How can we qualify slowness in cinema? What is the relationship between a cinema of slowness and a wider socio-cultural “slow movement”? A body of films that shares a propensity toward slowness has emerged in many parts of the world over the past two decades. This is the first book to examine the concept of cinematic slowness and address this fascinating phenomenon in contemporary film culture. Providing a critical investigation into questions of temporality, materiality, and aesthetics, and examining concepts of authorship, cinephilia, and nostalgia, Song Hwee Lim offers insight into cinematic slowness through the films of the Malaysian-born, Taiwan-based director Tsai Ming-liang. Through detailed analysis of aspects of stillness and silence in cinema, Lim delineates the strategies by which slowness in film can be constructed. By drawing on writings on cinephilia and the films of directors such as Abbas Kiarostami, Hou Hsiao-hsien, and Nuri Bilge Ceylan, he makes a passionate case for a slow cinema that calls for renewed attention to the image and to the experience of time in film. Tsai Ming-liang and a Cinema of Slowness will speak to readers with an interest in art cinema, queer studies, East Asian culture, and the question of time. In an age of unrelenting acceleration of pace both in film and in life, this book invites us to pause and listen, to linger and look, and, above all, to take things slowly.

The first in-depth study of filmmaker Tsai Ming-liang's sensual and solitary universe. Acclaimed Taiwan-based filmmaker Tsai Ming-liang is renowned for creating some of the most nihilistic and erotic films of the 1990s. His films often use water in its multiple capacities--cleansing, raining, nourishing, flooding--to symbolize his character's emotions. Depicting the human body as a mysterious, malleable machine consuming and excreting on its own volition, he turns bodily functions into metaphors for loneliness, desire, decay, and escape. His obsessive and isolated characters give his films a bleak outlook, but they also embody a wry sense of absurdist humor. Taiwanese filmmaker Tsai Ming-liang (born 1957) has directed a dozen full-length films, inlcluding Rebels of Neon God, Vive l'Amour (Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival, 1994), The River (Silver Bear at the Berlin Film Festival, 1997), The Hole, The Wayward Cloud, Face and Stray Dogs (Silver Lion at the Venice Film Festival, 2013). In 2013, Tsai was voted by UK newspaper The Guardian as number 18 of the 40 best directors in the world.

A brilliant approach to the queerness of one of Taiwan’s greatest auteurs A critical figure in queer Sinophone cinema—and the first director ever commissioned to create a film for the permanent collection of the Louvre—Tsai Ming-liang is a major force in Taiwan cinema and global moving image art. Cruisy, Sleepy, Melancholy offers a fascinating, systematic method for analyzing the queerness of Tsai’s films. Nicholas de Villiers argues that Tsai expands and revises the notion of queerness by engaging with the sexuality of characters who are migrants, tourists, diasporic, or otherwise displaced. Through their lack of fixed identities, these characters offer a clear challenge to the binary division between heterosexuality and homosexuality, as well as the Orientalist binary division of Asia versus the West. Ultimately, de Villiers explores how Tsai’s films help us understand queerness in terms of spatial, temporal, and sexual disorientation. Conceiving of Tsai’s cinema as an intertextual network, Cruisy, Sleepy, Melancholy makes an important addition to scholarly work on Tsai in English. It draws on extensive interviews with the director, while also offering a complete reappraisal of Tsai’s body of work. Contributing to queer film theory and the aesthetics of displacement, Cruisy, Sleepy, Melancholy reveals striking connections between sexuality, space, and cinema.

The year 2003 marked the fiftieth anniversary of James Watson's and Francis Crick's discovery of the structure of DNA, which began a revolution in the biological sciences and radically altered the way humans view life and themselves. In this poetic account Erwin Fleissner, an eminent cancer researcher and teacher, offers a personal and professional reflection on the most significant developments in molecular genetics and cell biology over the past fifty years. Vital Harmonies is a sweeping look at these crucial scientific advances and an insider's perspective on what scientists have actually learned from them. Contrasting the humanistic side of scientific research with more deterministic or "mechanical" explanations of life processes, Fleissner discusses everything from natural selection to the tradition of rational inquiry stemming from the Enlightenment. He goes on to describe the structures of macromolecules and their "organizing" principles as well as cancer genes, stem cells, and the Human Genome Project. He also explores neuronal cells and the emergence of consciousness and how biological evolution is the foundation of our personal reality as well as our global responsibility. Fleissner asserts that scientific investigations cannot negate our essential "humanness" nor should the public fear them. Taking an optimistic perspective, he argues that a deeper knowledge of ourselves as biological entities will provide us, ultimately, with greater health, serenity, and self-knowledge. Vital Harmonies gives readers, whatever their background, an engaging analysis of some of the most important questions facing humanity today.

This book discusses slow cinema, a contemporary global production trend that has recently gained momentum in film theory and criticism. Slow films dispense with narrative progression in favour of a contemplative mood, which is stretched out to the extreme in order to impel viewers to confront cinematic temporality in all its undivided glory. Despite its critical reputation as an oblique mode of film practice, slow cinema continues to attract, challenge and provoke audiences. Focusing on filmmakers Béla Tarr, Tsai Ming-liang and Nuri Bilge Ceylan, this book identifies nostalgia, absurd humour and boredom as intrinsic dimensions of slow cinema and explores the ways in which these directors negotiate local filmmaking conventions with the demands of a global cinephile niche. As the first study to treat slow cinema both as an aesthetic style and as an institutional discourse, Poetics of Slow Cinema offers an illuminating perspective on the tradition’s historical genealogy and envisions it with a Janus-faced disposition in the age of digital technologies—lamenting at once the passing of difficult, ambiguous modernist film and capitalizing on the yearning for its absence.

Ma offers an innovative study of three provocative Chinese directors: Wong Kar-wai, Hou Hsiao-hsien, and Tsai Ming-liang. Focusing on the highly stylized and monlinear configurations of time in each director's films, she argues that these dirctors have brought new global respect for Chinese cinema in amplifying motifs of loss, nostalgia, hauntin, absence and ephemeral poetices Hou, Tsai, and Wong all isist on the significance of being out of time, not merely out of place, as a condition of global modernity. Ma argues that their films collectively foreground the central place of contemporary Chinese films in a transnational culture of memory, characterized by a distinctive melancholy that highlights the difficulty of binding together past and present into a meaningful narrative. Jean Ma is assistant professor in the Department of Art and Art History at Stanford University Melancholy Drift rides the films of three Chinese auteurs right into the heart of its subject, the mismatch between private feeling and collective history. These crucial films, set carefully beside one another, begin to pulse anew under the deft touch of Jean Ma's analyses. Drawing on a deep reservoir of historical and critical knowledge, she helps us hear these films speak of our times, then speak of time itself and of its dislocations---Dudley Andrew, Yale University Theoretically sophisticated and elegantly written, Melancholy Drift elucidates the subject of cinematic time in its various configurations: as a response to historical ruptures and political upheavals as representational politics, and as a reinvention of the art cinema. This book is a timely demonstration of the key roles played by Chinese auteurs in shaping the new face of world cinema today and an important contribution to scholarship both within and beyond the field of transnational Chinese cinemas---Song Hwee Lim, University of Exeter