Highly Overrated But Still Good

Best movie of this year hands down!

The film creates a perfect balance between action and depth of basic needs, in the midst of an infertile atmosphere.

It's the kind of movie you'll want to see a second time with someone who hasn't seen it yet, to remember what it was like to watch it for the first time.

The first part is very nice - the more I think about it, the more I like it. The eye contacts and body language of Shu Qi and Zhang Zhen (esp. Shu Qi's eagerness, her excitement, curiosity,etc.), their silliness, not knowing what to do/say - all impress me. Not quite because of the acting, but the description of the innocence per se. It is a very genuine description of something that I am not sure if it still exists anymore nowadays. It is also delightful to hear the song Rain And Tears in the movie(The song mentioned in Zhang Zhen's letter to Shu Qi). Part Two would be good if it was not a silent movie. I don't see any GOOD reason for that. Part Three - the only reason I can think of for adding this part in the movie is to suggest that all the good can only be found in the past. Otherwise, not only does the third part do no good to the film, it tremendously ruins it.

Three Times tells three unconnected love stories in Taiwan in 1966, 1911, and 2005, with the lovers played each time by Chang Chen and the gorgeous Shu Qi.1966 is a charming, exquisitely-realized romance. On brief days of leave from military service, Chang insouciantly woos Shu over a game of pool, and then pursues her in small- town pool halls across Taiwan. 1911 is silent, with inter-titles for formalized dialogue. Chang is a wealthy young reformer meeting Shu as a courtesan in her room in a large Japanese house, between excursions with the great scholar and politician Liang Qichao. In 2005, Shu has a jilted girlfriend as well as photographer Chang, and sings in dark underground clubs in Taipei. Shu is damaged physically and emotionally, and self-consciously alienated from meaning in her life.Three Times is unmistakably Hou, with long static takes and minimal dialogue. It is beautifully shot with framed compositions which return like motifs through each section, and he makes the most of his photogenic actors.In 1911, Chang writes to Shu to tell her he is leaving for Shanghai and he may never return, his reforming ideals falling before the courtesan who he is unwilling to save. In that moment, Three Times becomes national allegory, and Shu Qi is Taiwan herself, abandoned by China and its hypocrisies. Hou is writing her history as a continuous narrative across the Japanese colonial period, the KMT era and the present. As an allegory, Three Times becomes Hou's personal and critical view of Taiwan. After being left to her fate, she returns steeped in nostalgia in the 1960s with freshness, charm, and captivating beauty. But by 2005, she is fractured, cynical, materialistic, and tragically lost in her modernity.Three Times' elegiac presentation of the 1960s, when Taiwan was an authoritarian state under martial law, makes it very particular critique and sure to irk those who would write that period differently. But as Taiwan struggles through its current crisis of confidence, Hou's film is a timely and harsh commentary, and its wholly ambiguous and uneasy ending suits the moment.

Taiwan, 1966. A time for love and romance, a time for dreamers. Dreamers like Chen, making his own motorbike sounds when he's on his bicycle, on his way to the pool bar where he always hangs out. He writes romantic letters to the girl who works there, and comes to see her one last time before joining the army. The young lady who works there tells him she's sorry, the girl isn't there, she's on her way to the station. A long silence follows. But… what is your name, Chen asks her. Her name is May.Chen writes romantic letters to May, and comes back to the pool bar to meet her on his one day leave. May isn't here, the new young lady who works there tells him. A long silence follows. But…. do you know where I can find her, Chen asks her.1966 is the time of true love and real romance, director Hou Hsiao Hsien tells us. With the Platters playing their soulful jukebox romance in the background, Chen and May slowly and carefully approach each other, in little words and subtle movements. The way May puts an ashtray on the side of the pool table while Chen is aiming for his shot with a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, and the way Chen moves it away for May when it's her turn, it's just the little things that show the power of understanding, in a language without words. Romance under high voltage, where every moment they almost physically touch raises the intensity higher and higher.How different is the Taiwan occupied by Japan in 1911. A time for freedom? Surely not for the courtesan whose fate seems to be controlled by everyone but her. By the madam who rules the brothel where she works. By Ah Mei who would replace her as the top courtesan in time, but who gets pregnant and gets bought away by the father of her child to become one of his concubines. And by Mr Chang, who goes against his principles against keeping concubines, and closes the financial gap in the deal about Ah Mei's becoming one. He seems to do this out of love for the top courtesan, but all it achieves is that he prevents her liberty. Did he even think about that? A question that remains unanswered. All feelings remain unspoken in the Taiwan of 1911, which is stressed by the way this part is filmed as a silent movie, with inter-text pages for the dialogue. The only voice we hear is that of the musician, pointing out with her classical Asian songs that there is reality to this world.There isn't much reality to the Taipei of 2005. A time for youth? There's not a moment of piece for the youth in this rushed capital of Taiwan, where everyone is communicating like mad, and where you need a damn good explanation if your cell phone remained unanswered for a couple of hours. This world is as exhibitionist as it is rushed, every emotion is out on the streets and larger than life. Here, shyness only begins after intercourse. A world gone insane, ending on the back of the motorbike of your one week boyfriend, because your girlfriend just text messaged you about killing herself. A passionless choice for a temporary boyfriend, for lack of better options. At the moment.It is clear that Hou Hsiao Hsien sees true love in 1966, romanticizing it as much as possible. This way, the sixties are not only the time for love, but also the time for freedom, where people aren't ruled by traditions and formalities, aren't choked by time, stress and friends. And it also seems to be the time for youth, because back then, they could listen to their true feelings and go after their real passion. The youth of today? They show a flood of feelings and emotions, but were born with a hole in their hearts. Unspoken or flooded emotions, both lack true meaning. Between those two, there's a subtle world of difference.

This film is a darling of the critics. Roger Ebert gave it four stars; A. O. Scott of the NY Times describes it, on the DVD's box, as "a masterpiece," adding, "this is why cinema exists." That being the case, if you are, or aspire to be, a devotee of cinema, then this film may be required viewing. But if your sensibilities run toward (mere) movies, beware.The film, set in Taiwan and China, depicts three love stories -- set in three historical periods: 1911, 1966, and 2005 -- using the same actor and actress. The problem, simply put, is that "Three Times" moves at a glacial pace and little happens. As one of the few critics not to wax euphoric put it, "if this movie moved any slower it could qualify as a photograph." When each segment ended, and when the final credits rolled, the question plaintively asked by Peggy Lee came to mind: Is that all there is?