Days of Being Wild by Wong Kar Wai – A Tribute to 35mm film

Days of Being Wild by Wong Kar Wai

Days of Being Wild by Wong Kar Wai

My decision to catch Wong Kar Wai’s Days of Being Wild projected in 35mm film, as part of the latest “A Tribute to 35mm” programme from Broadway Cinemas, was a last-minute one. At first it seemed pointless to relive the nostalgia alone and two previous attempts at finding a partner-in-crime had fallen flat. Time was running out and most of the best seats were already purchased.

But then I caught myself. Was I really going to miss out on a Wong Kar Wai film starring every Hong Kong movie star in 35 mm projection? No, of course not. It would be like rejecting an invitation to a trip on a time machine. So to make a long story short, I bought a ticket.

As I lined up to enter the cinema at The One mall in Tsim Sha Tsui on the day of the screening, the cinema staff handed me a set of souvenirs: a “Tribute to 35mm” plastic folder, four Days of Being Wild still postcards and a piece of 35mm film print as a bookmark. I couldn’t be sure if the 35mm print was a still from Days of Being Wild or not, it doesn’t look like it. It was a delightful surprise nonetheless. (See the gallery below)

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The front row seat in which where I sat became a secret blessing in disguise. People that arrived late failed to obscure my view. It was the perfect distance to the screen, and that made it easier to view the film emulsion and the artistry of Christopher Doyle’s cinematography. Now, on with the review…

Days of Being Wild is a character study of Leslie Cheung’s character York, a rich rebellious playboy in 1960’s Hong Kong who learns that the ex-prostitute (played by Rebecca Pan) that raised him isn’t his birth mother. She refuses to tell York the identity of his real mother throughout his life, which shapes York’s bitter selfish flippant behavior. York’s actions affect the people around him, particularly two women, a reserved shop clerk named Su Li Zhen (played by Maggie Cheung), and an insecure club dancer Mimi (played by Carina Lau); and also two men, a dutiful police officer (played by Andy Lau) and York’s underachiever best friend (played by Jacky Cheung).

Days of Being Wild is more structured in terms of narrative compared to Wong Kar Wai’s later works. It’s an easy story to follow and a great introduction to viewers who haven’t seen a Wong Kar Wai film. Major themes in WKW’s works are all explored here: time and space, unrequited love, and rejection. Having seen all his feature films, it’s a very satisfying bookend to see where all these themes began. This time around I particularly noticed the thematic construct of how a selfish act from one person branches out into other people making selfish acts, hurting other people in the process.

The film’s star-studded cast oozes movie star charisma. Everybody fits the role they play and never does it feel like anybody is acting. Leslie Cheung commands the screen as the lead character. York is selfish, spoiled rich boy but what’s fascinating is the audience is given an inside look behind his devil-may-care attitude, exploring the reasons behind his violent outbursts and his playboy approach with women. Cheung sells it and makes York an interesting spectacle to behold.

I recall Andy Lau being a showy actor who preened a lot for the camera early in his career. It wasn’t till later in his career where he started to master how to use a close-up. But here he removes his “Andy Lau-isms” and plays the truth of the scene as the film’s most righteous character. Hence I stand corrected. Sorry, Andy Lau.

Carina Lau as Mimi is the unsung performance, giving a lot of depth to an otherwise bimbo character. Mimi loves York deeply and blindly, never wanting to entertain the reality that he is no good for her. On previous viewings, I found the Mimi character annoying but surprisingly this time around Lau’s performance spoke deeper to me than Maggie Cheung’s. Like the film’s themes, I’m sure which actor I notice will continue to change on future viewings as well.

Christopher Doyle’s cinematography puts sex in the air. No nudity is ever shown but the passion and heat is sensuously implied. Doyle’s photography tells the story with the subtropical humidity of a Hong Kong summer. Beads of sweat run down the actors’ faces, of whom all look thirsty constantly strutting around in their underwear in small Hong Kong apartments. There are a few rain sequences in the film where the 35mm projection particularly stood out that added to the film’s dream-like nostalgic look.

Watching the film again reminded me of the common Hong Kong criticism stating that Wong Kar Wai totally ignores the commercial aspect in his films, but here Wong clearly demonstrates he believes in the allure of movie stars. I thought about the many times Leslie Cheung combs his hair to a mirror in this movie and questioning why I had the patience to sit through it. The film’s last scene with Tony Leung’s gambler character getting dressed in his apartment, a new protagonist teased at the end of the film for a sequel that was never made, is another example. It’s too bad, for the very same financial reasons, we will never know where the story with the gambler was going to go. (Though one of my souvenir postcards suggests Tony Leung was meant to be a new love interest for the Maggie Cheung character.)

At the end credits played the theme song sung by Anita Mui, a Cantonese cover of Jungle Drums by Xavier Cugat. Mui belted out a deep sorrowful vocal like a 60’s nightclub singer. The song was both classy and eerie at the same time as the audience sat in silence, in sheer awe and profound respect of an era past. I thought about how Leslie Cheung and Anita Mui are no longer with us, how Wong Kar Wai and Christopher Doyle’s falling out and also the current diminishing state of Hong Kong cinema. The credits then reached its end, and in a flash, the film grain was gone and the digital projection returned.


It’s a shame that this event is only screening one Hong Kong film for 30 days only. I am sure more screenings would have filled up just the same. I also sincerely hope there are more 35mm prints of other Wong Kar Wai films or Hong Kong films that Broadway Cinemas can screen in the future. But for now,
Days of Being Wild in 35mm is a recommended experience for any Wong Kar Wai fans or cinemagoers nostalgic for reliving 35mm projection. Like I said, it was like going on a time machine. And as I’d imagine going on a time machine would be like, it was an exhilarating nostalgic ride that went by way too quickly.

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The Grandmaster by Wong Kar Wai

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The Grandmaster by Wong Kar Wai

The Grandmaster by Wong Kar Wai


NOTE: I’m going to try something different this time. I’m going to approach this as both a film review and a guide on how to enjoy this film. And by that, I mean the original cut of the film. Not the Weinstein version.

The Grandmaster chronicles the life story of Ip Man, Bruce Lee’s master. Set in 1940s Fushan, Canton province, the martial arts community, lead by northern stylist Gong Yutian (played by Wang Qingxiang), is retiring and holds a challenge to select an heir to bring southern martial arts to the north. The southern community elects Ip Man (played by Tony Leung), the shining newcomer, up for the challenge. Ip Man develops a friendship with Gong’s daughter, Gong Er (played by Zhang Ziyi). The story crosses two decades as Ip Man and Gong Er stand the tests of life. The Japanese Army invasion of Fushan forces Ip Man into poverty and he resettles in Hong Kong. A mutiny within the Gong family sets Gong Er on a quest for revenge. In a time where age-old tradition is being replaced with modernity, how much can one uphold their principles? Who will live to pass on their lineage?

Who takes 14 years to make a movie? Wong Kar Wai is truly one-of-a-kind. He’s the only filmmaker who can take unlimited time with financial support and a team that is willing to plunge to the depths with him to explore every little detail in his stories. Watching a Wong Kar Wai film is the cinematic equivalent of taking a warm bath loaded with multi-colored bath salts in a room full of lush oil paintings. Everything is a visualized metaphor. Feelings matter more than character, and you’re invited to indulge and feel your way through what’s happening. And boy, nobody can visualize a metaphor like Wong Kar Wai.

Phillipe Desourde’s photography and William Cheung Suk Ping’s art direction is top notch. People often attribute the credit to the cinematographer and overlook the fact that something has to be made beautiful in the first place to look beautiful on screen. The Golden Brothel and the train station sets are works of art.

Tony Leung’s Ip Man is portrayed akin to a normal gentleman. I’m the biggest Donnie Yen fan in the world and as good as he was playing a dramatized version of Ip Man, Tony Leung’s scholar-like image is closer to who Ip Man is in real life. On the kung fu side, Leung is not Donnie Yen but achieves the necessary physicality and fights more convincingly than the quick editing suggests. The subtle interplay between Tony Leung and Zhang Ziyi that teeters between a could-be romance and a genuine soul mate was played well too.

Speaking of which, this may be the best Zhang Ziyi role yet. She’s never been more likable in any other role I have ever seen her in. Gong Er is the film’s most relatable character, carries the most pathos and energizes the film by providing the audience someone to root for. When she fights, the stakes are high. There is a somewhat of a battle between fact and fiction within the film’s construct. It’s almost as if Gong Er, a fictional character representing tradition, brings the traditional tropes of what one may expect from a martial arts film. While Ip Man, on the other hand, is married to historical fact and delivering the film’s message. More on that later…

The fights are filmed tightly, but for a reason. Wong Kar Wai is interested in the details of the movements: the little twists, nudges and arcs where one gathers power that are all specific to each style of Chinese martial art. For people who are familiar with the basic concepts of Wing Chun, Baqua, Xingyi and Baijquan, it’s quite the rare visual treat as bigger movements usually bode better for onscreen fight choreography. For those who are not familiar, fear not! There is a Game of Death-like sequence where the film presents these different styles. Unfortunately, the oversaturation of Ip Man films (this is the fourth and there is a fifth coming soon starring Anthony Wong as an older Ip Man) really has limited the creativity in presenting Wing Chun as a martial art. It’s safe to say most audiences know what Wing Chun looks like now.

It sounds as though there are a lot of qualifiers for one to understand the film. The world of the film exists within the martial arts community of an older time, when people lived with their own set of rules and traditions. Wong Kar Wai is very interested in presenting these traditions, and watching how he’s filming the action, it’s like he’s trying to keep a record of it. Characters speak in idioms with multiple meanings underneath as martial artists spoke in that time period. There were some instances when I had an itch to rewrite some of the subtitles because they would translate the entire idiom literally to keep the subtext of the Chinese dialogue. That’s a noble effort, but it may prove difficult for English speaking audiences.

A detail I noticed between the early promotional posters to the actual movie poster was that the early ones listed the film’s title as The Grandmasters and the actual movie poster’s title is named The Grandmaster. It makes me speculate that there probably was a story decision amongst the creative team whether the story should be focused on Ip Man or all three masters. That was precisely what the narrative needed to decide on. Whether if I’m right or not, this is a case of a film that clearly has shot too much footage and was forced to be cut down upon its due date. The first cut was reportedly 4 hours and this really came apparent to me upon reflecting about the film. There seems to be a lot lost on the editing floor and this unwillingly creates gaps in the narrative.

If you’ll indulge me, here are some facts about Ip Man’s life that will help you with the film:

  •     Ip Man was born rich, collected rent from owning property and never worked a day in his life until later when the Japanese invaded and took his home in Fushan.
  •    He was offered a job to train the Japanese army and turned it down.
  •    He later escaped to Hong Kong because he was a member of the Guomingdang. His wife stayed in Fushan and it remained that way for the rest of their lives.

There is much to love about The Grandmaster. It is not a martial arts movie in the traditional sense in where its conflicts are solved by fighting. No, this is a story about legacy. It’s about the deeply embedded Chinese Confucian value of improving the quality of life for future generations by passing on our culture and heritage responsibly. Every character in the film is driven by this single motivation and each take it to different places. To quote a line from the film, (I’m paraphrasing) “A martial artist’s biggest enemy is life itself.” Ip Man is a grandmaster not because of his physical prowess, but because he stood up to life (which ended up being quite tragic) and kept to his grand vision of spreading Wing Chun. This eventually lead Bruce Lee creating Jeet Kune Do, spreading Chinese martial arts across the world. I really love the fact that someone made a film about this.

To be frank, all of the big budget revisionist history films and wuxia films in current Chinese cinema bore me. The big budget action films are getting louder and more repetitive. As for the historical epics, I value the importance of reminding the next generation of the past but it ultimately culminates an overwhelming sense of gloom across the nation and it affects how China is perceived internationally because of its hate-mongering nature. It’s emotionally tiring as a moviegoer annually sitting through films in which Chinese people suffer as filmmakers and producers check off every historical tragedy we’ve been through in the last century.

Wong Kar Wai manages to present an age-old Chinese value without a blatant sense of nationalism or bitter finger pointing. It made me proud as a Chinese. This is a higher level of artistic achievement than simply revising history. After all, as filmmakers and artists, what are we leaving behind to the next generation? Are we making films to remind people of the past so we can carry the anger? Is that the extent of our cultural capital? Or can we bring them to another place with emotional breadth and positivity?

That’s what ultimately won me over about The Grandmaster. It was made with a lot of heart with its microscopic attention to detail and delivers a sincere message. It maybe esoteric, and even downright alienating to some viewers, but the rewards are worth the effort!

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