Three-part anthology film, with individual pieces by Wong Kar-wai, Steven Soderbergh, and the nonagenarian Michelangelo Antonioni: "The Hand," "Equilibrium," and "The Dangerous Thread of Things," in order. Only one of the pieces is a keeper. The first one. The one that provides a full and satisfying moviegoing experience and leaves nothing to be desired. The one that's a meal in itself. The one that can stand alone. The Wong. At a shade over forty-three minutes, it is easily the longest of the three segments. It is precisely as long as it needs to be. (Whereas his Chungking Express and Fallen Angels needed to braid together more than one storyline in order to reach the requisite feature-length.) It is as long, give or take, as Sherlock Jr. or Zero for Conduct or Simon of the Desert. It is a thing of beauty: not so much a story as a tone poem, or mood piece, on the enduring professional relationship of an inhibited tailor and a high-priced courtesan (the beauteous and sensuous Gong Li) whom he custom-fits in her finery, and who develops a Camille-like cough over time, and gravitates to the gutter. From the torrential rain of the opening shot to the elliptical time line and the Sixties period and the sliceable atmosphere of amorous longing, this is Wong's private universe. And the explicit modiste subject matter authorizes, if you please, the further elaboration of the dress fetish of In the Mood for Love, and rationalizes the filmmaker's hypersensitivity to fabric, pattern, texture, all captured in the blotted color of a Degas pastel, temperate greens, grays, browns. The two ensuing segments may drag down the film. That is, they may drag down Eros. But they don't dirty "The Hand." "The Hand" is untouched. With Chang Chen, Robert Downey, Jr., Alan Arkin, and Christopher Buchholz. (2004) — Duncan Shepherd