As a seasoned cinephile who has traversed the labyrinth of cinema for decades, I find myself deeply moved by the words of Malaysian director Tsai Ming-liang. His dedication to his craft and his actors is a testament to the profound bond that can exist between artist and muse.


As a passionate cinephile, I find myself thrilled by the possibility that Malaysian auteur Tsai Ming-liang may be returning from semi-retirement. In an exclusive chat at the Ji.hlava Documentary Film Festival, he shares, “A powerful yearning stirs within me to create another full-length film.

I’ve been collaborating with these talented actors for quite some time now. Lately, they’ve taken on roles in other director’s movies, but I can’t wait to have them back in my next production. I’m patiently waiting for them to reach a specific maturity level, and then we’ll work together again. Ideally, I’d like to see this happen during my lifetime. Just one more major film project would be satisfying enough for me.

His biggest concern?

As I, at 67 years old, ponder over my next move, I wonder if I still possess the vitality needed for more film projects. Reflecting on my journey, I recognize that I have changed, yet I find allure in the notion of growing older and embracing a fresh kind of energy. Despite this, I remain committed to capturing the essence of my actors through my work, creating portraits as I go.

I plan on doing it once they’re older as well. It might be a lengthy shot capturing their expressions. Ever since I made my first movie, I’ve known I won’t make many during my lifetime. In my mind, I had a rough estimate of around ten films. The tenth film, ‘Stray Dogs,’ is when I began to feel frustrated.

Later, he followed it with “Days.”

Out of the blue, this film has caught my attention. What draws me in for the 12th time is my deep admiration for these actors, particularly Lee Kang-Sheng – we’ve been collaborating for nearly four decades. I can’t wait to see him on screen again.

At the Czech festival, the movies being shown were greeted with tribute by their maker, who chuckled as he remarked, “I can’t believe I made these films myself!” – a testament to his successful and critically acclaimed career in directing. However, following the 2013 release of “Stray Dogs” which earned him an award at Venice, he decided to take a break from feature filmmaking.

I found the production of this film overwhelmingly tiring due to its large cast and need for precise timing. In contrast, ‘Days’ wasn’t originally designed as a movie. Instead, it was my personal documentation, just me capturing moments. Initially, I had hoped it would be displayed in museums.

He wanted to remind the audience, especially in Asia, that they “need museums in their lives.”

I believe that such an environment encourages greater artistic liberty, yet I aim to blur the lines between cinema and art exhibits. Originally, the ‘Walker’ series, a collection of ten movies, was intended for display in this setting. However, after much consideration, I decided to alter my plans.

The world might be speeding up, but he still champions slow cinema.

The speed at which something is presented isn’t crucial; it’s the substance that matters. Last week, my latest work, titled ‘Walker,’ was displayed in Vienna, and one might expect the audience to doze off. Surprisingly, they remained attentive! It seems a slower film can actually offer more opportunities,” he contends.

The first lengthy moment I ever observed was back in 2003 with the film ‘Goodbye, Dragon Inn’. This movie primarily focused on an old cinema that held significant memories for me, as it was where I spent much of my youth. As the management planned to shutter its doors, I felt compelled to capture its essence. One particular scene stood out – a continuous shot of six to seven minutes simply focusing on the seats within the cinema. Initially, this wasn’t the plan, but the flood of emotions and memories overpowered me, causing me to prolong the shot.

Additionally, I’ve had an intensely personal encounter of fixing my gaze on something over an extended period. This occurred when my mother sadly passed away. For hours on end, I found myself staring at her face. The experience was profoundly moving.

He thinks that members of the newer generation could find value in watching slower movies, as he suggests. Interestingly, they may require a bit more time to fully grasp and enjoy them.

One time, I was asked to give a lecture early in the morning. The students were quite restless and unfocused; some were even applying makeup or eating. Later on, an elderly professor approached me and said, ‘Don’t worry. When they grow older, they will watch your films.’ Whether that will happen or not, I can’t be sure, but it seems their lives are currently filled with new experiences. Perhaps when they tire of those, I’ll still be here.

Although he’s fond of experimental films, Tsai Ming-liang has a strong affinity for traditional cinema. If he were stranded on a deserted island and could only watch one movie, it would be the 1950s classic “The Night of the Hunter,” starring Robert Mitchum.

He’s been observing that he hasn’t been watching many new movies lately because they’re too alike and focused heavily on plot, lacking the personal touch that was once common. He suggests a return to the style of the French New Wave and auteur cinema, where the focus is on individual creators, like in the art world where you go to see an exhibition by artists such as Vincent van Gogh or da Vinci. In film, he proposes, we should adopt a similar approach.

I’m personally hoping that my final movie won’t have a traditional title. Instead, it might simply bear my name, Tsai Ming-liang.

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2024-11-01 19:17