A spontaneous, exciting masterpiece created out of Hong Kong and its 1994 chaos.
“Chungking Express” is a film constructed out of two connected tales, both involving forlorn cops. Raised in Taiwan, a Hong Kong police officer usually dubbed Cop 223, is a master of many languages. His name is He Zhi-Wu, and he is presently trying to revitalize from a shock; her girlfriend of five years ditched him on April Fool’s day. On the other hand, a remarkable blonde woman attempts to oversee a smuggling operation, but it goes awry. Now the woman must survive in a hostile underworld and aiming to loosen up a bit, she meets the lonely Zhi-Wu. The second story involves a policeman known as Cop 663, who, like his counterpart in the initial story, is handling a breakup. He comes upon the charming Faye, a new girl at a snack bar the two policemen frequent. Gradually, the two forms a unique connection.
“Chungking Express”, one of Wong’s two 1994 releases, is a movie distinguished for its usage of style. The presentation is incredible. When not depicting the respective apartments of the policemen or the snack bar, the film is an exhibition of neon lights and the metaphysical glamour of Hong Kong streets. The cinematographers, Christopher Doyle and Andrew Lau Wai-Keung, comprehending the urgency of grasping trivial details, perform so. Minor components add up until the display of minute fragments become the centre point of the full movie. The hues of the fish tank evolve to be as significant as the complete solitude of the policeman who owns it.
Wong’s signature style is an advancement of the style exemplified by the films of Hong Kong New Wave director Patrick Tam Kar-Ming. In this third flick, he finally demonstrates an expansion upon the Tam-like visual technique he wielded in the first couple of his works. Music is as essential to the experience as the visuals. The original soundtrack is a batch of melancholic melodies, which fits like a glove in the scenes they are presented at. Nevertheless, it is Wong’s anthology of vocal tracks which changes the aura into something electrifying.
The extraordinary choice of music, primarily English-language songs, may remind one of the cultural intricacies of Hong Kong. Time after time, Hong Kong has glimpsed itself pass through the perimeters of culture. Once Chinese, then British, then Japanese, yet again British, yet again Chinese: the city has had too many physical, economic and cultural mutations to have a realistic idea of its own identity. If Taipei, for Hou, is “A City Of Sadness”, then the Hong Kong of Wong is the city of transformation, of persistent fluctuations encompassing the past, present and future.
Especially in 1994, three years before the handover, every activity of every character appears to be an explicit response to the uncertainties future call for and the repeated expression of “expiry date” assumes a different shape. When the sky is cloudy, the world seems suffocating. Rain brings forward surges of sentimentality and a clear sky initiates emotional liberty. In “Chungking Express”, Hong Kong is the secret fifth protagonist, and either oversees the mental state of its inhabitants, particularly the two policemen, the blonde woman and the dreamy snack bar girl, or transforms according to it.
The English title is a combination of spots encountered through the movie, the startlingly ghetto-like Chungking Mansions and Midnight Express, the snack bar. The consequent title is a meticulous emissary of the film: dynamic, fast and layered. The characters are dreamers, with lofted intentions reaching up to California, and possibly beyond. The characters are losers, the unfortunate ones. They either lose due to their fault or due to causes uncomplainable. An example of the first is the possible lack of attention shown by 663 to his girlfriend. An indication of the second is in the femme fatale possibly being set up for trouble.
Takeshi Kaneshiro and Tony Leung Chiu-Wai excel as the two lonely policemen. Feeling the pangs of solitude owing to getting dumped by their respective girlfriends, the duo walks down different paths to attend to their love-sickness. Neither fully accept the situation they are in. They miss old habits and adamantly refuse to acknowledge the influence of transformation, and live in unique worlds. For Kaneshiro’s 223, the process is a limitless exploration of memories. For Leung’s 663, it is to find life and existence in household items and to discover within the inanimate objects signs of life. Neither of them fully succeeds in their endeavour to counter solitude through such measures; none of the two processes is based on reality.
For the two women, solitude exists in slightly different paths. If the men refuse the certainty of changeover, the women actively look for it. The blonde, played by the enigmatic Brigitte Lin is the personification of mystery. Her face and name are unknown. With utmost care is she slowly humanized through the course of the first story, running parallel to the realization of reality by 223. Both needs shoulders to lean upon, and total strangers may at times be more helpful than acquaintances. Faye, on the other hand, is a free soul stuck by the monetary need required for freedom in the modern world. Faye Wong plays the eponymous character, and her performance seems to get better with the runtime. The rambunctious character is thoroughly suitable for the essence of the movie and is more grounded in reality than her acquaintances think her to be.
The film also acts as a melting pot for different genres. It commences with cloudy sky and fast editing, smoke emanating from the chimneys of what seems to be factories. The character first introduced to the spectator is essentially a femme fatale. Thus, the film seems to be a mystery thriller. When 223 and his love-sickness is introduced, the atmosphere remains the same, mostly because he is a policeman. Strangely does Wong change the film into a bizarre yet delicious concoction of romance, humour, depression and thrill. The shift is effortless and delightful and the fruit in the form of the adrenaline-inducing amalgamation is, yet again, a representation of the ineluctable metamorphosis. Like city, like citizens.
“Chungking Express” is an exercise in spontaneity. Even the tiniest of its background details are now iconic. From Wong’s decision to create it while waiting for certain pieces of equipment needed to finish “Ashes Of Time”, to Faye Wong’s superstar tantrums; from editing blues and the first Hong Kong show to the existence of “Fallen Angels” as a manifestation of a then-discarded third story of solitude, the entirety of what is shown on screen and what happened behind it has become legendary. What remains true is the fact that the movie is created out of impulsive brilliance, and not even Wong shall be able to repeat such autoschediasm ever again, even in the reportedly planned sequel.
“Chungking Express” is, thus, a melancholic story of Hong Kong and its citizens, who share amongst themselves traits and grief. The greatly spontaneous film is an electrifying blend of genres and an audiovisual delight, and ranks amongst the greatest works of Wong Kar-Wai.
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