A friend very strongly recommended that I see the films in order, and I went along with the idea in a casual sort of way. When I started watching the films, I realised that he was right and they would not otherwise make sense.

Ming-liang’s films have three main characters: the Father, the Mother and the Son (the characters are played by the same actors in film after film). In later films there’s a girl; but their stories are a progression, with some very strong elements of style carrying each story forward. All Ming-liang’s films have long, static shots. In a talkative film, there will be a grand total of four sentences spoken. There is no background music – the exceptions are The Hole and Wayward Cloud, which are really musicals – and bathrooms play a crucial role.

And yet, though so many things appear to be repeated from one film to another, there really would be no way of understanding Wayward Cloud without having seen What Time Is It There, The Skywalk Has Gone (a short film) and The Hole.

Tsai Ming-liang is not easy to watch; watch his films out of order and there is almost nothing to keep you in the theatre unless you’re a film fanatic or have the patience of a saint. In Trivandrum, people made a special effort to come to the screenings just so they could hoot and make a noisy exit.

But if you decide to stay with it, there is no filmmaker whose work is more rewarding to watch. Ming-liang’s films are deeply compassionate and often hilarious. And even as you are laughing, you are aware of an undertow of sadness. But watch the films – as far as possible—chronologically.