Goodbye, Dragon Inn [Blu-ray] [2020]

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But then it would no longer be Sátántangó, just as doing likewise to Goodbye, Dragon Inn would effectively rob the film of its identity. Don't worry about spoilers (none here, but don't worry about others'), because not much happens in the movie.

The film runs for 82 minutes, yet I have a feeling that if the footage was handed to most editors to assemble without guidance from the director then the length would be shortened by about two-thirds. In this wide-ranging and elegiac essay, Nick Pinkerton reflects upon Tsai Ming-liang’s 2003 film Goodbye, Dragon Inn, a modern classic haunted by the ghosts and portents of a culture in flux.The movie's point of view is variously that of the young limping woman, the Japanese kid, and the old actors, but ultimately, Tsai tells the story from the theater's point of view, as if he interviewed it Tsai-style, pointing the camera at it and letting the theater speak at its edificial pace. Then there’s the editing, which doesn’t so much break with convention as completely disregard it and make up rules of its own. If you’re looking for a Taiwanese take on The Last Picture Show, however, you’ve come to the wrong film, as while there are indeed multiple characters to keep tabs on here, this is no coming-of-age story and there aren’t any real character arcs of note. The community that has outgrown the old Fu Ho cinema seems to tell its patrons, its employees, and even the building itself that all of them really ought to be somewhere else. And when filmmakers play with traditional form and structure, this can sometimes result in works that make for challenging viewing, precisely because they do not conform to long-established rules and expectations.

I’ve genuinely lost count of the number of times I’ve fought to tolerate such a disturbance, and when my disapproving glares failed to have even the smallest impact I would often move seats to avoid a potentially unpleasant confrontation.It doesn't tell a story, really, but conveys what it's like to walk along empty city streets on a rainy night, alone.

Both are in fine shape with a strong dynamic range and excellent clarity, but the DTS surround track most definitely has the edge, having a fuller and more expansive feel that really showcases the film’s layered sound design and making inclusive use of the full sound stage. I’ve no doubt that an argument has been made that if that film was re-edited to bring the shot length down to a functional norm then it would probably run for only a couple of hours. As in other Tsai movies, the colors are rich, and even the starkest images are carefully composed, allowing the film to convey the full depth of feelings. In the only fast cut sequence in the film, the cashier is momentarily mesmerised by the fighting skills of the on-screen movie’s female action star Shangguan Lingfeng, the rapid back-and-forth cutting between the two hinting at the cashier’s dreams for life that fate has denied her.Many loved the old moviehouses in their grand glory days, but in "Goodbye Dragon Inn," Tsai shows the beauty of the big theaters as their curtains slowly fall. Similarly featured is the handicapped box office cashier (Chen Hsiang-Chyi), who is first seen as her other duties cause her to just miss the arrival of the Japanese tourist and is then observed at length tucking into a sizeable steamed rice bun, a piece of which she decides to give to the projectionist (Tsai regular Lee Kang-Sheng). Booklet featuring new essays by curator and critic Tony Rayns, plus a personal appreciation by filmmaker Apichatpong Weerasethakul. This extended sequence reminded me of Shindō Kaneto’s The Naked Island, whose wordless opening half-hour consists solely of a husband and wife carrying water from the mainland to the island on which they have made a home and up difficult pathways to the fields in which their crops grow. Also included is a Booklet that features a fascinating essay on the film and its director by Tony Rayns, who also provides some useful background information (that I have cribbed from above) and assessment of Madam Butterfly, plus an appreciation of Goodbye, Dragon Inn by acclaimed filmmaker Apichatpong Weerasethakul.

When the woman approaches the ticket office, for instance, the angle chosen suggests the ticket seller was not in on the gag and was thus expected not to sell the woman a ticket because she is just short of the required fare, but when seller is encouraged by others to accept this lower payment she agrees, and a reason for declining this offer then has to be quickly manufactured, or at least that’s the way it seems. Outside, he meets Miao Tien, who also acted in the film and attended the screening with his grandson.

Goodbye, Dragon Inn ( Chinese: 不散) is a 2003 Taiwanese comedy-drama slow cinema film written and directed by Tsai Ming-liang about a movie theater about to close down and its final screening of the 1967 wuxia film Dragon Inn. MetrographPics will be releasing the new 4K restoration of GOODBYE, DRAGON INN digitally starting 12/18. By the time he elects to move seats it occurred to me that I’d been watching this unfold in a single shot in real time, and that this was why it felt so familiar to me. The final screening at a run-down Taipei cinema is the venue for GOODBYE, DRAGON INN [BO SAN], Tsai Ming-Liang's poetic, touching and intermittently humorous example of 'slow cinema'. In an old Taipei movie theatre, on the eve of a ‘temporary closing’, King Hu’s 1967 wuxia classic Dragon Inn plays to a dwindling audience.