We talk exclusively to Chris Nahon, director of Kiss Of The Dragon and the new live-action version of Blood: The Last Vampire, released Friday…

How did you become involved with making the live-action version of Blood: The Last Vampire?

I met the producer but at the time Ronny Yu had just been confirmed as director. I was surprised when the producer asked one year after if I wanted to direct Blood. I was a fan since the beginning and I accepted with no hesitations.

Had you seen the original Blood: The Last Vampire anime?

I’d had the DVD for year. It always been a reference for me.

What changes did you need to make to the original in order to recreate it as a full-length live-action movie?

Adding another dimension in order to develop more the character of Saya. We open a door on her past.

What was it like working with action director Corey Yuen again?

Working with an old friend reminded me of so much emotion from the making of Kiss of the Dragon. Him and his team are incredible – they are ready to jump from the window for you anytime!

Did you encounter any problems during the shooting of the film?

Directing is managing problems to drive your movie back on your track. If we can avoid accidents it’s the best that I can ask for because we took a lot of risks.

What was the best part about making this movie?

Having Gianna and Koyuki together. Doing action with women. I loved it!

Kiss Of The Dragon has been easily one of the best Jet Li vehicles made in the West (in my opinion at least!). How do you think you got it so right, and why do others get it so wrong?

It comes from the good communication between the production and the director. I have never been so free since that one.

You obviously enjoy making action movies, but do you plan to move into any other genres?

I have a lot of plans. I would like to work develop more and more emotions on my next projects. The studio or the production still have a lot to understand in term of action movies. Most of the time they separate the genres when one can help the other.

What are you working on next?

I have many projects… but I never talk about them until they are done. I am too much superstitious for that…! Cheers.

Blood: The Last Vampire is released on DVD and Blu-ray on 2 November by Pathé. You can win the DVD here…

Thanks to Chris Nahon, Pathé and Charlotte Mach from Substance for setting up the interview.

See the Guardian’s gallery guide to directors vying for the Palme d’Or »

A dazzling ode to neon lights, beautiful but as hollow as a glass tube…

Like many auteur Asian directors, Wong Kar-wai has long relied on funding from the west to make movies, so the inevitability of an English language debut must have long been on the cards. But did he have to make such a predictably hash job of it?

When Elizabeth (Norah Jones) finds out her boyfriend is cheating on her, she leaves his flat keys at a local cafe for him to collect. Making a regular rendezvous to check in with the owner, Jeremy (Jude Law), the two start to develop an odd connection, as Elizabeth tucks into leftover blueberry pie.

Realising she’s still not getting over her ex, she decides a life change is in order. She leaves town on a long journey around America in the hope of discovering herself, finding work where she can. Along the way she meets characters who themselves are lost: Arnie (David Strathairn) a Memphis cop with a self-destructive alcohol problem due to never getting over his wife leaving him; Leslie (Natalie Portman) a gambler who’s never reconciled with her father.

Eventually Elizabeth realises what she was really looking for wasn’t so far from where she began…

Working with crime novelist Lawrence Block, Wong Kar-wai’s script hardly allows its characters to breathe from the inane and unimaginative spouting of platitudes. They’re flat, predictable, and seem to have fallen out of a lesser romantic comedy from the 1980s. Of course, it’s typical of Kar-wai to use subtlety and implication rather than fill out his characters, and often that works well – but for that he relies heavily on the actors, and that’s where he came unstuck…

It’s not that Norah Jones is exactly terrible – she’s just nowhere near up to the job of supporting the movie, especially with the majority of additional input coming from Jude Law – who like most British actors always a lot more interesting when playing a cad – and Natalie Portman – who seems to have forgotten how to act now she’s grown up. It’s obvious that Kar-wai wanted a somewhat blank muse to reflect the characters she meets, only he got even less. Though to be fair, with a script like this even the most experienced actor would have trouble defining their role with so little.

Of course, Kar-wai would have been attracted to working with a pop star, in the same way he’s done with Hong Kong actors like Leslie Cheung, Jackie Cheung and Andy Lau in the past. The difference being that while in the East actors seem to make that transition seamlessly, and are often far better as actors – case in point the late Leslie Cheung, perhaps one of the most charismatic actors to have graced the screen this side of Johnny Depp – those in the West rarely make a good job of it.

It’s interesting that in her two minute cameo Chan Marshall, aka notoriously batty singer Cat Power, makes a far more beguiling and engaging appearance as Jeremy’s ex. Indeed, for those of us fortunate to have seen her often muddled live performances, she seems perfectly normal, an enormous acting feat. She even gets one more song on the soundtrack to Norah. Did Kar-wai miss a trick not casting her as the lead?

Elsewhere only David Strathairn truly shines as the fullest, most convincing and easily most affecting character in the film. The tedious overuse of slow-motion, a recurring technique for Kar-wai but never before used to this extent, belies a truth that the scenes lacked poignancy without it, that the performances just don’t connect to the audience in the way he would have wanted them to. As with 2046, Kar-wai never seems completely happy with his movies, cutting an extra 13 minutes after the lukewarm reception it received from critics when it opened the Cannes Film Festival.

The soundtrack, too, seems rather repetitive considering the involvement of Ry Cooder, as one song becomes the soundtrack to each vignette. And please, Otis Redding’s ‘Try A Little Tenderness’ for the heartbroken cop in Memphis? We all love Otis, but you might expect that Ry, having just worked with Mavis Staples could have been a little more imaginative. Perhaps even James Carr’s ‘Dark End Of The Street’?

The gloss and shine of neon lights filter nearly ever scene from the movie – of course Elizabeth would end up in Las Vegas, isn’t that what the films being leading up to? The home of bright, neon signs, and just as hollow as she seems to be. For one of Kar-wai’s few films without the award-winning cinematographer Chris Doyle on board, Darius Khondji is respectable replacement, even if his vision adds to a more optimistic vision than we’ve seen before, something strangely anomalous in a Kar-wai film.

Indeed, the film even has a happy ending – what? – rather than the more emotional, heart-rending conclusion we’re used to from Kar-wai where his leads never quite get to together (because they’ve left it too late, or they’re dead, or whatever). The result is something of a Wong Kar-wai lite, distilled from familiar themes but totally lacking in their original poignancy.

That’s not to say the director hasn’t kept his tendency to continually refer to his own work. According to Kar-wai himself, the initial idea came out of a scene scraped from his classic In The Mood For Love which would have cast his leads Tony Leung and Maggie Cheung in a contemporary café, which eventually became a short film of it’s own.

My honest opinion? Go see In The Mood For Love.

Even if you’ve seen it before…

My Blueberry Nights is released on DVD in the UK today.

An introduction to the work of director Tsai Ming-liang, both beautiful and confrontational. We look at I Don’t Want To Sleep Alone, The Wayward Cloud and Goodbye Dragon Inn. Just don’t expect a lot of dialogue…

From it’s opening scene, I Don’t Want To Sleep Alone is typically a Tsai Ming-liang film, only more so…

A ghettoblaster plays opera, while a paralysed man can only listen. The camera lingers for an uncomfortable amount of time, Tsai trademark style, forcing you to stare at this poor man. And stare. And stare. And unlike in real life, you can’t turn away. It’s the sort of confrontation with his audience that Tsai seems to enjoy.

There’s a disconnection, a distance between you and his creations that echoes the same disconnection his lead characters often have within their own worlds and lives. Little is ever said. In fact, that again is typically Tsai.

A poetical film, I Don’t Want To Sleep Alone shows us two men, both played by frequent collaborator Lee Kang-Sheng. One the son of a coffee shop owner, completely paralysed and looked after by his beleaguered carer Chyi (Chen Siang Chyi), the other Hsiao-Kang, an immigrant who is beaten and left for dead on the streets.

The implication is that one is dreaming the other. The beaten man is found and nursed back to health by another immigrant, Rawang (Norman Bin Atun) who still returns to the shell of a building he was involved in constructing, despite the work having been long abandoned. Kang soon falls for Chyi, unaware that his own carer Rawang has begun to develop feelings for him.

The directors’ characteristic lack of dialogue -which underlines his own ongoing agenda to compel his audience to ‘watch’ his movies, rather than be told their plotline -finds new meaning in a world where his protagonists are unable to communicate in words to each other. In a fast cut world, Tsai enjoys a leasiurely pace all but unheard of now.

It’s well known that Tsai Ming-liang toned down some of his initial ideas when he cast a Muslim in the role of Rawang, but the resulting fact subjectivity only adds power and tension to that attraction.

With a masterly eye for composition, giving an impression of control both over his cast and their environment, and how he wants his audience to fell. It’s ironic, then, that the most iconic scene in the film, where the butterfly lands on the lead characters shoulder, then flies off again, used a real and quite unpredictable butterfly. (After a long day filming hundreds of live butterflies!) The result is quite the most beautiful scene you might see in cinema this year.

It also features one of the funniest sex scenes you might see , as Chyi and Kang attempt to make out against the smog filled streets of Malaysia, their only vaguely protective surgical masks becoming obvious obstacles to their goal.

But then Tsai seems to find a lot of humour in the act of sex itself, even though he never shies away from candid, controversial and often quite explicit scenes – and The Wayward Cloud is one heck of a good example of that.

With Taiwan in the midst of a water shortage, the public are told to drink watermelon juice. Shiang-Chyi is secretly bottling water from public toilets in plastic bottles. Quite by chance she meets Hsiao-Kang, who she once bought a watch from when he was a street vendor, and a romance – of a sort – blossoms between them.

What she doesn’t realise is that he has quite a successful career now as a porn star, working in an apartment upstairs from her.

Despite its relatively explicit sex scenes, Wayward Cloud is perhaps one of Tsai’s most accessible movies. It’s a great introduction to his work, with the narrative interjected by fun lip synced dance routines to Taiwanese pop songs from the 50s and 60s, their innocent lyrics given new meanings.

Some of the biggest laughs in the movie come from the sex scenes from the porn movies filmed upstairs: from the first scene featuring a watermelon, to a shower scene faked due to the draught with bottled water (and then when they run out, who knows where it came from?), to Japanese porn actress who ‘losing’ a bottle cap.

Yet this tone dramatically changes when Chyi finds the Japanese actress unconscious in a lift, ultimately exposing Kang’s career. Having tried unsuccessfully to wake her, the Adult filmmakers decide they should get ‘back to work’, whether the actress is conscious or not. Their attitude is shown as grotesque, literally treating another human being like a piece of meat.

Tsai film is a eulogy for love in the 21st century, when anything can be bought, but strangely Kang cannot share the same sexual intimacy with Chyi as he does with his on film partners. Are love and sex truly different things, he asks?

Sexual relations also take a twisted form in Tsai’s Goodbye Dragon Inn, about the final performance at a cinema frequented by gay cruisers and ghosts. The box office girl pines for the projectionist, once again both leading seemingly solitary existences – a common thread to Tsai’s work.

Against the backdrop of an old wuxia movie – King Hu’s Dragon Inn – the director pays tribute to a dying for communal theatre going, and the sort of films that where once seen there.

There’s more than a slight comparison to be made with fellow Taiwanese filmmaker Ang Lee. Lee may have catapulted himself into the US mainstream with Jane Austin and Marvel comic adaptations (indeed his output was always mainstream, even when dealing with tricky subject matter), but has used this to give hive him greater freedom in his other work, especially his latest film Lust, Caution. But perhaps the nearest similarity is with Hong Kong filmmaker Wong Kar-wai, whose repeating of themes and characters mirror that of Tsai.

Tsai’s work demands much from its audience. He deliberately makes his films sometimes uncomfortable, sometimes confrontational, but often funny and always rewarding. And with the recent season at the BFI Southbank, he’s finally getting the recognition he deserves in the UK.