2006 / Johnnie To > A calculated work of art, Exiled is a treat to those who enjoyed The Mission by To. With the same actors in tow, the film features several classic Hong Kong-style shootouts as its main entree while serving up themes of loyalty, debt and brotherhood as its appetizers. What’s for dessert, then? How about a sweet soundtrack accompanied by beautiful, angular shots that make this a memorable viewing, even if the underlying plot is superficial at best.
Category Archives: Hong Kong/China
Viva Erotica
1996 / Derek Yee > There’s something strangely charming about this satire about the Hong Kong Category III—or softcore porn—industry. It’s not the naive and sexy Shu Qi, although that certainly helps. And it’s not exactly Leslie Cheung’s pinning down of his semi-aloof failed-director-forced-to-go-softcore character either. It has more to do with Derek Yee’s ability to make fun of both himself as well as the industry as a whole while still trying to convey a serious message. It’s unfortunate that the production quality is a little subpar, and some of the comedy comes across a little forced. Otherwise, this is a Hong Kong gem that’s considerably more intelligent than its peers.
Drink, Drank, Drunk
2005 / Derek Yee > Romantic comedies from Hong Kong are arguably some of the silliest films in the world, and Derek Yee’s Drink, Drank, Drunk is no exception. However, somehow Daniel Wu’s acting is even sillier. Nowhere present is the level of emotion he showed in One Nite in Mongkok, and there is virtually no chemistry onscreen between him and Miriam Yeung. If it weren’t for the ending, which was a absolute surprise (although I imagine Yee always has at least one decent trick up his sleeves), the film would have been an absolute wash of two hours.
Dog Bite Dog
2006 / Cheang Soi > Violence for the sake of violence has become a bit of a bore lately. So, once in a while, we get a film that tries to justify its grotesque level of blood and gore as if there’s a greater meaning to it all. Sometimes it succeeds (see Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance). But as is the case with Dog Bite Dog, chances of a failure is more probable. The glue for the film are the acting feats pulled off by one of the pretty boys of Hong Kong here: Edison Chen, and the immaculate conception of dramatic skills by the usually effervescent Sam Lee in his role as a misunderstood cop hot on the trail of the aforementioned Mr. Chen.
The film is not completely without merit. The violence is gruesome, but at times you can’t help but feel for both sides of the law. The line between good and bad is not often clear, and some of the situations the characters face are surreal enough that it’s hard to put one’s self in such a position. Unfortunately, the film is plagued by an elongated ending that stretches beyond a reasonable conclusion and holds the viewer at a standstill for what is, essentially, a filler finale.
Fearless
2006 / Ronny Yu > In some ways, it’s hard not to like Fearless: Yuen Woo-Ping’s exquisitely crafted fight sequences leave you breathless by the beauty of its brutality. Shigeru Umebayashi’s score, while not memorable, is subtle enough to cradle your patience when the film tries to be a little too philosophical. And Jet Li’s goodbye-to-wushu performance is, at the least, memorable for his return to the days of Fist of Legend in terms of style, intricacy and emotion.
I do, however, find myself disappointed in the film’s erratic character development. Often, characters motivations changed seemingly overnight, as if it’s just that simple. Moreover, its emotional overtones were often heavy-handed, and much of it was fairly trite and by the numbers. One has to wonder, though, if the film’s original 150 minute cut would have been able to achieve what this 105 minute theatrical release did not. If there’s not much else to the story that what’s presented here, there’s a chance that the longer cut would have been a droning failure. For that, it’s possible to give Ronny Yu the benefit of the doubt and consider this as good a martial arts film will get these days.
Daisy
2006 / Andrew Lau > What do you get when you combine Infernal Affairs director Andrew Lau with the writer/director Kwak Jae-young of My Sassy Girl? Apparently a love triangle between Jun Ji-hyun, a cop and a contract killer. Having watched the 124 minute director’s cut, it’s pretty understandable why the Korean audiences didn’t initially take on this film: The theatrical cut had much of the initial storyline development shortened into one, tight package that skews the objectivity and thoughtfulness present in the longer version.
The film itself is somewhat slowly paced, but absolutely beautiful (as one should expect). Jun, for once, plays a girl of calm demeanor, which befits her considerably more than the loud, obnoxious teens she’s portrayed in films such as My Sassy Girl and Windstruck. Kwak’s strength is generally exposition, and in Daisy, his skillful storytelling is highlighted well. It’s important to weigh the background plot a little less than the love story itself (which the film does successfully), but inevitably the weakest point of the film is Kwak’s inability to avoid a barrage of melodrama in the finale. He’s done this before, so it shouldn’t be surprising by any means. Taking into effect the flock of unnecessary flashback sequences later in the film, Daisy fails to reach a higher ground—A disappointment, considering how strong a start it had.
In the Mood for Love
2000 / Wong Kar-Wai > No matter how many times it’s viewed, In the Mood for Love never fails to impress and evoke: Incredible performances from Maggie Cheung/Tony Leung, gorgeous cinematography by Christopher Doyle/Mark Li and the haunting music of Shigeru Umebayashi/Michael Galasso come together to complete Wong Kar-Wai’s masterpiece about unrequited love.
Never has a film mesmerized as much as it has made the heart ache. There’s a wondrous beauty in its concepts of time and space between a man and a woman, of hope and fulfillment vs. respect and duty. And it’s absolutely fantastic when rain starts to fall.
Isabella
2006 / Edmond Pang > Recoginized with the Silver Bear for Best Film Music at this year’s Berlinale, Pang Ho-Cheung’s story is of a pre-handover Macau cop and the discovery of the daughter he never knew he had. The cop, played by a suddenly mature Chapman To is often outshined by the daughter, played by Canto-pop start-turned serious actress Isabella Leung. Her performance is surprising, if only because she pins down the mercurial behavior of the daughter so well.
Unlike most films, Peter Kam’s score refuses to take a backseat to the actors, and often pads idyllic sequences so they end up having as much breadth as those with blatant meaning. The story turns conventional halfway through, but luckily changes back into something a little more special at the end. There is strength in how it culminates, and any sort of seesaw Pang went through in revealing plot details are ironed out. Of special note is the elegant beauty of the sets, taking advantage of the Portuguese-influenced architecture and a bounty of colors reminiscent of Wong Kar-Wai’s In the Mood for Love. Isabella is a simple, wondrous pleasure.
Millennium Mambo
2001 / Hou Hsiao-Hsien > Millennium Mambo is the first time I’ve taken the time to actually sit through a film made by one of the Taiwanese New Wave directors. While it tested my patience at several instances, I also felt strangely drawn to it. There isn’t much of a plot in the contentional sense; people do mundane things, but ironically we identify with these events considerably more than a car chase. Turn of the century techno/house permeates the soundtrack, and glowing, neon colors end up being strangely soothing to the eye.
I’m unsure why I like this film. It felt a bit like the old Wong Kar-Wai on acid, and must have been a considerable influence on Coppola’s Lost in Translation. Shu Qi is heartbreaking and gorgeous, evoking a sentimentalist innocence not often felt in films nowadays. In this process, Hou has successfully challenged me to revisit his other films as well as those of his compatriot Tsai Ming-Liang.