Chungking Express (1994)

QFS No. 162 - The invitation for January 8, 2025
Happy New Year! We resolve to watch movies and argue about them in a constructive manner!

We last watched a film from the great Wong Kar-wai in 2023 with his In the Mood for Love (2000, QFS No. 105) – another favorite of mine. Now, if you have watched In the Mood for Love and found the pace a little too languid for your taste, I assure you that Chungking Express is vastly different on that account. It’s actually somewhat surprising that the same filmmaker made both films when you see them side-by-side, with Chungking Express flying a little more kinetically than the rhythmic, elegant pace of In the Mood for Love.

I first watched Chungking Express on what was likely a bootlegged VHS tape that a fellow AFI Fellow had obtained and snuck in a viewing at school back in 2000 when the film was not in wide distribution in the US. The film blew me away and that started my long, steady trek towards Wong Kar-wai becoming one of my favorite filmmakers of all time. And in case you like lists, Chungking Express is No. 88 on BFI’s Greatest Films of All Time list (In the Mood for Love is No. 5, incidentally).

Chungking Express is a film that fills me with joy, and I feel like we’ll need a lot of that this year – so why not start the year off this way? Join us in the discussion!

Chungking Express (1994) Directed by Wong Kar-wai

Reactions and Analyses:
What is it like to live in a city? A city, teeming with life, with people, with corners unexplored and places undiscovered. At times exciting, at times isolating, paradoxically producing loneliness amidst the masses. Serendipitous, concealing, frantic and sleepy all at once. In this, the city, Wong Kar-wai paints a poetic, chaotic mess in Chungking Express (1994).

Scenes of Hong Kong at night during the first half of Chungking Express (1994), the West and East colliding in this city on the eve of the handover back to China. The Woman the Blonde Wig (Brigitte Lin) almost disappears as if she’s one of the goods in the store.

The kinetic swish of running through the city at night.

Indians, Europeans, Chinese all collide in this little universe.

So often when writing or thinking about a movie or a television show, we use the expression “the city is a character.” In films where this is truly the case, the city has become more than a backdrop or a setting, but directly influences the characters’ decisions and actions. New York takes on this quite frequently, with probably Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver (1976) being the most clear example of this.

The neighborhood is more than just a place in Do the Right Thing (1989).

The city block in Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing (1989) is not just a setting, but its very dynamic of race and class influences the narrative. You could argue that in John Singleton’s Boyz n the Hood (1991, QFS No. 12), the protagonists’ Los Angeles neighborhood influences how they behave, what they attempt to achieve, how they try to survive. Rio de Janiero explodes to life in Walter Salles’ City of God (2002) and is as much an influencer of the narrative as any film about a place. Lost in Translation (2003) for Tokyo, Mystic River (2003) for Boston, maybe even Blues Brothers (1980) for Chicago - a place oozing with music at ever turn.

Travis Bickle (Robert DeNiro) in Taxi Driver (1976), the red lights of the city illuminating him.

Woman in the Blonde Wig and He Zhiwu (Takeshi Kaneshiro) illuminated by red light in the city tavern.

In Chungking Express (1994), Wong Kar-wai captures Hong Kong at a particular inflection point in history. On the eve of the handover of Hong Kong from the United Kingdom back to the China, the city is a nation state, influenced by the West and the East, a crossroads but more than that. The ancient city is crisscrossed with oddities that span the old and the new – an outdoor moving walkway next to Cop 663’s (Tony Leung Chiu-wai) home, a cloth-covered vegetable market near the Coca-Cola adorned Indian food stalls. The cold iron and steel and neon of a city but the red and swish of color of fruit merchants and factory produced goods. The Indian goods makers, the Chinese shop keepers, the European drug dealer/bar owner.

One comparison that came up in our QFS discussion was Slumdog Millionaire (2008), and specifically its portrayal of a city. The time frame of Chungking Express and Slumdog Millionaire are different - Danny Boyle’s film takes place over the protagonists’ childhood into adulthood as opposed to the very compressed time in Chungking Express - but both capture a city at an inflection point. In Slumdog Millionaire, “Bombay became Mumbai” says Jamal (Dev Patel), which is to say a sprawling Indian city became an international megalopolis complete with wealthy homes and, to the main narrative point, fancy game shows. But it’s this moment in time, when slums are about to be turned into high rises and the messy city that grew up as a child of British Empire, Indian Kingdoms and Indian Democracy will accelerate into a new iteration. Hong Kong is similar, another child of Empire and an in between democracy, is on the verge of something new. It’s that energy that Wong Kar-wai so adeptly harnesses throughout Chungking Express.

The Woman in the Blonde Wig inadvertently extracts He Zhiwu from his melancholy.

But it’s not just the vibrancy of the city that concerns the filmmaker, but how a city influences the people who dwell within it. The men, Cop 663 and He Zhiwu, Cop 223 (Takeshi Kaneshiro) are sad poets, so caught up in their own loneliness that they are unaware of something critical right in front of their noses. He Zhiwu doesn’t realize that the blonde woman he’s falling for (Briggitte Lin) is the very woman that his police force is on the search for after she went on a vengeful shooting spree. And Cop 663’s apartment life continues to improve, somehow, though he’s completely unaware an elf is the one doing the improving – Faye (Faye Wong), who is either smitten or just mischievous and craves a mission. In a city, she can slink through unnoticed among the masses, infiltrate 663’s home, and return to work without anyone being the wiser - just one of a million people on their own solitary task.

Cop 663 tries to inspire the inanimate objects around him or shares his disappointment in their recent performances.

The isolation the men feel in the city manifests differently for both men. He Zhiwu seeks out companionship actively, calling women he’s known – even ones he hadn’t spoken to since grade school or ones that now have children. He’s obsessed with an ex-girlfriend and buys cans of nearly-expired pineapples with her name, May, on it. Cop 663 communicates with his “community” of inanimate objects in his home after his air hostess girlfriend leaves him. He gives his wash rag a pep talk and expresses disappointment in his toothbrush. It’s the women, the connection of people accidentally thrust together in the sprawling metropolis that bring life to these men, that bring them out of their bad poetry and self-pitying.

Faye on her secret mission in Cop 663’s apartment.

And just as serendipitously as people intersect, they disappear. The Woman in the Blonde Wig disappears into the night, a freeze frame capturing a split second of her without her wig and her true identity. Faye stands up Cop 663, the swirl of colors becoming an oil painting as she disappears, only to return as a flight attendant, of all things – having made it to California of California Dreamin’ fame. The two reunite and perhaps, perhaps, the city has had a hand in curing loneliness.

Would these people have met had it not been for what a city can be, how it can push people together just as easily as it can obscure them? Hard to say, of course, but if you believe the city is a character - as it is almost certainly is here - then their fate is maybe not totally in their hands. It’s the unseen, alive presence of the urban world that has set their lives in motion.

Cop 663 now knows Faye’s been in his apartment and confronts her at her food stall.

Wong Kar-wai captures a city perhaps better than anyone else. You feel the sweat, the grime, the physicality of the place. The fluorescent lights of the soda shops, the interplay of shadow and light from buildings and cloths draped across alleys. The city is a character in many films but it is, arguably, the star of Chungking Express.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000)

QFS No. 1 - The invitation for April 29, 2020
SR Note: This email invitation contains the QFS origin story - our first ever email sent out to the group that would become Quarantine Film Society. The format became slightly more standardized as we went along. Enjoy.

If you are receiving this this email electronically that means (a) society has not fully collapsed and technology still exists and (b) you have been on the list of our “monthly” gathering in LA, Wednesday Night Film Society. Or (c) you have just now been added to WeNiFiS’ risk-averse cousin …

Quarantine Film Society!

The original premise of WeNiFiS was to get us out of the house to watch a movie in the theater and then talk about it afterwards. A way to see movies in the way they are meant to be seen and also an excuse to hang out in the capital of MovieTown. We watched one (1) film this way in 2020 (Parasite) before the plague stretched across the lands. So alas no more theater outings until the plague subsides. But we can still talk … at least until the virus further mutates and renders us speechless. UNTIL that happens, here’s what I’d like to try for QFS.

I’ll pick a film for you to watch at home or in you bunker. It will either be a film recently released or perhaps we’ll revisit an old classic. It may or may not be a film you have already seen. But that’s okay – revisiting a film is wonderful and I find myself doing that so rarely these days. It’s nice to cook comfort food sometimes while also trying to bake something new. 

Anyway – after I’ve emailed the choice of film, you have essentially a week to watch it at your leisure on whatever streaming service you can find the film (or DVD/BluRay/VHS/16mm if you happen to own it). Then on, at the listed time and date, click on the provided Zoom link and we shall discuss it in a civilized manner at first followed by childish name calling and eventually direct threats.

So think of it as a book club for movie nerds. The Zoom get together will give you an excuse to wear a shirt that day, but depending on the framing of your device you could probably still not wear pants should you so choose. You could also remain intoxicated regardless of framing.

Speaking of – since we won’t be meeting at a bar or restaurant like we usually do after the movie, everyone is encouraged to drink at home and turn the music up a little too loud so you have to lean in to hear each other speak.

ENOUGH WHAT MOVIE ARE WE WATCHING?

Let’s escape the rapidly encroaching walls in the confines of our homes and disappear into - Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon (2000), directed by Ang Lee.

It’s hard to believe it’s been twenty (!) years since Crouching Tiger was in the theater. I saw it in the first few months after I moved to Los Angeles in 2000 at an IFP screening, and have seen it maybe one more time since. Thinking about it feels comforting and appropriately escapist, so I figured now is a good time to revisit it. I’ll say no more if you haven’t seen it so we can discuss then.

I’ll send a reminder and I guess a Zoom link next week some time. Though I’ve never hosted a Zoom meeting so bear with me. Also – this may or may not work but hell, it’s worth giving it a try. At worst, you’ll have put on a shirt that day.

 Stay safe, be well, disinfect everything.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000) Directed by Ang Lee.

Reactions and Analyses:
I didn’t write extensive notes during this first discussion, but I’ll reflect on the time and the nature of the get together, as well as some details I remember from that conversation. As part chronicle of our times and part film analysis, this one will lean a bit more into a chronicle of our times.

Zoom was a relatively new tool for many of us. My wife had been using Zoom for a year at this point to communicate with her staff in other cities. I had been on it a few times after everything shut down in mid-March, but mostly to talk with friends about how their lives had changed and what their fears were a few weeks into the shutdown.

Chow Yun-Fat and Michelle Yeoh in Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon (2000) Directed by Ang Lee.

I invited people to watch Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon (2000) and to join me on Zoom to discuss. Our turnout was incredible. This was before I kept track of the numbers because I thought I was only going to do this once, but we had I believer more than two dozen filmmakers join the conversation. It’s not just because of the film or anything I did - everyone was yearning for human connection outside of their homes. It was still early and we hadn’t yet paced ourselves or gotten used to being isolated at home.

As for the film - it remains a stunning piece of filmmaking. I had not watched it in many years, but all of it showcases a filmmaker at the very apex of his powers - the cast, the filmmaking craft, the storytelling, the mythology created, it’s all riveting. It feels like a fable, like a tale from antiquity told anew on screen. The fight in the treetops is a masterpiece. Michelle Yeoh (as “Yu Shu Lien”) is as magnetic as ever on screen, as is Chow Yun-fat ("as “Li Mu Bai”), and Zhang Ziyi (as “Jen Yu”) is perfectly cast and her heartbreaking leap at the end is still wrenching to witness.

Jen’s (Zhang Ziyi) leap in Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon (2000).

Ang Lee remains one of the filmmakers I most admire. After Life of Pi (2012), an essay he wrote went around about how he nearly left filmmaking early on to get his Masters in computer science or something like that, because he was failing to break through. His wife found his acceptance letter to the program and confronted him, imploring him not to give up on his dreams. He threw away the letter and did just that, to the good fortune of us all. It’s something I think about often that keeps me going as well.

His directing is what I call “invisible.” He tells the story the best way he can with the tools of a filmmaker. He doesn’t have a style that you can point to the way a David Fincher or a Wes Anderson does. For an Ang Lee film, the story comes first - what is the best way to tell this story - the style comes naturally from that.

In addition to that - here’s an Asian filmmaker who has made films that reflect his identity but also others that have nothing to do with being Asian. He directed The Ice Storm (1997) for crying out loud - a film with all white people fraying at the seams. And it’s excellent. He directed a film about two men who love each other in a time when they can’t in Brokeback Mountain (2005) and won an Oscar for directing it. What I mean to say - he’s a filmmaker who is treated as a filmmaker, not an “ethnic” filmmaker. This, to me, is the highest praise for someone like him - and like me. As a South Asian American filmmaker, I always strive to be recognized first and foremost for the quality of my work and not who I am or what I look like. I know that’s true for most all of us, and Ang Lee represents that ideal.

Anyway, we had a fruitful discussion that was a lot of fun and gave me the idea to keep doing it. I had no idea it would continue for years - both the group and COVID. Here’s hoping the group endures longer than the pandemic.