The Assassin (2015)

This might have the least action of any martial arts film ever. The fight scenes are few, and quite short. I think you need to know what you're walking into, because if you're expecting an adrenaline-filled violent movie (it is bloodless), you're not going to get it here--but that doesn't detract from the artistry of Hou Hsiao-Hsien. The film opens with three black-and-white vignettes, beautifully paced, introducing us to Yinniang. It only gets slower from there. It's a slow burn. You are given time to appreciate the scenery, the absolutely stunning camerawork by Mark Lee Ping-Bin. Every frame is so carefully crafted. There are often frames within frames, obstructed views. The action often takes place in the background, with a veil over the foreground. The camera is very still, it lingers for longer than it has to. But each shot is composed to leave room in the background for ongoing movement in the scene. I admit I did not follow the story. I got it all in the first half, but then it started to lose me. But frankly, it doesn't really matter. You get the major plot points, but it's not about plot, and it's not about action. So what is it about? It's about conveying mood and beauty through visuals, and in that it succeeds. 

In the Mood for Love (2000)

I'm in such awe of this movie. I don't think I have the capacity to describe how beautiful this movie is, everything about it from the music to the acting to the reds and the incredible cinematography. So I'm not even going to try. It would be a disservice to the film. Maybe I'm just chickening out from expressing my feelings cause I'm some emotional wreck now having watched this movie. But I would like to revisit this one down the road when I'm older and have lived and experienced more. I think it will have profoundly different meaning. 

The Puppetmaster (1993)

The Puppetmaster is a gorgeous epic tale. It is an extraordinary tale, that is unbelievably autobiographical. Li Tian-lu, master puppeteer, narrates his own life story as an artist living under the Japanese occupation of Taiwan. Periodically, we cut to talking head interviews with the aging Li that give his story an air of authenticity like a documentary. The scenes typically start in the moment and we watch history unfold. Meanwhile, a narrator tells the audience what is occurring (it is difficult to tell who is speaking, whether it is someone inside the frame, someone outside the frame, or more often the narrator) while we see a slight variation on screen. The movie provokes questions about history versus memory.

The cinematography is absolutely gorgeous. Interior doors and walls create a framing device within the frame of the camera such that we only see a fraction of the action. The characters move in and out of the frame as if life exceeds the boundaries of the film, and we are just observing it. We are reminded of this in the mesmerizing puppet scenes, in which the focus is not simply what we see on stage but also the characters acting and viewing the show. When we do see people on screen, they are always occupied with something, as if they were standing on stage exposed to the audience doing choreography. The movie is characterized by long master takes (vignettes) beginning with a fade-in and ending with a fade-out filmed by a single still camera. When the camera does move in rare circumstances, it is striking.The wide shots of the Taiwanese countryside are beautiful with small silhouettes of working people accentuating the scenery.

The music is also notable, including both traditional Chinese instruments and western style epic soundtracks. And Li has a sense of humor that is actually quite funny though sometimes the movie is a little slow. It is a heartwarming story about an artist who mastered his craft told in a greater historical context.