MovieMartyr.com - The Wayward Cloud

The Wayward Cloud, a rare (first?) stumble from Taiwanese auteur Tsai Ming-liang, at least proves that a subpar effort from the director is still not much to be ashamed of. A tenuous sequel to What Time Is It There?, one of Tsai’s best works, Cloud features two of that film’s protagonists played by the same actors (Lee Kang-sheng & Chen Shiang-chyi). Lee’s character is asked at one point whether he still sells watches, and Chen’s still has her familiar suitcase, though she’s returned to Taiwan from her stay in Paris. They each seem to be continuing their life from the previous film, albeit somewhat implausibly. Lee’s character has become an actor in porno films. Chen’s now runs an adult video library. They meet one another, and begin a tentative relationship, which is stymied by his reluctance to tell her about his new career and his refusal to have sex with her.

It’s a setup that hits on many of Tsai’s thematic obsessions, though it has to be said that The Wayward Cloud feels less like a sequel to What Time Is It There? than a loose remake of The Hole, another of Tsai’s films, with which it shares no direct plot connections. As in that film, Cloud takes place in a version of Taiwan afflicted by a water-related disaster (a drought this time instead of a flood), features musical numbers, and is set primarily in one apartment building. The obsession with bodily functions that surfaces in all of Tsai’s films, resurfaces here as well, prompting most of the director’s Tatiesque gags. We’re made privy to the squishy sex noises created as Lee diddles a watermelon wedged between a woman’s legs. We see a shower sex scene requires a grip to provide the shower, since the faucets have been turned off. We’re asked to giggle as a water bottle is lost inside a porno model’s vagina. Too often this stuff is not funny enough to inspire more than immature tittering, no matter how thematically relevant it might be. It seems obvious that it’s intended on another level to disturb us (certainly the comatose porn shoot later in the film does), but to underline the fact that the porn industry objectifies women and creates social alienation is pretty facile.

The cutting here is sometimes much faster than in Tsai’s last few films, and the overall rhythm suffers as a result. Tsai’s carefully constructed movies achieve a sort of somber majesty at their very best but here too many of the longueurs just feel long. I’d suspect the juxtaposition of brief comic scenes and longer, sadder scenes was to blame, but that’s always been Tsai’s modus operandi, and it’s never been a problem before. The affectless performances might be to blame (More words come from TV broadcasts than the film’s cast.), but again, that’s not an uncommon element in the director’s work. Maybe it’s just that since his films are always such balancing acts, the slightest of miscalculations can cause them to feel “off”. There’s still some incredible imagery on display here from time to time, such as when shampoo seems to enclose Lee’s head in the titular cloud or when we see him sleeping suspended over a vertiginous stairwell, but these moments are just isolated moments. Throughout, the imposing landscape of the city makes the few people that move throughout it almost feel like afterthoughts, and Tsai’s decision to frame his leads so that even when they share a frame one’s usually leaving or sleeping pays off thematically, but not really emotionally.

It’s a shame that little else pays off here. The Wayward Cloud is ultimately too ambiguous in its meanings to have much impact. Though the tone is obviously sad, and the film is examining sexual alienation, it’s difficult to ascertain its specific attitudes. The final scene is certainly desperate, but it’s simultaneously a fulfillment of the longing that’s existed throughout, so it feels cathartic. The porn industry is being looked at in a negative light here, though it’s clearly a perceptive industry that’s quick to incorporate any societal malaise into its bag of tricks and it’s not without its therapeutic uses. The highly sexual musical numbers might be intended to provide an escapist release, but most of them fail to transport us away from the main plot. Maybe they’re supposed to be, like the pornography that’s being created, inadequate fantasy devices, but a sequence late in the film, filled with dancers carrying watermelon umbrellas does manage to liven things up, so it’s tough to say for sure. The Wayward Cloud frustrates because it has all of the right elements of Tsai’s usual work, but little of his usual poeticism. Clearly Tsai’s work, it falls short of his usual cohesive standards. As the title implies, watching the film is an experience that’s rather directionless.

07.13.05

Jeremy Heilman