X-Men: Apocalypse (2016, PG-13)

I’m still trying to decide about this movie.  I don’t think it was as good as Days of Future Past, and I think First Class was better-made, even though I think Apocalypse equals that one for entertainment value, or is at least close to it.  There’s some definite clunkiness amid a number of strong performances and a handful of stellar sequences.

In keeping with the franchise’s new tradition of jumping 10 years with every film, we’ve hit the ‘80s now (not that anyone looks any older, and no one but Mystique and Wolverine has explicitly-stated reasons for their perma-youth.  Also, at this rate, they have one film to go before Xavier and Magneto need to look like Patrick Stewart and Sir Ian McKellen again – is it just a switch that gets flipped one day?)  The Professor’s school is well-established and, after the events of Days of Future Past, mutants and humans are enjoying a time of relative peace.  However, a blast from the past – namely, an immortal, all-powerful mutant from ancient Egypt who positioned himself as a god – has just resurfaced to wreak major, world-ending havoc, and it’s up to heroes new and old to stop him.

Some of the action here is really impressive.  I love the big final battle, which finds a great balance between the various characters and their unique powers, and Quicksilver has another terrific speedster scene – I honestly can’t say which I like more, this one or the one from Days of Future Past (unfortunately, this is the only sequence in which the character really feels like the same Quicksilver.  I know it’s been 10 years, but it’s weird that he’d change thatmuch.  It feels wrong not to have him bouncing off the walls in most of his scenes.)  I love most of the casting for the new characters.  Sophie Turner (Sansa from Game of Thrones) makes an excellent Jean Grey, and the end of the film has me excited to see where things are going with her character.  Tye Sheridan does a nice job with Cyclops and, although Kodi Smit-McPhee is no Alan Cumming, he’s very good as young Nightcrawler, and he looks great.  Alexandra Shipp has all the makings of a wonderful Storm, but I don’t think she’s used very well here – I know I definitely wanted more from the story than I got for her.  All the old guard turn in good work, especially (no surprise) James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender.

The story, for me, is just all right.  Apocalypse is a little too “non-specified all-powerful megalomaniac” for me, and while Oscar Isaac (Poe from the new Star Wars) gives it his all, the script doesn’t give him much to work with.  Most of the newcomers’ storylines feel at least a bit shortchanged, and Magneto’s arc somehow feels both repetitive and unbelievable at the same time, which really shouldn’t happen.  Also, this is maybe a little thing, and I know there are lines in the movie to explain it, but it bugs me that Mystique and Beast spend so much of the movie looking like Jennifer Lawrence and Nicholas Hoult.  It feels disingenuous to the characters, like the film wants them more recognizable (especially J-Law) for monetary reasons; just didn’t work for me.

Warnings

Comic-book violence, swearing, drinking, naked Mystique, and thematic elements.

A Few Thoughts on Alice Through the Looking Glass

I saw this film with a friend the other night, and while I certainly wouldn’t call it a good movie, it’s also a somewhat frustrating one, because it contains a handful of strong points – elements that, if pursued more deftly, might have resulted in a much better film.  That’s what I want to look at today, things that I feel went both right and wrong.  (Note:  I’m sticking strictly with the movie here.  The current allegations against Johnny Depp are another matter.)  A few spoilers.

General complaints first.  It feels disjointed to me that the movie’s look is one of wonder and whimsy while the overall storyline is bogged down by family drama.  Season 1 of Once Upon a Timesold the Mad Hatter as a tragic (yet dark) figure, but try as Alice Through the Looking Glass might, it really can’t pull off the same.  All the sad eyes feel forced, the familial fallings-out feel too tritely-written, and the prevailing tone of the whole thing just feels out of place.  (Also, speaking of Once Upon a Time, the Queen of Hearts’s childhood origin story makes Regina’s villainous motivation seem almost rational.)  To couple the father-son, sister-sister angst with the technical visuals and bonkers silliness of Wonderland doesn’t work for me.

As with the first film, the less you know about the book, the more sense the story makes, but I don’t begrudge it that.  After all, it was sold from the beginning as a revisionist version of Alice’s adventures.  Besides, I’m not so attached to the book that I mind all the changes, and it’s not like the book would give too much of a cohesive story arc for a film to work with, anyway.  While some of the newly-imagined plot, like Hatter angst, doesn’t interest me, others, like Hero!Alice, are pretty neat.  On the latter front, Alice’s transformation into a BAMF is written a little too obviously at time, but I like the general idea of it, and some of it comes off really well.  The opening scene, wherein Alice (now traveling the world in a ship left to her by her late father) escapes a band of pirates due to her knowledge of the sea, creative thinking, and sheer nerve, makes me very happy, and that combination of smarts and bravery serves her well when she gets back to Wonderland.

It’s interesting to me that every scene set in our world is basically, “Boo, Victorian misogyny!  Go feminism!”  It’s not surprising that Alice would receive pushback from her way of life there, and that it would be hard for her to combat something she can’t solve like a riddle or fight with a sword; I was definitely a little impressed when, mid-film, a Victorian doctor declares her to suffering from “female hysteria.”  That said, this storyline is also written too on-the-nose at times, and I don’t think the threads between Alice’s struggle for independence in England and her heroic journey in Wonderland are drawn quite clearly enough.  Again, I feel a real disconnect between the different parts of the film.  There are good pieces that don’t seem to blend organically into the whole.

My last check in the plus column is some of the stuff surrounding the personification of Time.  All the time jokes (a la “Why is it you wait for no man?”) feel very Lewis Carroll, and while it doesn’t quite make sense for Time to have a clock in his chest, since the use of timepieces to mark its passage is a box that we humans stuff time into, I do love the rooms filled with hanging pocket watches in his castle, each one representing a different person making their gradual way toward ticking their last – a cool idea, and a really gorgeous image.  I also enjoy the general theme of the time-travel plot, the ultimate idea of learning from the past rather than changing it.

Relationship Spotlight: Strika & Agu (Beasts of No Nation)

This is maybe an odd relationship to write about from this movie, since the totally frakked-up, bizarre father-son Stolkholm Syndrome relationship between the Commandant and Agu is clearly the center of the film.  However, as understated as the bond between Agu and Strika is by comparison, for me, it’s the film’s heart (some spoilers.)

In a way, Strika is just one more piece of the paradoxical honey trap that is the Commandant’s forces.  While the Commandant steps forward as a twisted father figure to fill the void of Agu’s recently-murdered father, Strika is offered up as a sort of surrogate brother.  Many of the other soldiers are older than Agu and intimidate him, but with Strika, there’s a chance that he might prove a friend to Agu.  And so, this boy becomes another element luring Agu into a false sense of belong, kinship, even normalcy.  Playing with Strika, fighting alongside him, and seeing how he cares for Agu, the hooks of the rebel army sink deeper into Agu’s skin, making it that much harder to run away.

Despite Strika’s youth, he’s a more “seasoned” soldier than Agu is and is therefore a good choice to further indoctrinate him into the army.  Strika has already been pulled under the Commandant’s riptide, and he’s hardened himself to the blood that’s stained his hands.  He can show Agu the ropes and watch his back when they’re in a hot spot.  It would be hard for Agu to compare himself to the older, bigger soldiers, but looking at Strika, you can see how Agu might think, “I could be like him.”  It’s certainly in the Commandant’s best interests that Agu and Strika become friends.

But it’s more than that, because no matter how advantageous it is for the Commandant’s machinations, the friendship that forms between Agu and Strika is true, and the Commandant can’t touch that.  In some stories, Agu and Strika might have given one another the will they needed to break free and escape the army, but here, they’re instead one another’s means of clinging on.  They talk – or rather, Agu talks, while the mute Strika communicates in other ways – skirting around the enormity of the issues that have upended their lives.  They doplay, finding flashes of moments in which they can feel like children and, maybe just for a minute or two, forget the horror of their existence.  They protect each other, both physically and emotionally.  After the abuse Agu suffers, you know that he needs more than the quiet, non-judging companionship Strika gives him, but it’s all either of them have, and so they figure out how to sustain Agu with it.

Beasts of No Nation is a heavy film with many hard-hitting scenes, but the one that gets to me the most is easily the last scene shared between Agu and Strika.  In a cruel, violent, unjust world in which people exploit them and risk their lives in the name of someone else’s agenda, in which no one cares whether they live or die, they care about each other.  In the midst of all the darkness, brief points of light.

Favorite Characters: Bucky Barnes a.k.a. The Winter Soldier (The Avengers)

(Bucky-related spoilers, including Captain America:  Civil War.)  When I first saw Captain America, Bucky was just so-so character, mainly coasting on Sebastian Stan’s performance.  It wasn’t until The Winter Soldier that he came alive for me, both in that film and retroactively in the first movie.  By the time Civil War finally came out, he was one of my favorites.

At first blush, Bucky in Captain Americafeels like little more than a plot device, Steve’s best friend who becomes a tragic casualty of WWII, and it’s true that he has a lot more going on as a character in the later movies, but there’s still some good value here.  I like that Bucky appears so out of Steve’s “league,” friendship-wise, before the super-soldier serum turns Steve into Cap, but he doesn’t treat Steve that way.  Right from the first, it’s clear that their friendship goes deep.  It’s also important to establish him as a brave all-American boy who likes to have fun, because when he comes back in the later films, we need to see how thoroughly he’s been changed.

‘Cause Bucky has it rough.  Loses his arm and nearly dies after a fall from an elevated train.  Taken by the enemy and experimented on, giving him a bionic arm and powers similar to Cap’s.  Brainwashed and sent on wetwork missions, committing acts that would horrify him in his right mind.  Held in cryogenic stasis between missions to keep him a viable asset for almost 70 years, routinely wiping his mind and subjecting him to further brainwashing.  Because of all this, formidable as he is in The Winter Soldier, he’s always more of a weapon than a villain.  I love the way he fights like an absolute animal when he’s activated, because it demonstrates how much he’s not his own person at that point.  He does insane stuff, even for a powered person, and he just keeps coming relentlessly.  There’s no sense of self-preservation or falling back to regroup, because the fascists who’ve been playing with his brain don’t leave any room for that.

Naturally, the whole thing wrecks Steve, and it’s through his sheer belief in Bucky’s buried humanity that he’s able to break through Bucky’s programming and help him start down the path of returning to himself.  By the time we catch up with Bucky in Civil War, he’s done a lot of work to regain a sense of who he is.  However, now that he’s out from under Hydra’s thumb, some want him to answer for the crimes he committed as the Winter Soldier, as well as other crimes attributed to him.  On the run, fighting those who try to take him in, trying to keep his past from creating any further damage in the world – the prevailing impression I get from Bucky in this film is that he’s just tired.  Running, fighting, being used, over and over, and even as he keeps on going, it’s clear he’s running on empty.  In addition to the physical demands and threats, he’s also dealing with the weight of his past, exacerbated by seeing Steve again.  As much as Steve wants to believe in Bucky and will never give up on him, he’s also wary, untrusting of Bucky, and Bucky more than once has to prove he’s in his right mind before Steve starts to let his guard down.  No judgment on Steve – given what’s been done to Bucky, it would be irresponsible to do otherwise – but it’s still a harsh reminder of what Bucky has been made into.  And even Steve’s unconditional support is hard for Bucky to take, seeing Steve and others endanger themselves for his sake when Bucky doesn’t feel he deserves it.  Despite literally having had his free will taken away in an invasive, torturous manner, Bucky still holds himself accountable for his actions and carries the guilt of them.  Incredible character drama, and I’m loving every second of it, but I hope that, at some point, we can see Bucky getting at least a minute of relatively uncomplicated peace and/or happiness.  He’s long overdue.

Dear Hollywood Whitewashers: Ewan McGregor (The Impossible)

This is going back a few years now – The Impossible came out in 2012 – but seeing Tom Holland as the new Spider-Man in Captain America:  Civil War, reminded me of this film, where he played the teenage son of the central family in the film about the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami in Thailand.  Now obviously, Tom Holland isn’t Thai, and neither are the actors playing the rest of the family, including Naomi Watts and Ewan McGregor.  However, while it’s fair to acknowledge that the film is specifically about a family of tourists vacationing in Thailand when the tsunami hits, it’s based on the true story of a Spanish family’s experiences.  The film casts white UK actors in the roles, anglicizes the characters’ names, and gives them English accents.

There’s a lot going on here.  The fact that the movie is about a major natural disaster in Asia and doesn’t provide any Asian perspective is a clear issue, and even once the film moved Asian people out of the foreground, focusing instead on tourists, the nationality and complexions of the actual tourist family they were talking about weren’t considered “universal” enough and so we wound up with a white English family instead.  I’ll be looking mainly at the first issue in this post, since that’s the issue Ewan McGregor regrettably tries to discount in this quote: 

“The truth is, it’s a story about this family, this western family, who are on holiday there.  And that story is many, many people’s story.  But to say that it doesn’t tell the Thai people’s stories…  Naomi’s character is saved by a Thai man, and taken to safety in a Thai village where the Thai women dress her.  It’s one of the most moving scenes in the film, really.  In the hospital they’re all Thai nurses and Thai doctors – you see nothing but Thai people saving lives and helping.”

Sigh… I get that actors don’t want to burn any bridges against their studios, and really, when white actors agree to take roles like this, they’re at the very least complicit in what’s going on.  Still, it saddens me when people I like say these sorts of things.  It never, never makes them look anything resembling good.

So, Ewan, I’ll grant you that the story is “many, many people’s story,” in that there were many tourists in Thailand when the tsunami hit.  However, that large number of tourists still pales in comparison to the number of Thai people with their own stories to tell (who probably didn’t get the same priority medical treatment as the injured white tourist.)  It’d be a bit like making a Holocaust film about a Jehovah’s Witness in a concentration camp; yes, some people in concentration camps were Jehovah’s Witnesses there, but the vast majority were not, a fact very widely accepted in Hollywood.  Although, even that story would be preferable to this one, since many films have been made about Jewish people during the Holocaust and so the occasional story about non-Jewish people wouldn’t constitute erasure.  However, there isn’t a wide body of films about the Indian Ocean tsunami that tell the stories of the people principally affected by it, and so, a high-profile movie that tells an outlier story is going to be much more conspicuous.

Because all those Thai people in your movie are serving the white characters’ story.  They’re there for storytelling utility, not as real characters.  None of them have names or fears/struggles of their own that are more than backdrop.  That’s what people mean when they say the film “doesn’t tell the Thai people’s stories,” and to argue otherwise is disingenuous at best.

V for Vendetta (2005, R)

After going back to read the graphic novel, I thought it was high time I watched this film again.  While it’s very different from the book, I still like it a lot.  In fact, I think I still might prefer it to the book, and not just because I saw it first.

As in the graphic novel, Evey Hammond’s life is forever changed by a chance encounter with an enigmatic masked man called V.  Saving her from danger at a crucial moment, V makes Evey witness to the first stage of his plan to dismantle England’s fascist government, at the same time taking his revenge on the powerful people who committed atrocities against him years before.  Evey is torn between her fear of the compelling terrorist and a desire to see the change he promises.

Like I said, there are a lot of alterations here.  Overall, the story feels much more streamlined, keeping the main focal points on Evey, V, and Finch, the investigator trying to apprehend him.  A fair amount of plot development on the other side, the goings-on of the various government departments complete with corruption, backstabbing, and secret agendas, has been excised, and for the most part, I don’t mind the loss.  However, the condensing of some big framework stuff – the backdrop on the rise of the fascist government in England, and the exploration of undesirables under the new order – feels more “bite-sized” in the movie, more simplistic with clearly-drawn lines between points A, B, and C.  In that case, the snipping doesn’t work as well for me.

V, though, is just as cool as he is in the book.  Maybe a skosh less remote, but still every bit as theatrical, complicated, and mysterious.  Hugo Weaving does a great job with the character, such that you really don’t mind that his facial expressions are hidden behind a Guy Fawkes mask the entire movie.  I think I like Evey a little better here; I spent much of the book feeling frustrated with her and wishing she was stronger.  In the film, she still goes through quite the journey and changes a lot as a character, but she starts changing in small ways almost immediately (it helps that much of the “sexual survival” stuff I complained about from the book is either gone or very understated.)  Natalie Portman balances Evey’s fragile beginnings with her endurance and powerful transformation very nicely.

Plenty of familiar British faces getting in on the action.  John Hurt himself is England’s chancellor, and between the police and the government departments, we get Roger Allam (Peter from The Thick of It,) Rupert Graves (Lestrade from Sherlock,) and Ben Miles (Patrick from Coupling.)  But for me, the supporting-character MVP is Stephen Fry as Evey’s boss, a popular media personality who’s much more than he seems at first.  He has a great scene with Evey that I remembered from my first viewing of the film, years ago, just as well as the excellently-realized big moments, like V’s opening act or the prison sequence.

Warnings

Strong violence, sexual content (including references to pedophilia,) language, and strong thematic elements (including war crimes.)

Notes on “That Scene” in Black Swan

If you’ve seen Black Swan, you know what I’m talking about.  If you haven’t, 1) there’s a good chance you’ve still heard of the scene, and 2) this is your official spoiler warning.  I myself had heard of it before I saw the film, and it in fact added to my interest in seeing it, but afterwards, while I thought the scene itself was cool and well-done, I found it problematic within the greater context of the film.

The scene in question, with a little added backdrop, is this.  Nina has been working herself ragged trying to portray the thrilling, seductive Black Swan character in Swan Lake, and her director takes every opportunity to remind her that, in order to dance the part, she needs to tap into her darker impulses, and as is, she’s too “pure” and “fragile” to embody the character.  Trying to take that advice, she defies her obsessively-controlling mother to spend a night on the town with fellow dancer Lily, who’s everything Nina thinks she needs to be as the Black Swan.  Under Lily’s influence, Nina finally lets loose, drinking, getting high, and dancing in a club instead of in a rehearsal studio.  When they head back to Nina’s apartment, they lock themselves in Nina’s bedroom.  With an aggressively hungry look, Nina approaches Lily and they begin to make out.  Lily pushes Nina onto the bed and goes down on her, and Nina is sexually gratified for almost certainly the first time in her life.

Like I said, the scene is well-shot and effective.  Prior to Orange is the New Black and Game of Thrones, I’d noted multiple times how sterile and off-camera virtually every female/female sex scene I’d ever seen seemed to be, and this was a definite exception: steamy, non-coy, and, due to Nina’s increasingly-intrusive hallucinations, kind of trippy.  (Side note – generally speaking, I’d rate Orange is the New Black’s female/female sex scenes much higher than Game of Thrones’s, since the latter’s tend to feel much more exploitative and male-gaze-focused.)  However, its implications within the rest of the film give me pause.

First, it takes the already-troubling idea of the Black Swan into even more uncomfortable territory.  The Black Swan is the White Swan’s evil twin, and other than the different color and the scary makeup, literally the only way Nina’s director describes this inherent darkness and danger is through the Black Swan’s seductive sexuality.  In contrast with the gentle, virginal White Swan, it’s the Madonna-whore complex cranked up to eleven.  Equating female sexuality with “evilness” or “darkness” is such an ugly notion, anyway, but when Nina gets in touch with her “dark side” by sleeping with a woman, it mixes in an extra helping of the damaging idea that LGBTQ sexuality is more “sinful” than its heteronormative counterpart.  It reminds me of the very unfortunate period of House in which the bisexual Thirteen has one-night-stands with women when she’s in a self-destructive downward spiral and monogamously dates her (male) coworker Foreman when she’s in a better place emotionally.

The scene is further complicated by the fact that it apparently didn’t happen; when Nina tries to talk to Lily about it the next day, the other dancer is puzzled and ultimately realizes that Nina must have had a “lezzie wet dream” about her.  So sleeping with Lily isn’t just representative of Nina’s “dark side” – it’s also a drug-induced fantasy and/or further evidence of Nina’s actual descent into madness.  This is female/female attraction as a metaphor, and not an encouraging one, rather than simply a trait of the character, and that bothers me.

Beautiful Boxer (2004)

This is a flawed but interesting film about an even more interesting true story.  Beautiful Boxer chronicles the early life and fame of Nong Toom, a transgender teenager in Thailand who pays for her transition surgery by joining the world of professional Muay Thai kickboxing.  (Note:  the main character’s name is given as both Nong Toom and Parinya Charoenphol.  However, she uses a variety of names in and out of the ring, and for the sake of simplicity, I’m going to use “Toom.”  That would normally give me pause, since it’s her birth name, but even the real boxer’s Wikipedia page regularly uses it, so I think it’s probably okay?  No offense intended.)

From a very young age, Nong Toom realizes she isn’t a boy like everyone thinks.  Due to her family’s poverty, she thinks that having gender reassignment and “becoming a real woman” is just a pipe dream, until she discovers an unlikely talent:  Muay Thai.  She’s by no means a naturally violent person, but the promise of quick money through competitive kickboxing draws her in and she joins a training camp in the hopes of providing for her parents and funding her transition.  Along the way, she becomes hugely famous for her “gimmick” of wearing makeup in the ring.

It’s that last part that intrigues me the most.  Toom’s trainer is anxious to discover a boxer with a “hook,” and Toom’s secret love of makeup and female clothes seems to provide just that.  She’s a sensation, gaining instant notoriety and sparking debate over whether it’s just an act for publicity or if she’s a real “transvestite” (that’s the word the movie continually uses, although I’m not sure if that’s the actual concept they mean or if it’s just what they picked for the English subtitles.)  At first, it looks like it means Toom gets to be herself in the ring, but it’s a very limited, exaggerated “version” of herself, one that spurs scandal and mockery.  Not to mention, obviously, it’s motivated by someone else’s need for a gimmick and thus ripe for exploitation.

The toxic masculinity on display is both potent and ugly.  The more stereotypically-feminine Toom looks or acts in the ring, the harder her opponents kick her.  They shout transphobic insults at her and constantly try to tear her down, try to make her afraid of them, but these actions reflect their fears, not hers.  Yes, part of it is the self-assurance that they won’t be beaten by a “transvestite” coupled with the paradoxical terror that they will, just as part of it is a more general fear and hatred of what they don’t understand.  It’s so interesting that this brusque, hyper-masculine road is the one Toom takes to facilitate her transition.

While the themes are really neat (if, at times, conveyed a little heavy-handedly) and the Muay Thai is pretty cool, I’d say the overall quality of the film is a bit middling.  This is the first Thai movie I’ve ever seen, so I can’t say how it holds up comparably from a production standpoint, but it feels a little chintzy to me.  It’s like they have a good story but not quite the means to tell it properly, and that mutes its effect somewhat.

Warnings

Sexual references, boxing violence, language, drinking, and thematic elements.

Relationship Spotlight: Adan & Laila (A Stray)

If I recall correctly, the only other Relationship Spotlight I’ve done on a human-animal duo was Friendless and Brown Eyes from Go West.  I’ve gotta figure that, once I’ve done “a boy and his cow,” it’s only logical to circle back and do “a boy and his dog.”  Of course, in this case, we don’t see the “man’s best friend” dynamic at work in the typical way (some spoilers.)

Right from the start, Adan wants nothing to do with the dog that will eventually come to be known as Laila.  Not that he means her any harm – it’s a complete accident that he runs into her with his car, but if it weren’t the passing pedestrian who sees what happened urging him to do his Christian duty (figuratively speaking,) it’s hard to say what he would have done.  Would he still have taken her to the vet and then wound up getting stuck with her?  As it is, he at first argues to the pedestrian, “I’m not touching that!” and even as he begrudgingly acquiesces to helping Laila, he makes good on his initial claim:  he throws a spare shirt over her so he can retrieve her from beneath the car without touching her with his bare skin.

Because of dogs being unclean in Somali culture, this use of makeshift “barriers” whenever Adan has to touch Laila is a recurring theme.  He uses the shirt a lot, either specifically to pick her up or try and hide her when he doesn’t want someone to know he has a dog with him.  He also takes to carrying her around in a small duffel bag with only her head poking out, and even then, he has words with her when he thinks her head is too close to him, twisting the duffel bag around and exhorting her to “face that way!”  Eventually, he gets a leash for her and lets her run around at a dog park, but he freaks when he sits down on the grass to rest and she comes running up to him.

Laila, of course, is blissfully devoted to Adan.  No matter how clearly he conveys his alternating digust, wariness, and alarm, she adores him.  When he tries to drop her off somewhere, she trots after him until he gives in, and she deploys her puppy eyes with ruthless efficiency.  It’s such a great depiction of unconditional dog love, and it’s really sweet to see her gradually wear down his defenses.

But the operative word here is “gradual.”  Adan goes through a lot on Laila’s behalf and every fed-up “I’m done!” moment always ends with him taking her back, but that doesn’t mean it’s all sunshine and roses.  This might sound really awful, but I love that he continues to bag on her even as he finds himself caring for her, very tentatively starting to play with her, and even naming her.  In a casual, offhand tone, he keeps up a running commentary reminding her that she’s ugly, has no brain, and is completely useless as a pet.  It’s something about that curmudgeon/softie dichotomy, because although he does take care of her and gets his life turned completely upside down on her behalf, it’s not because she’s won him over, not entirely.  Maybe it’s Adan clinging to his last vestiges of distance, putting her down to remind himself that he doesn’t like dogs.  It’s also worth noting that, while his words aren’t nice, his tone is fine.  He’s conversational, talking to her like a person even as he complains that dogs are stupid and have no language, and she doesn’t hear anything amiss in the sound of his voice.  I don’t know, but for whatever reason, it’s weirdly charming to me.

As Tears Go By (1988)

This was Wong Kar-wai’s first film, although I didn’t see it until fairly late in my Wong-jucation (probably because it’s one of the few that doesn’t feature the wonderful Tony Leung Chiu-wai – they didn’t start collaborating until his brief appearance at the end of Days of Being Wild, which came next.)  It’s pretty far down on my list of his films, but it really is interesting and well-made.  More than anything, it’s a testament to how jaw-droppingly gorgeous some of the later stuff is that I don’t rate this one higher.

Wah, a mid-level gangster, is on the brink – of pretty much everything.  Of moving up in his organization, of throttling his “little brother” Fly before the fellow gangster gets himself or Wah killed with his reckless behavior, of exploding from all his unvoiced (maybe even unrecognized) discontentment, and even of leaving all that behind him for Ah-Ngor, his sweet and beautiful cousin.  Ah-Ngor is a provincial girl who lives off the mainland, but poor health has recently brought her into Hong Kong, where she’s been staying with Wah.  The two have a strong, simmering connection, but she worries about the danger of his volatile way of life.  Wah is thinking about going straight for her, but there’s Fly to think of.  What will happen to his friend if Wah isn’t there to look out for him?

Most of my favorite Wong films don’t fall into the gangster genre, just as a personal preference, so even though this is a very goodgangster movie, I can’t compare it to something like Ashes of Time or In the Mood for Love.  Still, when done well, I can enjoy this type of film just fine, and this one is sterling.  Even though the plots are so different, it reminds me a lot of State of Grace, maybe because of the relationship between Wah and Fly?  It’s a nice realization of why a life like that could appeal to someone beyond thrill-seeking, power, or by-any-means-necessary dough acquisition – those ties run deep.  Fly’s hot temper and dubious competence can turn virtually any situation into a crisis, but Wah stands by him through thick and thin, whether that’s pulling him out of yet another jam or trying to slap some sense into him in the vain hope of keeping him safe for once.  The film delivers nicely on the romance front as well.  The love story is a bit basic, but it’s conveyed so effectively, with Wong’s classic romanticism already on fine display in the cinematography and music. 

As Wah and Ah-Ngor, Andy Lau (who went on to do Infernal Affairs, the Hong Kong precursor to The Departed) and the sublime Maggie Cheung (frequent Wong collaborator, most memorably in In the Mood for Love) are electric together.  Lau is a strong, subtle lead, and Cheung gives a beautifully introspective performance.  Jacky Cheung (he was also in Ashes of Time) is very memorable as the irrepressible Fly.

Fun fact:  this film is where I first heard the song “Take My Breath Away.”  After hearing it elsewhere, though, it took me forever to realize it was the same song, since most of the lyrics in this version are in Cantonese.  I just knew it always made me think of “that song from As Tears Go By.”

Warnings

Some fairly strong gang violence, sexual content, drinking/smoking, and thematic elements.