lovers and caretakers
by Douglas Messerli
Tsai
Ming-liang (screenwriter and director) 黑眼圈 (Hēiyǎnquān) (I Don’t Want to Sleep Alone) / 2006
Tsai Ming-liang’s 2006 film I Don’t Want to
Sleep Alone is only tangentially a gay film. The major subject of this
tender work is, in fact, are the caregivers who gently look after their
near-dead and dying patients, a young homeless day laborer who cannot even
speak the language of the country, Malaysia, to which he has moved (played by
Lee Kang-sheng) and a paralyzed and brain-dead patient (also performed by Lee).
Their caretakers are another unemployed day laborer, Rawang (Norman Atun) and
the former maid/now a night waitress of the “Paralyzed Man’s” mother— whom some
sources identify as the figure who abused him and mysteriously is responsible
for his current condition.
Tony Rayns, in my always useful Time Out Film guide, argues that
they are one and the same, the “Paralyzed Man” (as he is identified in the
credits) dreaming of the other figure. I’d argue against that, since each of
the Lee figures have slightly different trajectories, even if they often cross
over. I’d rather suggest that Tsai has represented them as mirror images of
those who care for and come to intensely love their patients.
In
the film’s earliest scenes, we observe a Malay street preacher promising the
crowd of young and dreaming men surrounding him with the promise of money—if
only they will pay him the small sums they hold in their wallets. How these
needy Kuala Lumpur workers could possibly believe in his scam, that he will
provide them with secret numbers which will suddenly provide them with great
wealth, is a bit hard to believe. But all of them are desperate to return home
or simply find enough money in order to eat, like our young hero, that they need
to believe. They might be described as the true believers of great
tribulations, people who have suffered so deeply in their lives that they
cannot afford not to believe anything another person promises them.
The “Homeless Day Laborer” strings along with the others, but when it
comes to paying, the scam-man’s partners discover he has absolutely no money on
his body, punishing him by nearly beating him to death.
They lay out the dying body and ply him with a home-made medicine from their probably also looted refrigerator. It seems not to matter whether this is the right medicine for the boy they’ve taken into their lives. If nothing else, it startles him back into living.
The
next morning, we observe Rawang attempting to wash the new mattress from its
previous filth while, suddenly observing the still weak boy he has discovered
attempting to leave the Escher-like building, who he quickly retrieves,
lovingly wiping his ass, and helping to allow him to urinate. It is the most
sexual moment in this film, but one recognizes almost immediately that he is
also attracted to the boy he is caring for. Before long they are sharing the mattress,
while Rawang attempts to lower the boy’s fever with the cold liquid we have
earlier seen him drinking, his very sustenance being used to help his young
patient.
Just as the collective building dwellers fear to reveal the existence of
their new-found friend to their Chinese landlord, a woman who evidently charges
them small fees for living in the uncompleted high-rise, so too is the maid
(Chen Shiang-chyi) fearful of the family whom she once served, who enter her
space in an attempt to sell it.
So
has the director quietly revealed the situations in the Malaysian capital of
those who are rather wealthy and those who have absolutely nothing. Yet, this
is not truly a Marxist film, but a story about those who care and love and
those who don’t, locked into a world, as Rayns argues, of Tsai’s often-employed
images of “holes, water, and sickness.” And also, in this film, a smog that is
so overwhelming that it even chokes off Rawang’s eventual attempt to finally
show his love of the young boy he has saved.
When he eventually discovers that his young would-be lover has been
sneaking out most evenings to have sex with the maid/waitress, and that the boy
now wants to move in with her carrying with him the bug-infested mattress, he
falls into a temporary rage, threatening the handsome young man with an opened
tin-can lid. His anger, however, quickly resolves itself into tears, which the
young boy wipes away with his tongue—evidence certainly that he too has
feelings for Rawang.
Tsai, living for many years in Taiwan, returned to his native Malaysia
to make this film, but was told it could be shown there if it were highly
censored. He edited it severely; so sadly, that country missed out in a
gloriously beautiful tale of the true giving-powers of empathic love.
Tsai appears to suggest that love is not about sex or power, but about
saving and caring for another. These three deserve to ecstatically come
together from the heavens to reveal their lessons, even if in the hovels in
which they must live they cannot find the ability to express what they have
miraculously accomplished.
Los Angeles, December 28, 2019
Reprinted from World Cinema Review (December
2019).




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