Entre a superfície e a profundidade: câmera-corpo no cinema asiático contemporâneo

This article examines the uses of long takes, deep focus and intertextuality in Tsai Ming-Liang's Goodbye, Dragon Inn. Andre Bazin argued that long takes and deep focus create a form of ‘cinematic humanism’. Tsai instead uses the techniques to produce effects of disorientation and humour. The article then examines the theory of intertextuality as proposed by Julia Kristeva. It is argued that Tsai uses intertextuality to confuse the boundaries between Goodbye, Dragon Inn and King Hu's Dragon Gate Inn as well as between the viewer, the medium of film and the cinema space. The article ends with a warning against putting too much faith in grand theoretical structures to provide exhaustive readings of Tsai's films. It is argued that an aspect of Tsai's cinema that is overlooked by such approaches is its light-heartedness.

This paper explores the cinematic meta-theme of the “death of cinema” through the lens of Taiwanese director, Tsai Ming-liang’s 2003 film, Goodbye, Dragon Inn. In the film, the final screening of the wuxia pian classic, Dragon Inn, directed by King Hu, provides a focal point for the exploration of the diminished experience of institutional cinema in the post-cinematic age. Using the concept of “dissipation” in conjunction with a reappraisal of the turn to affect theory, this paper explores the kinds of subjective experiences that cinema can offer, and the affective experience of cinema-going itself, as portrayed in Goodbye, Dragon Inn. More specifically, in theorizing the role of dissipation in cinema-going, this paper explores the deployment of time and space in Goodbye, Dragon Inn and how it directs attention to the bodily action of cinema-going itself. The result is a critique of the possibilities of post-cinematic affects, rooted in an understanding of the way that late-capitalism continues to dominate and shape the range of experiences in the contemporary moment.

Book Review| March 01 2023 Review: Cruisy, Sleepy, Melancholy: Sexual Disorientation in the Films of Tsai Ming-liang, by Nicholas de Villiers Cruisy, Sleepy, Melancholy: Sexual Disorientation in the Films of Tsai Ming-liang, by Nicholas de Villiers Tanner Benson Tanner Benson TANNER BENSON is an MA graduate of the University of North Carolina Wilmington, with a special interest in aesthetics, theory, and slow cinema. Search for other works by this author on: This Site PubMed Google Scholar BOOK DATA Nicholas de Villiers, Cruisy, Sleepy, Melancholy: Sexual Disorientation in the Films of Tsai Ming-liang. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2022. $100.00 cloth; $25.00 paper. 216 pages. Film Quarterly (2023) 76 (3): 109–110. https://doi.org/10.1525/fq.2023.76.3.109 Views Icon Views Article contents Figures & tables Video Audio Supplementary Data Peer Review Share Icon Share Facebook Twitter LinkedIn MailTo Tools Icon Tools Get Permissions Cite Icon Cite Search Site Citation Tanner Benson; Review: Cruisy, Sleepy, Melancholy: Sexual Disorientation in the Films of Tsai Ming-liang, by Nicholas de Villiers. Film Quarterly 1 March 2023; 76 (3): 109–110. doi: https://doi.org/10.1525/fq.2023.76.3.109 Download citation file: Ris (Zotero) Reference Manager EasyBib Bookends Mendeley Papers EndNote RefWorks BibTex toolbar search Search Dropdown Menu toolbar search search input Search input auto suggest filter your search All ContentFilm Quarterly Search BOOK DATA Nicholas de Villiers, Cruisy, Sleepy, Melancholy: Sexual Disorientation in the Films of Tsai Ming-liang. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2022. $100.00 cloth; $25.00 paper. 216 pages. Few directors have such an enigmatic, self-reflexive oeuvre as Tsai Ming-liang. Having completed twelve feature films, a plentitude of shorts, and a handful of museum exhibitions (including the first-ever work of film commissioned for the Louvre in Paris), Tsai cruises through different spaces of exhibition in ways that question the limits of the cinematic and theatrical. While any auteur’s work frequently returns to similar themes and stylistic devices throughout their career, Tsai’s films often comment on themselves, thematically folding in on each other. The result is a stunning, career-long metacinematic universe unto itself. In Cruisy, Sleepy, Melancholy: Sexual Disorientation in the Films of Tsai Ming-liang, Nicholas de Villiers illuminates Tsai’s complicated and opaque filmography by unpacking the complex intersectional... You do not currently have access to this content.

Tsai Ming-liang’s Goodbye, Dragon Inn (2003) depicts a nearly vacant cinema screening King Hu’s martial arts film Dragon Gate Inn (1967) on its last night of business. The film’s composition of the theatre, empty and decaying, marks it as a haunted house, and the few people present as ghosts lingering nostalgically lamenting the theatre’s impending closure. This article, thus, offers a reading of Goodbye, Dragon Inn attending to the intertextual invocation of Dragon Gate Inn as well as the metacinematic focus of the theatre and its operation through the lens of horror film generic conventions. The ghosts populating the theatre present an alternative temporality that values and seeks to preserve the past. Yet the anomie infecting them, characteristically of Tsai’s films, prevents anything more than a temporary nostalgia that cannot adequately establish the past as a viable temporal mode. In the end, the theatre closes and the ghosts disperse.

By bringing together King Hu's classic Dragon Gate Inn, a haunted theatrical space of a bygone era, and a marginalized cruising ‘community’ of gay men, Tsai Ming-liang's Goodbye, Dragon Inn engages a politics of place to disrupt the seamless cooptation of nostalgia into the transnational capitalist structures and networks of cultural consumption. The film achieves this through Tsai's formulation of a cinematic aesthetics of lingering.

How can we qualify slowness in cinema? What is the relationship between a cinema of slowness and a wider socio-cultural movement? A body of films that shares a propensity toward slowness has emerged in many parts of the world over the past two decades. This is the first book to examine the concept of cinematic slowness and address this fascinating phenomenon in contemporary film culture. Providing a critical investigation into questions of temporality, materiality, and aesthetics, and examining concepts of authorship, cinephilia, and nostalgia, Song Hwee Lim offers insight into cinematic slowness through the films of the Malaysian-born, Taiwan-based director Tsai Ming-liang. Through detailed analysis of aspects of stillness and silence in cinema, Lim delineates the strategies by which slowness in film can be constructed. By drawing on writings on cinephilia and the films of directors such as Abbas Kiarostami, Hou Hsiao-hsien, and Nuri Bilge Ceylan, he makes a passionate case for a slow cinema that calls for renewed attention to the image and to the experience of time in film. Tsai Ming-Liang and a Cinema of Slowness will speak to readers with an interest in art cinema, queer studies, East Asian culture, and the question of time. In an age of unrelenting acceleration of pace both in film and in life, this book invites us to pause and listen, to linger and look, and, above all, to take things slowly.

Tsai Ming-liang’s 2003 Goodbye, Dragon Inn depicts a nearly vacant cinema screening King Hu’s martial arts film Dragon Gate Inn (1967) on its last night of business. The film’s composition of the theatre, empty and decaying, marks it as a haunted house, and the few people present as ghosts lingering nostalgically lamenting the theatre’s impending closure. “Consumption,” thus, offers a reading of Goodbye, Dragon Inn attending to the intertextual invocation of Dragon Gate Inn as well as the metacinematic focus of the theatre and its operation through the lens of horror film generic conventions. The ghosts populating the theatre present an alternative temporality that values and seeks to preserve the past. Yet the anomie infecting them, characteristically of Tsai’s films, prevents anything more than a temporary nostalgia that cannot adequately establish the past as a viable temporal mode. In the end, the theatre closes and the ghosts disperse.

This article will analyze the representation of ghost in Taiwanese visual culture, focusing on the work of Tsai Ming‑liang. In 2003, in a dialogue of Goodbye, Dragon Inn, he already declared the “death of cinema” - Tsai’s cinema is apparently becoming a ghost itself. But probably, the epitaph for cinema was enounced too early. In Taipei the venues for appreciation of cinema are more and more rich: museums, coffee shops, cinema festivals.... After the presentation in Venice Mostra of his film Stray Dogs, which was announced as his last one, the director fused moving images with artistic installations, and worked on the memories of cinema by creating an art that is displayed in museums. Filmic ghost, insubstantial presence, Tsai’s cinema is disincarnated like a ghost, pervasive of Taiwanese culture, both scary (is it revengeful?) and reassuring (after death, something still lingers between the living). Analyzing his work helps us reflect on the future incarnations of the cinema medium and its interactions with new media.

This paper aims to discuss the rains in Tsai Ming-Liang's Goodbye Dragon Inn and the rich meanings behind the pouring rains. As known, rain is a natural cycle of water. Tsai' intentionally projected King Hu's Dragon Inn in the Goodbye Dragon Inn, this special recycle phenomenon of images is just like water recycle in nature. The endless repetitions of falling rains in Tsai's films somehow answer to what Nietzsche called 'Eternal Return.' Also in this paper we follow the western philosophers' steps, including Nietzsche, Heidegger, and Deleuze, to make references to Tsai's films on the subject of repetition and recyclage. Every rain has its temporality, in Tsai's Goodbye Dragon Inn; the rains carry multiple presentations of temporality and labyrinth, and also the visual metonymy. By combining arguments mentioned above, this paper tries to analyze this rain in Tsai's film and its rich connotations.

In Taipei, walls crumble, ceilings cave in, and spaces portend their impending destruction—or so the city is portrayed by some of its most prominent filmmakers. The directors Edward Yang (Yang Dechang) and Tsai Ming-liang (Cai Mingliang) present two mirroring aspects of urban ruin. Tsai has focused on sites of doom and vanishing cityscapes. In Dong (The Hole, 1998), two residents cope with the growing porosity of their damaged and leaking apartments, while Taipei is under quarantine because of an epidemic outbreak. The short Tianqiao bu jian le (The Skywalk is Gone) focuses on the sky walk in front of the New Railway Station, which was torn down since filming Tsai’s Ni neibian jidian (What Time is it There?, 2001). Bu san (English title Goodbye, Dragon Inn, 2003) takes place in Fuhe Grand Theater in Yong-ho, designated for demolition and razed soon after the shoot. Edward Yang’s Taipei, on the other hand, is mostly affluent and chic. Yet glittering images of the prosperous city provide an ironic commentary on the breakdown of interpersonal relations. The deep unrest is foregrounded against the fashionably designed hangouts of the jet set.KeywordsPublic SpaceUrban SpaceCity DwellerEnglish TitleModern Chinese LiteratureThese keywords were added by machine and not by the authors. This process is experimental and the keywords may be updated as the learning algorithm improves.

Abordamos o cinema como narrativa problematizadora da contemporaneidade, a partir da memória, dos distanciamentos afetivos e da sexualidade, que são determinantes para as representações artístico-culturais. Analisamos o filme Adeus, Dragon Inn (2003, de Tsai Ming-liang) em uma perspectiva filmográfica e comparativa com o cinema asiático contemporâneo. Entendemos que um filme pertence a uma tradição e dialoga com o cinema do seu tempo. A análise fílmica deve buscar uma maior compreensão das operações de significação, sensoriais e histórico-culturais dos filmes. Para isso, partimos das vertentes que pensam a contemporaneidade e a linguagem do cinema. Observamos que a obra de Tsai Ming-liang está em estreita sintonia com o contemporâneo, desenvolve constantes narrativas e uma fina reflexão sobre si, seus meios e potencial estéticos.

Following the recent success of Taiwanese film directors, such as Hou Hsiao-hsien, Edward Yang, Ang Lee and Tsai Ming-liang, Taiwanese film is raising its profile in contemporary cinema. This collection presents an exciting and ambitious foray into the cultural politics of contemporary Taiwan film that goes beyond the auterist mode, the nation-state argument and vestiges of the New Cinema. Cinema Taiwan considers the complex problems of popularity, conflicts between transnational capital and local practice, non-fiction and independent filmmaking as emerging modes of address, and new possibilities of forging vibrant film cultures embedded in national (identity) politics, gender/sexuality and community activism. Insightful and challenging, the essays in this collection will attract attention to a globally significant field of cultural production and will appeal to readers from the areas of film studies, cultural studies and Chinese culture and society.

GBS_insertPreviewButtonPopup(['ISBN:9780748682010','ISBN:9780748682027','ISBN:9780748682041']); Places Taiwanese cinema from the 1980s onwards in both national and transnational contexts Read and download the introduction for free here (pdf) In the Taiwanese film industry, the dichotomy between ‘art-house’ and commercially viable films is heavily emphasized. However, since the democratization of the political landscape in Taiwan, Taiwanese cinema has become internationally fluid. As the case studies in this book demonstrate, filmmakers such as Hou Hsiao-hsien, Edward Yang, Tsai Ming-liang, and Ang Lee each engage with international audience expectations. New Taiwanese Cinema in Focus therefore presents the Taiwanese New Wave and Second Wave movements with an emphasis on intertextuality, citation and trans-cultural dialogue. Wilson argues that the cinema of Taiwan since the 1980s should be read emblematically; that is, as a representation of the greater paradox that exists in national and transnational cinema studies. She argues that these unlikely relationships create the need for a new way of thinking about ‘transnationalism’ altogether, making this an essential read for advanced students and scholars in both Film Studies and Asian Studies. "

It can be argued that the most exciting contemporary cinemas in the last decade or so have emerged from Asia. The combined forces of the three new waves in the Chinese world – mainland China, Taiwan and Hong Kong – since the early 1980s have produced established masters like Zhang Yimou, Chen Kaige, Hou Hsiao-hsien, Edward Yang, Ang Lee, Tsai Ming-liang, Stanley Kwan and Wong Kar-wai, as well as the new visions of Jiang Wen, Jia Zhangke, Liu Bingjian, Chang Cho-chi, Lin Cheng-sheng, Yee Chih-yen, and Fruit Chan. Iranian cinema, led by Abbas Kiarostami and the Makhmalbaf family, revives humanism and realism with its deceptively simple aesthetics. More recently, the booming industries of South Korea and Thailand, alongside always-thriving Bollywood, fascinate with their idiosyncratic variations on generic forms.

This book offers an innovative study of three provocative Chinese directors: Wong Kar-wai, Hou Hsiao-hsien, and Tsai Ming-liang, whose highly stylized and non-linear configurations of time have brought new global respect for Chinese cinema. Amplifying motifs of loss, nostalgia, haunting, and ephemeral poetics, they each insist on the significance of being out of time, not merely out of place, as a condition of global modernity and transnational cultures of memory.