Days

"Rizi" ("Days" in English) is the first Tsai Ming-liang movie that I've ever seen. It appears that he's Taiwan's answer to Jim Jarmusch. The movie is the ultimate example of slow cinema, featuring long takes and only a handful of lines (none of which are subtitled). I guess you could say that the movie is about life, as an affluent man and an immigrant have a brief fling.

You'll have to avoid the movie if you want to see superheroes, explosions, car chases, etc. This is a low-key film focused very much on the characters. I wouldn't call it the greatest movie ever made, but it's still more interesting than the umpteenth movie where Tom Cruise narrowly avoids all danger. I don't know if it's available on any streaming service, so you'll probably have to check a neighborhood video store.

The first scenes is actually a good test. If you enjoy it, I think you'll love this movie. If not, I strongly advise you to stop there. The whole movie is indeed made of the same substance: long motionless sequence-shot. No action per so. No dialog.

Days is one of those movies that you either hate and feel so bored or love and truly enjoy. It's like 2 h long with no dialogue, there's literally no conversation at all, and the shots are slow, motionless and long. I personally don't mind this genre and I did love this movie. Days is visually stunning, the cinematography is great with many amazing frames. It has no words but it has lots of vibes, it delivers lots of emotions about loneliness, affection, attachment, routine, etc. If you're into a beautiful silent visual cinematic experience then Days would be a perfect choice.

Actually, none/nada, but still captivating as we silently (except for a few scenes with background noise) follow two men as they live their days. We experience one's pain though heated acupuncture; acupressure; neck brace; very deep total body muscle tearing massage. For millions that day-to-day marginal existence defines their lives?

In his latest films, Ming-Liang Tsai seems to shed all the superfluous elements. This recovery of the body (the real illness of actor Kang-sheng Lee) and of the spirit (the alienation in the city) is a challenge to the viewer which does not need dialogue to express a certain desolation, which is also a disease of our society. The director makes cinema more pure, but also more difficult to bear.