Tsai Ming-liang’s haunting, bleakly comic sophomore film receives a starkly beautiful transfer from Film Movement.
Grasshopper’s excellent home video release highlights the aesthetic and tonal complexity of its minimalist approach.
Tsai Ming-liang seems to say that, even in a world rigged against queerness, certain things can’t still be shared.
Big World Pictures lays an egg with this DVD release, but at least one of the best debut features of the 1990s is back in print.
Tsai spoke with us about making Rebels of the Neon God and his participation in the film’s recent HD restoration.
Tsai’s debut makes one yearn for an alternative reality where it, not Pulp Fiction, became the beacon of ’90s independent filmmaking.
Cinema Guild’s Blu-ray of Tsai’s elegant, unflinching is a must-own.
The BAFICI seems to channel the sheer variety of the Internet, where it seems all movies from all eras are available.
This isn’t the first time Tsai has chronicled the extraordinarily deliberate travels of this anonymous red-clothed spiritual figure.
As a kind of “festival of festivals,” the Viennale is one of the most esteemed fixtures in the world-cinema circuit.
Tsai Ming-liang’s critique of patriarchal control is secondary to his portrait of unbearable psychic conditions.
The latest film by Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne left me speechless.
The most significant exception to Yang’s concern with the present day remains the much lauded but rarely seen A Brighter Summer Day.
With The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus, Terry Gilliam gets his Fellini freak on.
My resistance may also be attributed to the fact that I don’t think it was a very well programmed double bill.
For the first time there’s a sense that Tsai is treading water, ineffectually replaying themes better explored in earlier works.
With The Wayward Cloud, Tsai Ming-liang trades contemplative philosophizing for balls-out rhetorical flourishes.
Tsai Ming-liang’s film is an illuminating, musical embrace for the ages.
Tsai’s elegy to a now-departed Taipei theater is also a beautiful love poem to the movies.
Tsai Ming-liang’s compositional dynamics owe as much to Ozu and Antonioni as his penchant for stillness is indebted to Bresson.