Fridae

This is not his first attempt at Song-and-Dance; The Hole in 1998 was a brilliant camp of a musical, mixing grave matters of inter-human dis-communication with a spirit of wilful abandonment in the face of such alienation. The Wayward Cloud, however, is a first in which the great Tsai Ming Liang shares a two-step with his long-time muse and film partner Lee Kang Sheng. And the result of this co-direction is no short of mind-blowing, in all senses of the word. A word of advice: watch out for the last scene.

Hardcore fans of Tsai Ming Liang will no doubt recognise the familiar leitmotivs, not to mention characters, that continue from his past works. In particular the sublime What Time is it There of 2001, in which we first encountered the characters of Lee Kang Sheng and Chen Shiang Chyi.

The Wayward Cloud can arguably be considered a sequel of sorts. Back then, the former was a watch-seller while the latter was a French student embarking on a trip to the terra incognito of Paris. Their encounter was brief, and their love was enigmatic and unconsummated.

Now, with four years passed, the student is back in Taiwan and the watch-seller is a porn-actor. Fate further supplies a job by throwing in a heatwave that plagues the water supplies, further complicating the lives of these lonely denizens. Deprived of precious fluids, the government encourages the consumption of watermelon juice. And while Chen Shiang Chyi's character spends her days rummaging the streets for empty water bottles and stealing water from public toilets, Boogie Knight Xiao Kang (Lee Kang Sheng, second pic from the top) literally spends his time in bed, with real-life Japanese porn star Sumomo Yokazura that is.

Sex in this film is so kinky and explicit (and generous) that it gives most porno a run for their money. But in the hands of Tsai Ming Liang and Lee Kang Sheng, it unnerves more than it titillates. It is also often done in a blackly humorous way: one scene has Yokazura doing an autoerotic feat with a water bottle only to have its cap lost amongst her vaginal folds. Cloud also features some rather, ahem, creative use of watermelons. Aspiring porno filmmakers take note.

As is usual fare in director Tsai's oeuvre, much of the film occurs in silence: bedroom moaning aside, there are fewer than ten conversations between characters. First-time viewers might take some time to adjust to the lugubrious pacing of the film, but like one's virginal orgasm, it is an unforgettable experience. By turns meditative and matter-of-fact-ly expositional, the film shows much more with its silently observing camera than plain verbal exchange between characters.

The laconic film is also interspersed with exuberant musical sequences that will no doubt inspire new routines at your local gay bar. Campy, colourful, and wildly imaginative, they are distractions from the drabness of the characters' lives. Set to Chinese oldies these musical sequences are visually stunning and riotously funny - nothing beats seeing Yang Gui Mei in red conical bra and Lee Kang Sheng dressed as a human-penis. However, as wonderfully conceived as they are, these divergences do sometimes jolt the rhythm of the film, giving it an uneven feel. The Hole was a much better attempt at melding the musical numbers with the film's drama.

Ultimately, Cloud is not everyone's cup of tea (or watermelon juice for that matter), and even fans might have reasons for complains. But nothing can detract this visionary film with its courage to challenge the boundaries of cinema. This must-see for every arthouse film connoisseur has much more than just tongues in its cheek; indeed, it shows more balls than any other film one can hope to witness this year.

Click here to read Fridae's exclusive interview with director Tsai Ming Liang (in Chinese).