Wong Kar Wai and the Feelings We Can’t Escape
In addition to the stunning sights and sounds most cinephiles will recognize as his signature touches, Wong Kar Wai’s films feature characters navigating loneliness, loss, and longing. A newly released collection of 4K restorations—approved by Wong Kar Wai himself—provides a curated view of how he filters recurring themes and character types through different genres, tones, and filmmaking styles. This collection is available to stream on Austin Film Society’s AFS@Home platform.
The typical Wong Kar Wai character is on the verge of leaving town to start over because things are not going their way. They are most likely hidden away in hotel rooms and apartments where they can nurture desires that feel removed from any conventional idea of home or safety. They can’t resist tempting fate in pool halls, ferry terminals, restaurant kitchens, hallways of apartment buildings, and moving vehicles. They have plans to climb mountains so they can whisper unbearable secrets into trees and they’ve probably made a few bold proclamations while hanging out at snack kiosks. While in constant motion, they are prone to sharing intimate life stories and metaphors over delicious food not cooked at home. In a word, they are intense.
The approved collection of 4K restorations spans Wong Kar Wai’s filmography from 1988 to 2004. Viewed chronologically, it charts an intriguing course through the mind of a storyteller driven primarily by existential curiosity. Each film finds a unique way to externalize its characters’ interior lives while they attempt to escape their own minds and hearts.
AS TEARS GO BY (1988)
AS TEARS GO BY is a story about how several people try to take care of one another while living in close proximity to violence and emotional instability. Wah (Andy Lau), a debt collector for the mob, decides he wants to find a more meaningful sense of purpose after falling for his distant cousin Ngor (Maggie Cheung). When she is introduced, she is wearing a mask to keep her lung-related illness from affecting others. It’s as though she arrives in the film after having traveled back in time from 2020.
Wah is continuously pulled into dangerous situations while trying to protect his reckless brother Fly (Jacky Cheung); this dynamic makes Ngor increasingly distant and Fly increasingly codependent. Amid the tension, Wong Kar Wai’s approach injects notably romantic touches like a montage set to Berlin’s “Take My Breath Away.” This is an example of how he incorporates contemporary pop songs to bring emotions to the forefront. Another stylistic case study in his approach is a slow-motion makeout session at a ferry station late at night. Throughout this early feature, Wong Kar Wai’s interest in his characters’ emotional needs adds a more aching, human layer to an otherwise conventional gangster story.
DAYS OF BEING WILD (1990)
Set in Hong Kong and the Philippines from 1960 to 1961, DAYS OF BEING WILD follows a character named York (Leslie Cheung) as he engages in tumultuous romances with two women: Li-zhen (Maggie Cheung) and Mimi (Carina Lau). His emotional unavailability and flat out cruelty traumatize these women in different ways. They also affect York’s relationship with his best friend Zeb (Jacky Cheung). Much of his toxic behavior seems to stem from the fact that he does not know his real mother. In his romantic relationships, he treats the potential safety of companionship as something to be weaponized or withheld. The film reinforces fluidity in how we experience one another. Different people play the same roles as those who came before them and things are always in a state of transition. When York embarks on a walkabout in the Philippines as an attempt to find out more about his mother, Mimi and Li-zhen are eventually able to reset and move on.
A mysterious vignette featuring Tony Leung as a character called “the gambler” closes the film. Any knowledge of Leung’s gargantuan presence in Wong Kar Wai’s overall filmography will make this final moment feel like a sneak peek at the future of the Wong Kar Wai Cinematic Universe. In fact. DAYS OF BEING WILD, IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE, and a later Wong Kar Wai film called 2046 are considered to be a trilogy.
CHUNGKING EXPRESS (1994)
CHUNGKING EXPRESS focuses on how we observe, avoid, and attempt to connect with one another. The film consists of two episodic stories about unconventional characters processing heightened emotions in ways that are clumsy but ultimately human. The first story is about the unlikely bond between a detective failing to get over a breakup and a mysterious, unpredictable drug smuggler. The second is about a worker at a snack kiosk pursuing her attraction to a police officer by stealthily immersing herself in his life, home, and emotional turmoil.
There are several standout sequences in the film that build out the inner worlds of its characters. The police officer, played by Tony Leung, inhabits his loneliness by talking to inanimate objects in his apartment. He looks at a thin bar of soap and tells it to believe in itself; He tells a wet rag to stop crying before wringing it out; He says his apartment is weeping when it floods. The detective getting over a breakup waxes philosophical about how jogging helps him get rid of excess water and avoid crying. Similarly, his drug smuggler companion mentions wearing sunglasses and a raincoat because one never knows if it’s going to be rainy or sunny. After repeatedly sneaking into the police officer’s apartment with a key dropped off by his former lover, the snack kiosk worker says she might be sharing his dreams with him. Each character has a guiding philosophy to cope with feeling wholly different from the world around them.
The recurring use of songs like “California Dreamin’” by The Mamas and The Papas and a Cantonese cover of “Dreams” by The Cranberries reinforce Wong Kar Wai’s ability to give music its own emotional arc in a story. Characters either play these songs at full volume and attempt to talk over them or dance to them in moments when they feel alone. The song titles hint at aspirations of escaping to faraway places where existential dread is hopefully easier to bear. The music works in tandem with the cinematography and sincere performances throughout the film to conjure the beautiful and frustrating aspects of being human.
FALLEN ANGELS (1995)
FALLEN ANGELS is built on style and angst. The very essence of each character seems like it’s pulling the camera from place to place because they are almost always in close-up (even while moving). The world of the film is nocturnal; it feels like a composite of LOST IN TRANSLATION and THE MATRIX put through a Steven Soderbergh converter. Some characters turn intimacy into a game while others say vulnerable things like “Let me cry on your shoulder” right away. They are all tumbling through the night while trying to cure their loneliness in destructive ways. As sleek as the film can be, Wong Kar Wai finds and highlights the tenderness hiding behind every performative facade.
HAPPY TOGETHER (1997)
In HAPPY TOGETHER, romantic longing feels like a curse. After traveling from Hong Kong to Buenos Aires to rekindle a relationship that is volatile on its best days, Lai Yiu-Fai (Tony Leung) and Ho Po-Wing (Leslie Cheung) find themselves in different places emotionally. Tony Leung masterfully conveys the specific loneliness of being sad in a strange place. As Lai realizes that love’s gravitational pull can sometimes be an illusion upon closer inspection, he orbits his former lover while working odd jobs and fearing the infamous words “Let’s start over.” The film’s screenplay contains several gems, including meditations on Hong Kong and Buenos Aires being on opposite ends of the earth. Whether or not that’s a fact matters far less than the emotional state of a character that needs to make it one. Lai, who can never go home, is grieving the exciting potential of finally building something sustainable in a magical new place.
It turns out that the real magic comes not from any particular place but from connections with other people. One of the film’s most compelling storylines involves Lai crying into a tape recorder and literally handing over his sorrow to a friend. That recipient vows to carry this sadness to a lighthouse, where it can finally be relinquished. When Lai finds this unexpected form of relief in a compassionate stranger, he is able to visit a waterfall he meant to experience with Ho and finally return to Hong Kong on his own terms. Love could not exist between the two characters introduced at the beginning of the film, but it is still infinitely possible.
IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE (2000)
To watch IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE is to be immersed in a gorgeously stylized, shockingly intimate portrait of impossible attraction. The two people at the center of the film—a journalist named Chow Mo-wan (Tony Leung) and a secretary at a shipping company named Su Li-zhen (Maggie Cheung)—are caught up in busy work lives, isolated metropolitan existences, and marriages in which they are neglected. When they discover that their distant spouses are having an affair, they are drawn to each other in ways that overpower any pre-existing sense of reality.
Because they don’t want to mimic the infidelity they have witnessed in their partners, the would-be lovers bond over noodles, writing, and a fondness for long walks at night. Su inspires Chow to start writing serialized fiction and he inspires her to become more than just “Mrs. Chan,” the unflinchingly loyal wife. Before her connection with Chow blossoms, Su is often portrayed waiting while her husband is away. She takes walks in gorgeous gowns and jewelry under the pretense of “Just getting some noodles'' from a nearby shop. In the early stages of this deliberately slow-moving story, she desperately wants to maintain some idea of forward momentum. Chow is shown in a similar state, calling his wife again and again while she supposedly works nights and crossing paths with Su on his own solo trips to get noodles and ruminate.
A piece of music called “Yumeji’s Theme” is featured prominently throughout the film. It first appears during a communal dinner scene in which early hints of attraction between Chow and Su become visible. The second time the theme is used, it serves as a soundtrack for a slow-motion trip to the noodle shop. The third time the song appears, Su and Chow cross paths at the top of the stairs leading to the shop. When it begins to rain, Chow runs back for shelter while Su waits for her noodles, visibly tense and uncertain about what might be happening between her and this man. The shift in weather syncs up their walks back to their side-by-side apartments; they vaguely but purposefully reference their spouses to keep lines drawn.
“Yumeji’s Theme” takes on increasingly intense meaning when it becomes the soundtrack for Chow’s new apartment. (He opts for a change of scenery to cope with his longing for Su.) In a montage that feels romantically and intellectually intimate, he writes new material and Su reads it while they share this sacred space; they bond over to-go noodles and mutual recognition of their wholeness. At this point in their relationship, very little touch has occurred and they are mostly concerned with avoiding a scandal. Still, they seem completely in love and like they have been for decades.
Eventually, “Yumeji’s Theme” becomes associated with the tragic impossibility of this all-consuming romance. When this becomes clear, Su weeps while Chow embraces her and stoically bears it. As the music continues during a late night car ride, she says “I don’t want to go home tonight” and rests a head on his shoulder—another precious moment of touch that illustrates their effortless connection.
At one point, Chow looks at Su and says “Since you’re trapped here, finish the noodles.” This summarizes their dynamic in that their attraction feels both illicit and like the thing they must follow to survive.
An epilogue set in Cambodia is introduced with the following quote: “That era has passed. Nothing that belongs to it exists anymore.” This reflects the experience of watching IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE because it feels self-contained in its own intensely emotional universe.
THE HAND (2004)
THE HAND is a sensual, mysterious, and quietly devastating short film. It feels similar to THE HANDMAIDEN and PHANTOM THREAD, the latter representing a particularly apt comparison given that it portrays clothing (primarily dresses) as a source of power. As the film’s title suggests, hands play a key role in the story; specifically, the hands of a tailor named Zhang. One of his clients is a sex worker named Miss Hua, someone who wields power and maintains her class status by dressing a certain way. Zhang’s clothes help her project a certain image that both attracts the clientele she wants and helps her assert herself. This means that, for a long time, he is the only one that truly sees and holds her. As life gets harder and lonelier for both of them, they find and nurture an intimate connection that transcends the class barriers imposed upon them. In keeping with his other films, Wong Kar Wai has the characters arrive at the most intense moments of connection while in a hotel room that feels completely hidden from the world.
The universes within all human beings fuel the intrigue, romance, violence, and sadness in these 4K restorations. They are a compelling representation of an ongoing filmography eager to grapple with what’s difficult while attempting to find the slivers of beauty in it. A collection of Wong Kar Wai movies might be just the right thing to match the quiet contemplation and solitude brought on by the winter months; they are journeys well worth taking because they remind us of all that we contain. Check out the entire collection on AFS@Home.
Nick Bachan is a writer and illustrator based in Texas. His essays, cartoons, and stories explore how people engage with emotions, history, pop culture, and one another.
@nickbachan on Twitter // https://nickbachan.com/