Qian xi man bo

The opening scene in which Vicky runs in slow motion accompanied by some fine techno music is amazing. This scene haunts me to the present day (and I've seen the film in 2001) and is in my opinion just visually/technically stunning. Also the colours which Hou Hsiao-hsien captures are amazing, eye candy. I've seen the Film at a film festival and liked it a lot. It may seem boring to some people because there seems to be no real given story (with twists and turns to be expected). But the slow development of the story depicts real life and pulls one deeper into the movie.

Also I wanted to note that the film is also known as "chie shi manpo" - millennium mambo.

I saw this movie at Vancouver International Film Festival. As typical of a HHH movie showing, some audiences walked out, which means it is slow-paced. Again with his customary long shots, all the acting and actions appear quite realistic. Jack Kao is convincing and cool as always. Shu Qi brings a credible portrayal to a not-so-interesting character. And the movie has a lyrical feel (especially the opening tracking shot and the snow scenes), accompanied nicely by the atmospheric theme music.

However, the two main characters just don't have appealing personalities. Like the characters in "South Goodbye South", both Vicky and Hao are restless, aimless & not very bright. (Lifeless) Rebels without a cause. I am wondering whether this is how Hou and Chu (the screenwriter) perceive the twentysomethings in Taiwan. Since Vicky is narrating from 10 years into the future, I do realize she will mature. Her transformation that starts here was not shown convincingly though. I also know that this is the first of a series of films on this decade, but it doesn't feel fully realized on its own.

I also have a slight problem with the narration preceding the real events. It makes the expected events boring, when the real events don't bring anything extra (e.g. contradiction, irony) to the narration.

Compared to "South Goodbye South", this one may not be as ambitious thematically. While "South Goodbye South" has a lot of boredom and dread (possibly intentionally so), I like the poetic, reflective and semi-nostalgic mood of "Mambo" much more.

A hollow life is observed clinically but sympathetically in this melancholy, graceful film, which is itself hollow but compelling, like the dance beat it is set to. The director uses a convention I hadn't seen since early silent films: a summary description of an action, followed by its acting out. Also, the story is narrated from a time yet to come. These devices create the sense that the events have happened before--as they have, in the cyclical, purposeless life we are witnessing--and also that they are inevitable. The story is narrated in the voice of the leading character, but in the third person: an older self from a real future? or an alternate reality? or only her imagination? The narration is necessary as a comment on the characters' behavior because in the numb and mindless hedonism that draws them in and keeps drawing them (she keeps leaving the boyfriend who embodies this life style but keeps returning to him) they are never shown as capable of thought. Whether the film means to say that, or is simply limiting its view and depth of field to exclude their thoughts as peripheral to their lives, this lack works to unconvince us. The characters are shown in attitudes of thought but never speak anything like a thought, even a stupid one; they are moved entirely by want and impulse. The hedonist boyfriend is shown as having friends; how? Nobody not brain-dead exists in a state of pure mindlessness. That is the view of parents whose adolescent refuses to talk to them: who can understand these kids? This film describes a life--and this is an interesting accomplishment, but a relatively narrow one. More difficult, in this milieu, and ultimately more interesting would have been to discover the person whose life it is (or will have been).

Apparently, the major critics were not willing. Hou Hsiao-hsien is no longer the Flavor of the Month, if the reception given to *Millennium Mambo* is any guide. Hou may no longer be trendy, but his latest film remains a masterpiece -- just another notch on the Master's belt. The critics castigated Hou for wasting our collective time with a movie about a party girl; simultaneously, they praised the juvenile *Kill Bill* to the skies. The critic for the New York Times essentially declared that the artistry in the movie wasn't worth it. The critic was "bored" by the artistry.

Meanwhile, those of us who are NOT bored by Hou's artistry may enjoy a feast of it in this edgy, profoundly sad movie. It's set in Taipei in 2001, though the narrating heroine "Vicky" (a gorgeous Shu Qi) speaks to us from 10 years in the "future". The film was actually MADE in 2001, though it didn't reach American shores until earlier this year: hence, an unintended poignancy arises from the fact that we, too, are looking at the film's events from the future -- a jaded, rancorous, post-September 11 future. We feel as despairing as the narrating Vicky sounds, and observe the decadent nightlife depicted here with the same sense of disbelief: were we really that hopeful, were we really that careless, when the new millennium was ushered in? In the first scene, she's walking -- almost dancing, really -- down a long concrete promenade under pale florescent lights, while the wall-to-wall techno music starts thumping ever louder. It's a moment of incandescent happiness in a movie that has few such moments.

For the unpleasant details soon assert themselves: she's getting spacey on drugs in a nightclub, returning home to a live-in boyfriend who is abusive, on drugs himself, and erratically but dangerously jealous. One scene, at once nasty and blackly humorous, shows the boyfriend literally sniffing for evidence of adultery on Vicky. The girl occasionally rebels at these indignities and leaves the jerk, but, "as if hypnotized", she always returns whenever he finds her and begs her to come back to him (and he ALWAYS finds her). Hou instinctively understands the self-destructive persona, and he meticulously illustrates Vicky's addictions, whether to cigarettes, booze, "excitement", or degrading sexual relationships. The narration gives us a crucial clue, as well: we learn that this boyfriend of hers convinced her to blow off her final high school exam years back, which basically made her a drop-out and started her on a path toward a wasted life. Hou also understands WHY we're self-destructive; he understands that failure is so much easier.

Occasionally, we get a break from the woozy-headed, nauseous neon underworld of Taipei and find ourselves in a snow-covered fantasyland on the Hokkaido island of Japan. Here, while frolicking in a winter wonderland with a casual Japanese boyfriend and his brother, Vicky reverts, with much relief, to childhood. There's a poignant moment when she leaves an imprint of her face in a mound of snow. The camera lingers lovingly on the image of the barely visible imprint -- it's as convenient a symbol as any for the barely visible life of a pretty party girl without talents or prospects, the type of girl one usually sees only fleetingly in movies about more melodramatic subjects like gangsters (and, yes, this movie is about gangsters, too). She's the hanger-on, the pretty ornament on the arm of the criminal. Well, leave it to Hou Hsiao-hsien, the world's greatest working director, to dare to assert that the Vickys of the world not only have a story to tell, but that their stories can be as bleak and nihilistic -- and as artfully rendered -- as any of your King Lears.

It goes without saying that the Hou's camera placement is utterly and simply without peer. If anything, *Millennium Mambo* marks an advance in his technique: he takes a little more control, here, and is not quite so blandly omniscient as he can sometimes be. It's hard to write about technicalities, but Hou somehow has managed to find the perfect balance between a focused POV and his more usual reliance on oblique reference points. His cameraman, Mark Lee Ping-Bing (of *In the Mood for Love* fame), gloriously realizes Hou's vision with incredible color: smeary and throbbing neon in Taipei, ethereal and misty white in Japan. Finally, Hou has also convinced me that techno and "Deep House" music can actually approximate art . . . as long as this type of music is paired with, well, a movie by Hou Hsiao-hsien. (See his *Goodbye South, Goodbye* for more evidence.)

*Millennium Mambo* is a must-see for the cineaste. 9 stars out of 10.

The mood in which I left after viewing Millennium Mambo was a heavy sort of depression. I felt as if I had experienced, or re-experienced through memory, events causing one to give in to hopelessness; to accept being dominated by another. In retrospect, Vicky describes this period of time as being hypnotized or under a spell. Hou Hsiao-hsien is successful in casting that spell on his audience. Three aspects of the film lend to this success: the non-sequential unfolding of events, the use of long-takes from a more or less distant perspective, and the sound track. One of the first glimpses into Vicky¡¯s life with Ah Hao is at a time in their relationship when she has already given up. From here we are taken further back to various points in their relationship. There is no story per se, she is simply caught in this cycle of him finding her and her leaving, yet we do learn how she ended up in this cycle. There was a time when she resisted his advances, when she scolded his dangerous drug use, a time before she felt trapped. Knowing the end result of their relationship maintains a sense of hopelessness throughout the film. It is this constant sense of hopelessness, with no comic relief or side story to lift the weight of the mood, that causes the audience to experience the spell she is remembering. ¡°Cold, and colder, that was what I demanded of my camera¡± When I read this quote I immediately recalled the scene I mentioned above, when Vicky endures Ah Hao¡¯s advances, sexual or otherwise, annoyed, but in complete submission and as a matter of routine. The camera follows him to the floor, straining to see through the table obstructing the view but not getting any closer. While this may have been a mixture of ¡°pathos and eros¡± as Ah Hao smelled her body for the scent of other men it was indeed a disturbing violation that the camera forced the audience to participate in by calmly looking on. Other long-takes, showing two or more simultaneous independent actions, helped to invoke her sense of loneliness and the monotony of her life as the minutes dragged. Thirdly, the soundtrack, with its hypnotic beat and mix of high-pitched, eerie sounds, matched the repetition of events played out on the screen. He was the DJ, controlling the sounds added over the same, never-ending rhythm. This is what she lived with, day in and day out. Even as she is walking alone over the bridge, the same music is playing in her head.