| Two Hong Kong police officers find themselves looking for love in all the wrong places in Chungking Express, an intriguing mood piece from acclaimed director Wong Kar-Wai.
This stylish, meditative relationship drama consists of two nearly-unrelated storylines, the first of which starts off with Cop #223 (Takeshi Kaneshiro, from Zhang Yimou's House Of Flying Daggers), a hurting soul nursing a recent breakup with a never-seen ex-girlfriend, May. Taking into account the date of their breakup (April 1st), Cop #223 wants to hope the end of their affair was intended as a joke, and begins to obsess over the fragility of human relationships. He starts collecting cans of pineapple (May's favorite fruit), all with the exact same expiration date -- May 1st (which also happens to be Cop #233's birthday) -- and begins to muse in voiceover about the inevitable "expiration" of most good things in life. But then, after consuming thirty cans' worth of nearly-expired pineapple in one sitting because it's clear that his relationship with May is truly over, he goes to a bar to eliminate some fruit and make some room for booze...and sees The Woman In The Blonde Wig (Brigette Lin, in her final role before retiring from acting), with whom he had a fleeting, barely-remembered brush with while running down a perp the day before.
But TWITBW isn't looking for companionship when she sits down in that bar...she's looking for somewhere safe to hole up for the night. The previous day, her orchestration of a drug mule ploy (using Pakistani immigrants to smuggle illicit substances out of the country) went horribly awry when her flock of "mules" gave her the slip at the airport. Now missing her all-important product, she's become the target of her supplier, who's understandably upset at the prospect of losing his investment. Now, hunted and at her wit's end, she and Cop #223 find a perfect collision of interests: her need for a night's shelter and Cop #233's yearning for companionship.
 While this first section of the film traffics in the broad outlines of the Hong Kong crime genres (right down to Kar-Wai's heavily-stylized treatment of the film's brief bursts of violence, shooting them with an intentionally blurry, skip-framing process that fractures the image into a series of strobing, subliminal flashes), what the film is really trying to point out is how connections can be made in countless ways, how the stranger you bump into on the street one day can be your best friend -- or more -- the next. Which brings us to the film's second half...
in which we're introduced to another lovelorn officer, Cop #663 (the great Tony Leung), who frequents the eating establishment Midnight Express and whose manager (Piggy Chan) tries to set #663 up with his niece and worker, Faye (pop singer Faye Wong, in her acting debut). But #663 is currently seeing a hottie stewardess (Valerie Chow), and declines for the time being. Yet Faye finds herself attracted to the brooding #663 and when her uncle is given a letter by said stewardess to give to #663 (who keeps putting off picking it up), she gets curious and reads its contents, which also include a key to #663's apartment. Soon, in a fit of beguiling madness, she finds herself using the key to surreptitiously enter #663's apartment. Soon, she's tidying up the place, making subtle improvements, and even deleting answering machine messages from the stewardess. But #663 is so caught  up in his own interior monologues, he barely even notices the myriad of changes to his living quarters, even as he finds himself becoming quietly attracted to his quirky new friend.
It takes a certain type of performance choice to make the idea of mucking around in someone else's apartment while they're not home seem endearingly quirky rather than objectionable stalker behavior, but the fetching Wong makes Faye's strange, long-distance relationship with #663 unusually compelling. And as #663 begins to reciprocate Faye's shy attentions, the film blossoms into a tender dissection of the modern-day mating dance.
This being my first introduction to the cinema of writer/director Wong Kar-Wai, I was not entirely sure what to expect from this film, yet Chungking Express is a compelling, lushly-filmed study of fragile emotional connections made and lost and found yet again. While I still need another few viewings for the film to properly "sink in", even on a first viewing, it remains a fascinatingly enigmatic romantic drama that's always interesting to watch and absorb.
 Presentation
The film's 1.66:1 aspect ratio is presented in a mostly very fine anamorphic transfer that only suffers from a light haze of grain in some of the darker interior shots (check out the background during the meeting between #233 and TWITBW in the bar). Still, the hypnotically compelling cinematography by Christopher Doyle and Andy Lau looks wonderful. Equally fine is the 5.1 Cantonese/Mandarin audio, which leans obsessively on a particular song cue looping over and over ("California Dreamin'" by The Mamas & The Papas), which obtains a haunting, siren call of unrequited desires. Nothing to complain about here.
 Extras
An audio commentary by Asian cinema critic Tony Rayns is key in clarifying some of the more confusing aspects of the narrative and in providing a thoughtful analysis of the film's themes and recurring visual and narrative motifs. This offers a brisk, entertaining listen.
An Episode Of British TV Series Moving Pictures Featuring Interviews With Wong Kar-Wai And Christopher Doyle (12:11) is a too-brief chat with Kar-Wai, who hosts a visit to some of the locations used in the film, and Doyle, whose Hong Kong apartment was used for Cop #663's domicile in the film. There are some interesting thoughts provided by both men, but, again, this segment is too short to really satisfy.
The film's U.S. Theatrical Trailer (1:31) is included in anamorphic widescreen.
Lastly, there's an Essay By Film Critic Amy Taubin contained within the DVD's booklet that offers another thoughtful analysis of the film.
Bottom Line
Perhaps an example of a "Way Homer" movie (the kind that one "gets" on the way home), yet even if you find yourself puzzling over the fractured chronology and philosophical musings of the voiceover narrations, the film remains an intriguing, visually-stunning meditation on interpersonal connections.
|
