"I have this distrust of language; it hinders communication. The challenge is to be more truthful than anything in conversation. Actions speak for themselves." - Tsai Ming-Liang

The Thai film "What Time Is It There?" is a work so drench in loneliness, so unflinching in its depiction of the absolute solitude of existence, that one might expect it to be unbearable to watch. It is, instead, charming and poignant and beautiful. And it is laced with the inherent absurd amusement of life, making it one of the most humane and delightful films you will see this year.

The premise involves several divergent storylines all based on the idea of loneliness and all revolving, however slightly, around one character, Hsiao Kang (Hsiao Kang- Sheng). As a young street salesman specializing in watches, Kang meets Shiang-Chyi, a young woman about to go to Paris. Business brings them together. She buys a watch from him while he plies his wares on the city's business district sidewalk. Meanwhile, at home, Kang's father has just died, The young man is having to cope with his superstitious mother, who misses her husband greatly and hopes to see his return, via reincarnation, soon.

Filmmaker and co-scripter Tsai Ming-Liang creates a world so isolated and cold, yet real, that it is both harrowing and utterly beautiful in its sorrow. Moving effortlessly from the street, into the home, and then into Paris, Ming-Liang frames his pictures like an artist. If at all possible, do not see "What Time Is It There?" on a TV screen; see it on the huge screen of a movie theater. The images in this film are so lovely and perfect that the film moves like a continuous modern painting, evolving and regrouping over and over again into flawless vignettes. Look at the picture when Kang watches the scene from "The 400 Blows" where Jean-Pierre Leaud rides the gravity ride at the fairground. It is gorgeous. How about the shot where the fish eats the cockroach. Peerless. And let's not forget the scene where Shiang-Chyi stands outside the little convenience store in Paris. Ming-Liang frames it beautifully. We see the sorrow and the loneliness in Shiang-Chyi and the shopkeeper as they remain in frame together yet just out of each other's sight. The suggestion that we are so often close to coming together, so close to finding that certain someone who might end our loneliness, yet constantly just missing such an opportunity, practically jumps off the screen. It seems bluntly obvious. Yet the scene is so subtle, so staid, such a unmarred example of the proverbial crystalized moment in time, that it could be just as easily missed by those refusing to really SEE. Each frame in the film is delicately and purposefully composed. It may be the most perfect film, visually, in years.

The opening shot is another vision of the film's perfection, an opening scene as purposeful and as complete as any ever filmed. And, equally important, it sets-up Ming-Liang's pacing in the film. Often excruciating slow, the film refuses to move at a speed quicker than life. Unhurried, thoughtful and poised, the film's images cascades slowly across the screen giving us ample time to understand, ponder and reflect upon them. At times, it may seem like Ming-Liang focuses on a particular scene a garishly long time (the mother's masturbation scene, for example). But this is not random nor is it cynical or sarcastic. Ming-Liang has reason for each and every moment in the film. And their breathtaking length, at times, is a reminder of not only the speed of life, but the horror of the solitude which mere existence suggests.

Nearly silent, the film refuses to allow dialogue and pointless pontification to near its frames. Rather, we see stories unfold here with little talk. It is a film utilizing the dialogue of silence. The two most important "sex scenes" in the film, both homosexual, have not a word spoken. The masturbation scene and the heterosexual sex scene towards the film's end are also silent. Ming-Liang, and his accomplished actors, remind us of the tenuous and isolating nature of love and of sex. They remind us that even in love, we are utterly and hopelessly alone. It is a cinema of two as one as sorrow and silent despair. Yet this film is never angst-ridden nor is it homophobic. Rather it suggests the complete and utter failure of humans to connect.

It is important that, in the film, the main character is a watch salesman. In fact, his obsession with clocks and time and time zones (again suggesting two things as one as an impression of loneliness) reflect the pure nature of the passage of times. In a world where time is the only constant, "What Time Is It There?" reminds us that loneliness is almost nearly as consistent as time itself in its utter inhumanity to man.

Note:

DP is Benoit Delhomme.

Hsiao Kang is Lee Kang-Sheng's nickname.

Kang has been in nearly all of Ming-Liang's theatrical releases including "Rebels of the Neon God" (1992), "Vive L'Amour" (1996), "The River" (1997) and "The Hole" (aka "Last Dance") (1998). Of these, only "L'Amour" had been released in the US until The Lincoln Center had a retrospective of Ming- Liang's work in 2001.

Ming-Liang lists the film "The 400 Blows" as his all time favorite. Clips of the film are used twice in "Time" and the star of that film, now grown older, Jean-Pierre Leaud, has a cameo.

Report Card Script: A+ Acting: A+ Cinematography\Lighting: A+ Special Effects\Make Up: A+ Music: A+ Final Grade: A+

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