"A dreamy, witty and altogether perfect movie that never fails to lift my mood"
Chungking Express, directed by Wong Kar Wai, comes into my top 5 films of all time for 3 reasons. Firstly, it is “a movie you'll relate to if you love film itself”, in the words of Roger Ebert. Secondly, the film uses its characters’ stories and psyches as microcosms for the psychological ailments and quips of Hong Kong society in a way that I’ve never seen in another movie; it is innovative and witty. And third, for its terrifically cool ennui. All of this is presented through 2 mirrored stories of lovelorn cops, and their female kindred spirits who all wander around Hong Kong hapless and unwilling to accept change. Our central character though is the city itself which is the focus of the film’s arc.
At the time of the film’s making, Hong Kong was a British territory. 3 years after the film’s release, the lease would be due to expire and Hong Kong would be handed back over to the People’s Republic of China. This momentous point in history undoubtedly would serve as a source of anxiety for Hong Kong society, not least in its understanding of its own identity and the uncertainty for what the change would bring. Time is a recurring motif in the film; we see lots of images of clocks and expiration dates. Cop 223, in a childish attempt to get over May, buys pineapple that expires only on the 1st May every day for a month. During voiceover, he quips “I’m beginning to think everything has an expiration date”. This statement is just one of many among the various characters’ soliloquys that point to the prevalence of postmodern thinking in the time leading up to the handover.
Wong Kar Wai neatly interweaves these offhand postmodern comments with stylistic conventions of the postmodern new wave movement. Often in films, I think the use of stop motion and stretch printing feel tacky and jarring, but Wong Kar Wai uses it ironically to speak of Hong Kong’s tacky and jarring pop culture. The shaky camera movements and blurred shots foreground a sense of volatility and chaos; it’s almost as if the characters are evanescing between shots.
The cop then meets a dangerous woman in a blonde wig, sunglasses and 50s trench coat (because she’s becoming increasingly paranoid about the volatility of the weather). Her story has all the narrative tropes of film noir; a gun, a crime, a femme fatale, the romantic happenstance of their meeting. But then the story is abruptly cut short and we move into the other narrative, as if moving through the loophole of cinema. The second story is uncannily similar, there are strange mirrors everywhere that make us feel we’re in a dream, where realities keep resurfacing. In both stories the love interests are air hostesses, the men are both cops. The first love interest is named May, the second is named Faye. Reflections appear so frequently that it’s like Wong Kar Wai is trying to confuse us, if it weren’t for these shots being so cinematically satisfying that I instead end up in an awed stupor. The duplications of course relay the idea that in modern Hong Kong, people are living on recycled identities.
In the second story cop 663 meets Faye, a girl obsessed with the song “California” by the Mamas and Papas who blasts her music so she doesn’t have to hear herself think. Characters like this epitomised the 90s Generation X trend and the romance of meaninglessness, apathy and spontaneity. The actress, Faye Wong (and cherished Hong Kong pop star) somehow makes working in a fast food joint seem glamorous with her vivacious, loopy yet vaguely dejected disposition.
Played effortlessly by Tony Leung, Cop 663 is also charmingly unengaged and dejected. Both live in their own dream worlds, edging on madness. The cop therapies himself by giving life advice to the objects lying around his apartment; to a dripping towel he says “I told you not to cry. [] You must be strong and tough.” Faye playfully removes these objects in secret.
There is a strong emphasis being put on inanimate objects in the film which is analogised with the inanimate nature of the characters. Cop 663 doesn’t even notice the changes though, insinuating that perhaps the change ensuing from the handover will be merely inanimate and therefore unnoticeable. Later he talks to the towel after Faye replaces it and says, “despite the change of its look, it still remains true to itself. It’s still an emotionally charged towel”. This is the culmination of Hong Kong's character arc.
Although the film is largely about loneliness, it is extraordinarily uplifting which demonstrates Wong’s unparalleled talent. For some, it’s perhaps because of Wong’s pervasive employment of pop culture, straddling both East and West. For some, it’s the California dreaminess of it all. But for those who love film itself, it’s the way Wong romanticizes these endearing yet inanimate characters through borrowed cinema, permitting the viewer to celebrate their own postmodern ennui and lack of identity. And of course, it’s a glorious homage to the cinematic prowess of the 20th century.