Though his debut feature “Rebels of the Neon God” is now also widely praised, it was with his second production “Vive L’Amour” that Taiwanese auteur Tsai Ming-liang really burst onto the world stage. The feature had it premiere at the 51st Venice International Film Festival, where it won the prestigious Golden Lion award. It also went on to win the Best Picture, Best Director and Best Sound Effects awards at the Golden Horse Awards.
“Vive L’Amour” is streaming on MUBI
It all starts when Hsiao-kang, a salesman, finds the key to a new duplex apartment and quietly pockets it. One night, he sneaks into the empty apartment and after using the bath, gets ready to take his life by cutting his wrist. Elsewhere, Ah-jung sees May Lin, a real estate agent, at a food court and follows her. When May Lin catches on to the man’s advances, she invites him to an apartment she is trying to sell for a one-night stand, which turns out to be the same place where Hsiao-kang has just cut his wrist. On hearing the two enter the house, Hsiao-kang stops the bleeding and quietly sneaks out, only to return later and start using the house. Ah-jung, meanwhile, also steals a key from May Lin and returns later to live in one of the bedrooms. Both Ah-jung and Hsiao-kang, of course, run into each other eventually and a unique co-existence begins to form between them.
If you ever thought that Taipei was a warm, lively city, Tsai Ming-liang is here to tell you it categorically is not. Sure, there’s the vibrancy that comes with being in the metropolis, but for our three protagonists, it’s possibly the loneliest place, each carrying an ocean of lonesomeness within them. The loneliness that follows the three also reflects in their conversations, or the lack of them. The feature is, for the most part, light on dialogue but the completely dialogue-free first 23 minutes establish that communication is not really a strong point for either of the central characters. Even when May and Ah-jung go about their tryst, there’s nary a word said between the two, and any sexual moments, including the act of masturbation, carries a sense of angst rather than eroticism with it, highlighting an emptiness that no sexual gratification can fill.
Whatever conversation happens between Hsiao-kang and Ah-jung is also kept to the bare minimum, their discomfort evident. Instead, the focus is on long gazes and unspoken understandings. And yet, despite this lack of communication, Tsai manages to show an intrinsic connection between them. For all three, the apartment acts as a sole temporary respite from the hustle and bustle of Taipei, with Hsiao-kang using it as a retreat of sorts, Ah-jung as a domicile and May Lin using it catch those few moments of relief from her busy but ultimately lonely life.
Tsai regulars Lee Kang-sheng, who has appeared in every single film by the Taiwanese auteur to date, and Chen Chao-jung both feature as Hsiao-kang and Ah-jung respectively. A large part of the narrative focuses on Hsiao-kang as he goes about his activities with an almost-poetic mundaneness and a unique innocence on his face. Chen Chao-jung, meanwhile, plays the carefree and charming vagrant with a convincing perfection. Yan Kuei-mei, another Tsai regular, makes her first appearance in his oeuvre and goes through her scenes breezily but manages to bowl you over in the haunting final scene.
All the technical traits that Tsai Ming-liang films are now renowned for are also present and accounted for here. The story is majorly set within the apartment and Liao Pen-jung’s and Lin Ming-kuo’s cinematography shows its wide emptiness to heighten the isolation within it. Taipei, through their lens, takes on an almost surreal appearance, specially during the night sequences. Long takes populate the feature’s runtime, culminating in a superb extended cut featuring May Lin at the still-incomplete Da’an Park. Sung Shia-cheng’s editing, meanwhile, keeps the same leisurely pace that puts Tsai and his films at the forefront of the “slow cinema” genre.
“Vive L’Amour”, literally “Long Live Love”, is an ironic title for Tsai Ming-liang’s sophomore feature, since there’s nothing remotely similar to love within reach for any of the three protagonist. Regardless, it is a terrific showcase of not just the director’s works but also the Taiwanese New Wave in general. The final scene, a more than five minutes long one take featuring May Lin, an iconic Taipei location and, yes, an intense palpable loneliness, will surely refuse to leave your minds for days on end.
