The first segment, titled A Time for Love, is set in 1966. We are in a billiard hall in Kaohsiung. Chang Chen plays Chen, a conscript on leave. Shu Qi plays May, a young woman who works at the pool hall.
Why a pool hall? Because in Hou’s Taiwan of the 1960s, young people were in transition—between Japanese colonialism and martial law, between tradition and modernity. The billiard table becomes a metaphor: balls click, pockets swallow, but the game resets. The lovers circle each other like players, afraid to make the final shot.
By the end of the segment, Chen has returned to the army. May sends him a letter that arrives too late. The final shot is a long take of a bus driving away down a dirt road. We do not see faces. We see only dust.
Key takeaway: In this first "time," Hou shows us that love in the 1960s was a whispered secret—visible only in sideways glances and the lonely sound of a train passing at night. three times hou hsiao hsien
There is a hidden fourth layer to Three Times that few critics discuss. In the final minutes of the 2005 segment, Zhang picks up a guitar and plays a song—the same melody that played on the radio in 1966. Jing, lying next to him, does not recognize it. She scrolls through her phone.
That melody is the ghost that connects all three stories. It is the sound of Hou Hsiao-hsien’s own memory of Taiwan—an island that has been colonized, militarized, modernized, and forgotten. The melody says: We were once here. We touched. We left.
Three Times is not a film about three love stories. It is a film about one love story, repeated forever, in different costumes. And that is the real keyword: three times Hou Hsiao-hsien is not three different directors. It is the same patient, melancholic poet, watching the same two souls fail to meet, across a hundred years, across a single breath. The first segment, titled A Time for Love , is set in 1966
Watch it. Then watch it again. Then ask yourself: Which time are you living in right now?
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"Three times Hou Hsiao Hsien: A Cinematic Odyssey There is a hidden fourth layer to Three
In the realm of Taiwanese New Wave cinema, one name stands out: Hou Hsiao Hsien. Three films, each a masterclass in storytelling, showcase the director's innovative spirit and poetic vision.
'A Summer's Snow' (1983), Hou's seventh feature, marks a turning point in his career. This deceptively simple tale of a young girl's journey through a snow-covered landscape explores themes of isolation and disconnection. Shot in stunning monochrome, the film mesmerizes with its tranquil pace and attention to detail.
Next, 'A Time to Kill' (1989) propels Hou into the international spotlight. A poignant exploration of youthful rebellion and social constraint, set against the backdrop of 1960s Taiwan, earned the film the Golden Leopard at the 1989 Locarno International Film Festival.
Lastly, 'The Puppetmaster' (1993) cements Hou's reputation as a cinematic poet. Based on the life of Li Pi-Hua, a renowned Taiwanese puppeteer, the film deconstructs the boundaries between reality and performance. Rich in texture and visual metaphor, 'The Puppetmaster' won the 1994 Best Director award at Cannes.
Three films, distinct yet interconnected, reveal Hou Hsiao Hsien's unique preoccupations: the fragility of human relationships, the tension between tradition and modernity, and the expressive potential of cinema itself. For those willing to immerse themselves in Hou's contemplative world, a rich cinematic odyssey awaits."