"Chungking Express," written by Asian auteur Wong Kar-Wai, is a romantic story set against the hyperactive streets of Hong Kong night life.
Released in Hong Kong two years ago, the movie garnered the top prize for best movie in the 1994 Hong Kong Movie Awards
"Chungking Express" however, is not a typical Hong Kong action film, full of cops and gangsters. The director, Wong Kar-Wai, says he chose to write a story about cops because he "... likes uniforms and serial numbers." It seems, however, to be a movie more about love, or its absence.
Most impressive of all are the glaring, fever-like images of desire and drug deals and some kind of escape from despair.
"Chungking Express" is, in fact, more memorable for its images than its story: the cans of pineapple rings next to the fish tank, the flooded apartment which seems (at least to the main character), to be crying, the pouring rain against the window where cop 663 (Tony Leung Chi-Wai) waits in vain, the violent, brilliant images as the woman in the blonde (Brigitte Lin) wig runs away from ambiguous figures, and the slow-motion anxiety of Faye and Cop 663 juxtaposed against an insane, heightened pace of people rushing by.
The movie was released by Quentin Tarantino's special distribution company called Rolling Thunder, under Miramax films and was much praised by Tarantino.
In an article in the film magazine "Sight and Sound," Tony Rayns says Chungking Express "leaves the average Tarantino dialogue looking like sitcom filler."
The two main characters, policeman 223 (Takeshi Keneshiro) and policeman 663, lose their girlfriends, and deal with the break ups in interesting ways.
Cop 223 buys cans of pineapple rings all with a May 1st expiration date.
If his girlfriend does not get in contact with him by that date, his birthday, he will realize that their relationship is officially over.
The neuroticism turns sentimental, when 223 goes to the store one day and finds that the cans with the May 1st sell-by date have been thrown out. He yells at the clerk for "ignoring the feelings of the cans."
When the day comes and he still has not heard from his girlfriend, he resolves to go out to a bar and fall in love with first woman he sees. This turns out to be a mysterious woman in a blonde wig, a heroin smuggler who spends the night with him (asleep, while he watches Catonese movies on television) in between wild drug deal shootings.
The second story deals with a counter girl named Faye, something of a punk rocker in appearance and a pop star in real life, and her affection for the Cop who frequents her snack bar every night.
His girlfriend, an airline hostess, leaves his keys and a letter at the diner's counter, but Faye (Faye Wayne) gets her hands on it before he does, finds out his address, and starts cleaning his apartment when he is not there.
She not only cleans, but she creates some kind of fantasy in his apartment, dancing around spinning airplanes, consumed by her favorite music. (One song on the soundtrack is Faye Wong's version of the Cranberries' "Dreams." It is really well done in Cantonese, her voice even cracks on key like O'Riordan's).
He is unaware of her strong attraction for him. The two main characters from the second story, Faye and Cop 663 are glimpsed in the first story, but it does not really connect to them.
So what does this movie have to say to the younger generation? We are the ones who are supposed to be cool?
Surely, we can relate to something, if not wishing we were in America (listening repeatedly to Mama's and the Poppa's "California Dreamin"), or figuring out our next drug escapade, then like the two stars, trying to get over the pain of a broken heart, and maybe not really understanding what is going on afterwards.
According to the film's notes: "The characters are pretentious, and we allow them to be, they are cool, without even trying. No matter how much they feel sorry for themselves, and how much they complain, they still have what we do not, their lives preserved on film.
They have strange ways of living, odd ways of showing love, (purging themselves through the finality of pineapples, secretly cleaning apartments when the owner is not there). Everything is fatalistic, but at the same time, the characters are just trying to figure out how to deal with themselves. Wong is just experimenting, trying to be happy.
Are they egocentric and self involved? Does this explain the extensive use of voice-overs? Or do they just realize that no one else is listening?
Wong says, "Nowadays people are more likely to talk to themselves than to others." They no longer sit around at tea parties saying witty things to each other in discourse dripping with sarcasm. The dialogue is still witty, but now they also spend a good deal of time talking to themselves, and pining away, tripping on time."
Like the rest we are restless, and we want to watch these people, who, lonely as they are, know how to keep themselves amused in some way, by rearranging someone else's belongings when they are not home, or measuring time by cans of pineapples, or talking to a dishtowel.
The set is too wild, too bright, the images intoxicating. The characters can not really see where they are going, and we want to watch.
Most all the scenes take place at night, Wong's favorite time, because all you can hear are the radios.
We get the feeling that not only Wong but the characters themselves are saving all these images for later, so on the plane to California, or wherever they go, they can obsess and think about how weird their life was, and how much they liked it, despite the loneliness and the pain.
"Chungking Express" was shown last night in Spaulding auditorium as part of the Dartmouth Film Society's summer series entitled "Cinema Cool."
