Tsai Ming-liang's 'Dust': A Slow Walk Through Time and Space

Walking Through Silence

When you think of cinema that challenges the status quo, Tsai Ming-liang's latest offering, Dust, might not be what comes to mind. This isn't a story with a beginning, middle, and end. It's a visual poem, a quiet rebellion against our fast-paced world. And at its heart is Lee Kang-sheng, walking.

But not just any walk—this is the Walker series, a project that began in 2012, where Lee becomes an instrument for capturing how cities breathe, how light falls on stone, and how time moves through the human body. In Dust, his slow gait traces a path through San Sebastian, Spain, where the city itself seems to whisper its secrets to him.

"The way he walks is extraordinarily beautiful, and the idea of 'slowness' itself has great power," Tsai says. "Slowness may simply be a method: it allows you to become quiet, to really look and to feel."

The Art of Stillness

What strikes me most about Dust is how Tsai uses slowness not just as a technique but as a form of resistance. In an age where our screens demand our attention, where every moment is a potential notification or distraction, Tsai's films invite us to slow down—really slow down. He's not interested in storytelling; he's interested in experiencing.

The narrative of the film is minimal, almost non-existent. It's more like an essay on presence, on how we can find meaning in the mundane, in a monk's barefoot journey through urban landscapes. Tsai's camera lingers on Lee's red robe as it catches sunlight and shadow—no dialogue, no plot twist, just a man walking through time.

A Life Measured in Steps

Lee Kang-sheng isn't just an actor; he's been the physical embodiment of Tsai's artistic vision for over 30 years. The series isn't just about cities—it's about aging, transformation, and the quiet dignity that comes with long-term collaboration.

"We have watched Lee Kang-Sheng's body, appearance, and even his skin change," Tsai reflects. "Only through looking at someone over a long period of time can the reality of a life be fully revealed." This isn't just about filmography; it's about the passage of time as an artistic medium.

Rebellion Through Stillness

In many ways, Dust is a rebellion—not against cinema itself, but against our expectations of what cinema should be. Tsai challenges the very definition of narrative filmmaking by offering something that defies categorization. It's not documentary, it's not fiction, and yet it's deeply cinematic.

This approach has made him something of an iconoclast in a medium that often rewards spectacle over substance. But his work is far from obscure—his films are screened globally, and audiences are hungry for what Tsai offers. "My films are screened in cities all over the world, and I have found that more and more young people are coming to see them," he notes.

Legacy and Future

With this film, Tsai returns to Venice—where his first major work, Vive L'Amour, won a Golden Lion in 1994. Yet here we are, with a very different film, one that challenges the traditional narrative arc.

He frames the distance between his early and current works not as a rupture but as an ongoing argument with cinema itself. "I have never stopped making films," he insists. "I have been searching for the possibilities of cinema: what else can cinema express, besides telling stories?"

What's fascinating is how Tsai's vision has evolved—not through complexity or spectacle, but through a deeper understanding of what cinema can be when stripped of its conventional forms.

The Next Chapter

The Walker series isn't done yet. Tsai plans to continue his journey with Lee in Jeonju, Korea—a trip that's already been invited by the Jeonju International Film Festival. As for when it will end? "I think it will end only when either Lee Kang-Sheng or I am no longer here," he says.

There's something poetic about that ending. It suggests a legacy not built on fame or awards, but on the quiet persistence of two artists who have spent decades walking through life together. As for what's next for Tsai? "I am getting older now, and I do not have the same energy I once had," he admits. "But the one thing I still very much hope to do is to work once more with all the actors I have collaborated with over the years. Perhaps I will make one more narrative film that is not really a narrative film." It's an intriguing promise—a reminder that for Tsai, cinema is always about discovery, never about complacency.