I’m sure for many it’s been quite some time since we’ve been able to step foot into a cinema of any kind. A sad shame, but we can replicate the experience at home somewhat. For me, I put a Bluetooth speaker behind me that plays people loudly whispering for two hours. There was a time when we’d be able to experience this without such artificial frivolities, and Tsai Ming-Liang looks to do so with style. Goodbye, Dragon Inn looks to take us back to the late 1960s, the early days of martial arts glory years but also presents the sad realities of the modern era. A jarring film that provides love and acceptance for an industry that feels like it’s on its last legs, and has been for nearly sixty years.
Our opening moments with Ming-Liang’s film provide a literal peek behind the curtain, into the home of cinema. Methodical, slow, it amazes me that Ming-Liang’s feature here can operate such compelling, lengthy scenes in such a short running time. He spends a good chunk of his time musing on the quieter moments, the annoying characters you see from time to time, lingering in the back corner of some dingy cinema with broken seats and cruddy lighting. He also has time to, quite literally, follow our characters in their mundane moments. Shuffling in and around the hallways behind the screen never looked so beautiful. It’s a testament to the abilities of his direction and hardworking craft, but his affection for the mundane moments make for a stark contrast with the otherworldly films that appear on the screen, and the beautiful experiences cinema has brought us.
Encapsulating the feel of film and the emotional variety it captures, it’s a beautiful swan song for a fictional picture house, and an encroaching feeling of reality now lies on top of its achingly well-crafted style.
GOODBYE DRAGON INN
There’s something rather poignant in the way Ming-Liang’s framing works. Martial arts films displayed in such tremendous prominence, our characters travelling in and around the theatre, a near-wordless display from everyone, the stars on screen have more time to talk than those watching from the decaying rows of velvet-clad seats. We as an audience are meant to find solace in these moments, and I do think Ming-Liang manages to bring out some feeling of emotion for these moments. Humorous happenings blended with the stark realities of missing that punch an audience can bring. For those that connect with Goodbye, Dragon Inn, it’ll no doubt conjure up some lovely memories that your mind has tucked away. It did for me, anyway.
My experience with Second Run remastering’s smacked of professional stylings and dedication in bringing the best out of these prints. Goodbye, Dragon Inn looks marvellous, it captures the echoed silence of a near-empty cinema. Heaven knows I’ve experienced the deafening silence of a soulless screening room from time to time, but this transfer from Second Run captures the beauty in that sadness. Sometimes watching a film alone in a large room is a frighteningly grand experience. Goodbye, Dragon Inn also features a solid setlist of extra features including Madam Butterfly, a short film from Ming-Liang, and a great booklet from critic Tony Rayns.
We come together with film, that much is true. But there’s something special about seeing a film alone in a cinema, although it is a tragic statement on how poor the industry is doing. Cinema closures are frequent, with the number of independent movie houses dwindling year on year. Goodbye, Dragon Inn is a glimpse into that but from a different age entirely. A touching, truly moving piece that studies the characters with care and just a dash of pity. Encapsulating the feel of film and the emotional variety it captures, it’s a beautiful swan song for a fictional picture house, and an encroaching feeling of reality now lies on top of its achingly well-crafted style.
GOODBYE DRAGON INN IS OUT ON SECOND RUN BLU-RAY
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