Maggie Cheung at Metrograph: 2046

It is the sequel to end all sequels. Frankly, it is hard to imagine they were conceived together, yet Wong Kar-wai reportedly was already planning it while he was filming the masterful In the Mood for Love. They might sound radically different on paper, but the same longing and regret is present throughout Wong’s 2046 (trailer here), which screens as part of the Metrograph’s retrospective series Maggie Cheung: Center Stage.

In one sense, 2046 might seem like a ringer in the Cheung series, because she only appears in brief flashback scenes, but her absence thoroughly dominates the film. Chow Mo-wan has returned from Singapore and Cambodia, picking up his literary and journalistic career as best he can. He never saw Cheung’s Su Li-zhen again, but her memory clearly haunts. In fact, his unresolved feelings make him incapable of maintaining a healthy relationship.

Chow and Su used to meet in room #2046 of his residency hotel, so he requests the same number in Mr. Wang’s seedy, but assignation friendly Oriental Hotel (we are still in the mid-1960s here). However, he will settle for #2047. At first, #2046 is occupied by Lulu, a.k.a. Mimi, a callback from Wong’s Days of Being Wild. When she precipitously moves out (a not-so uncommon practice in Wang’s establishment), Bai Ling moves in. Chow definitely notices her and can often hear her entertaining through the thin walls (and vice versa).

For a while, they carry on an ambiguous something, but he can never give her what she needs. He also assumes the role of a flirtatious Cyrano figure for Wang Jing-wen, the owner’s eldest daughter, who conducts a secret long distance love affair with a Japanese man her father disapproves of, due to national prejudice. Chow cannot even make things work with the second Su Li-zhen, a mysterious professional gambler who saves his skin in Singapore.

Yet, Chow himself duly notes, the women who lose patience and exit his life often turn up in his fiction, particularly his science fiction stories, “2046” and “2047.” In this dystopia universe, 2046 is ambiguously both a time and a place of stasis, reachable by a train staffed with sexually compliant automatons (two of whom look like Wang Jing-wen and Lulu). Heartsick lovers often travel there to revisit past memories, but nobody ever came back, until Tak (a dead ringer for Wang’s Japanese lover) embarks on a return trip.

When seen in close succession, Mood and 2046 pack a mean one-two combination punch. We definitely miss Cheung’s Su, but that is the whole point. We also fall hard for Bai Ling, Wang Jing-wen, and the second Su, yet we understand exactly why Chow is so emotionally hobbled.

Even with his Errol Flynn mustache, “Little” Tony Leung Chiu Wai just radiates broken-hearted weariness. He has panache, but he cuts a rather gloomy, existential figure. However, it is Zhang Ziyi who really gives viewers a kick in the teeth as the radiate but heart-rending Bai Ling. Arguably, Faye Wong covers an even greater spectrum as the more upbeat Wang Jing-wen and the exquisitely tragic gynoid. Carina Lau makes the most of her diva turn as Lulu, but Gong Li is an outright showstopper as the Singapore Su. Nobody else could wring so much intrigue and dark romance out of such limited screen time.

Production on 2046 was inconveniently interrupted by the SARS outbreak, but you would not know it from the finished film. It is seductively sad in a way that flows naturally from Mood, even during its flights of fantastical speculation. Without question, it features some of the best screen thesps of our time, working with one of the most distinctive international auteurs and accomplished cinematographers (Christopher Doyle, with an assist from the skilled Kwan Pung-leung), all of whom are working at the peaks of their creative powers. Very highly recommended, 2046 screens twice today (12/18) at the Metrograph, as part of Maggie Cheung: Center Stage.

Maggie Cheung at Metrograph: In the Mood for Love

Four years after Comrades: Almost a Love Story, Maggie Cheung once again starred as half of a not quite-romantic couple, whose lives would be symbolized by romantic pop music. Unfortunately, Sinatra’s “Change Partners” was not on either Su Li-zhen or Chow Mo-wan’s playlists when they discover their respective spouses have been carrying on a secret affair. As they struggle with this realization, they start to develop feelings for each other. However, everything will conspire against a turnaround-is-fair-play affair, most especially themselves in Wong Kar-wai’s In the Mood for Love (trailer here), one of the first straight-up classics of the 2000s, which screens as part of the Metrograph’s retrospective series Maggie Cheung:Center Stage.

Both Su (or Mrs. Chan, depending on the custom of those addressing her) and Chow move into spare rooms in adjacent flats on the same day. Coincidentally, both have been left by their partners to handle the move on their own. Renting rooms in strangers’ flats might sound grim, but this is 1962 Hong Kong. Real estate is just as scarce as it is now, but there was less wealth to drive development. Nevertheless, many look back on this time with nostalgia, as a uniquely social period in their lives, but for Su and Chow, it will be far more complicated.

Both Su’s husband and Chow’s wife travel abroad, which affords them ready alibis, but also means their exclusive gifts for each other are tell-tale signs. Since both betrayed spouses are intelligent professionals, they pick up on the clues rather quickly, but they are unsure what to do about it. Meeting secretly, they “rehearse” confrontations with their unfaithful partners are try to simulate key moments in the affair, for the sake of their own understanding. They also discover shared interests, including a fondness for wuxia novels. The audience can tell they would be perfect together, but reserved early 1960s HK society would not see it that way.

Wong never directly shows us Mr. Chan or Mrs. Chow, only affording them voiceovers and back-of-the-head shots, like Charlie in Charlie’s Angels and Robin Masters in Magnum P.I. It is a very effective strategy for controlling viewers’ perceptions and emotions, but we can’t help wondering what do these people look like that they could tempt their lovers into cheating on Maggie Cheung and “Little” Tony Leung Chiu Wai? Seriously, together they make one undeniably photogenic couple.

Regardless, Mood is an achingly romantic film, but it has a decidedly dark edge. Su and Chow are the aggrieved parties, but they do not necessarily always act with the best of intentions. They are both inclined to brood, yet we still cannot help wanting to see finally consummate their yearnings.

Wong always makes it clear how the confined spaces and nosy neighbors constantly undermine their forbidden feelings for each other. He regularly frames his co-leads through cramped passage ways and narrow doorways, powerfully evoking a sense of claustrophobia. He also crafts some arresting images in the process. Frankly, Mood is one of a precious few films, whose dazzling auteurist style actually brings us into the hearts and head-spaces of its characters, rather than keeping viewers on the outside looking in.

In terms of chemistry, Cheung and Leung are just stunning together. Reportedly, Mood and Comrades are two of a handful of films that really mean something personal to Cheung, which will make perfect sense to viewers judging from what is on the screen. They both give career-defining performances, but Rebecca Pan humanizes the messy situation even further as Mrs. Suen, Su’s well-intentioned but conservative mahjong-playing land lady.

Thanks to the stylistically dissimilar yet somehow consistently compatible cinematography of Christopher Doyle and Mark Lee Ping Bing (not to mention Cheung’s elegant cheongsam wardrobe), Mood always looks absolutely beautiful. The exquisitely sentimental love songs of Zhou Xuan, Nat King Cole, and traditional Cantonese Opera also make it sound wonderfully old-fashioned. It is easily one of the best films of 2000 (with its only real competition coming from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon). Very highly recommended, In the Mood for Love screens this Sunday (12/18) and Wednesday (12/21) at the Metrograph, as part of Maggie Cheung: Center Stage.

Wong Kar Wai’s The Grandmaster

Ip Man has become a transcendent hero.  All the films and stories about him are true, even when they contradict each other, because we need his example of heroic humility.  Ip was a master of the southern style of kung fu known as Wing Chun.  Settling in Hong Kong after the Communist takeover, he became the city’s most prominent martial arts teacher.  He often lived a hand-to-mouth existence, but he attained a measure of immortality through his celebrated student, Bruce Lee.  Posterity will not be so kind to the northern school, for classically tragic reasons revealed in The Grandmaster (trailer here), Wong Kar Wai’s eagerly anticipated take on Ip Man, the man and the legend, which opens this Friday in New York.

Born to a life of privilege, Ip Man has become the leading proponent of the Wing Chun school of kung fu.  For Grandmaster Gong Baosen of the northern 64 Hands school, Ip is a fitting sparring partner for his grand retirement tour.  In observance of custom, challenges are made and met with grace.  However, Gong’s intensely loyal daughter Gong Er is determined to take matters further.  When she and Ip spar, it makes a profound impression on them both.  No longer mere rivals, an ambiguous but palpable mutual attraction develops between them.  Ip plans to travel north to see Gong and her 64 Hands style again, but the Japanese invasion rudely intervenes.

The occupation years will be difficult for both non-lovers.  Ip and his wife Zhang Yongcheng will mourn their children who succumb to starvation, while Gong Er watches in horror as Ma San, her father’s last great pupil-turned Japanse collaborator, usurps the 64 Hands.  Years later, Ip Man and Gong Er will meet again in Hong Kong, but their wartime decisions will continue to keep them apart.

Considering how long fans have waited, it is almost impossible for Grandmaster to live up to expectations, but happily it comes pretty close.  Although separate and distinct from the Ip Man franchise distributed by Well Go USA, “Little” Tony Leung Chiu Wai has the perfect look and gravitas for the celebrated master, nicely finding his niche as the experienced leading man Ip Man, in between Donnie Yen’s young, confident Ip and Anthony Wong’s elder statesman Ip.  Pushed and prodded by Wong, Leung arguably does some of his best martial arts work yet, but he also conveys the essence of the acutely disciplined Ip.

As good as Leung is, Ziyi Zhang more or less takes over the picture and that’s totally cool.  She even gets the big pivotal fight scene, which delivers in spades. A haunting and seductive presence, she brings out genuinely Shakespearean dimensions in Gong.

As a martial arts film, Grandmaster offers plenty of show-stopping sequences, clearly and fluidly staged with only a hint of the extreme stylization that marked Wong’s Ashes of Time Redux.  Surprisingly though, the film is as much a lyrical epic of love and yearning.  Indeed, the snowy northern climes and train station settings call to mind Doctor Zhivago more than Enter the Dragon.  Of course, Wong fully understands the power of a passing glance and incidental touch, exquisitely conveying the perverse satisfaction of denial.

The Grandmaster is a very good film that should please genre fans and art house audiences in equal measure.  It is probably the Ziyi Zhang, Tony Leung, and Wong Kar Wai collaboration we have hoped for since 2046. A sensitive but muscular portrait of Bruce Lee’s great master, it is a worthy addition to the Ip Man canon.  Highly recommended, The Grandmaster opens this Friday (8/23) in New York at the Angelika Film Center and the AMC Empire.

Goddess: Ashes of Time Redux

Ouyang Feng is an agent for freelance swordsmen looking for some dirty work.  You could call him a cutthroat’s cutthroat.  Likewise, when it comes to love, he is a cynic’s cynic.  If you suppose a woman was the cause of his hardened heart, you would be correct.  It is a logical guess, considering Wong Kar Wai’s Ashes of Time Redux (trailer here) screens this Friday as part of the Asia Society’s film series Goddess: Chinese Women on Screen.

Instead of adapting Louis Cha’s epic novel The Eagle-Shooting Heroes, Wong conceived of an original pseudo-prequel that can be fully appreciated without prior familiarity with its inspiration.  Every year, the swashbuckler Huang Yaoshi pays a visit to his friend Ouyang’s desert home.  Both are men with complicated pasts.  For his latest visit, Huang brings a bottle of supposedly enchanted wine that is said to induce forgetfulness.  Huang imbibes.  Ouyang does not.

After Huang disappears, apparently under the effects of the potent drink, Ouyang carries on with business.  However, his next clients are somehow involved with his soul-sick friend.  Clan leader Murong Yang recruits Ouyang to murder Huang in retribution for spurning his sister, Murong Yin.  Soon thereafter, the sister tries to hire Ouyang to murder her compulsively controlling brother.  In a hallucinatory evening (which is par for the course in Ashes), Ouyang realizes Yin and Yang are the same divided person.

The seasons pass, but it is hard judge time in the desert.  Ouyang recruits a wandering swordsman to defend the village from a band of outlaws.  His skills are formidable, but he is rapidly losing his sight.  The man’s one desire is to see his native land once again before going completely blind.  Eventually, Ouyang also yearns for home, where the woman he once loved lives as his brother’s wife.

Redux is the restored and reworked de facto director’s cut of Ashes Wong oversaw when he realized how many dubious copies of the film were in circulation.  Featuring fight choreography by Sammo Hung, it is quite stylistically daring by martial art film standards, bordering on the outright experimental.  There is indeed a fair amount of combat, but the action is rendered impressionistically blurred, almost like a series of freeze frames.

As promised, there are also several divas, including Brigitte Lin in sort of a dual role as the Murongs.  Although she is always recognizable, Lin brings a conviction to both personas that keeps the audience off-balance.  Yet, it is Maggie Cheung who really lowers the diva boom as the woman from Ouyang’s past.  Emotionally devastating but never indulgent or showy, it might represent the best second for second cameo ever.  As a bonus, Charlie Young is a genuinely haunting presence as the peasant girl out to avenge her brother.

While the film’s color palette reportedly varies depending on its various editions, any retrospective of cinematographer Christopher Doyle’s work ought to start or finish with Ashes.  The golds and burnt-umbers of Redux are absolutely striking.  Frankly, Ashes Redux is a daring classic of the genre that might be new to a lot of people who might think they have seen it already (like a wuxia Bladerunner).  Highly recommended, Ashes of Time Redux screens this Friday (12/7) at the Asia Society.

Meet Ms. Jones Friday

Singers are stage performers, so one might expect them to be natural dramatic actors. Some, like Sinatra, certainly were. Others like Madonna, not so much. The jury is still out on Norah Jones, but she definitely surpasses expectations in Wong Kar Wai’s beautifully filmed My Blueberry Nights.

Wong seems to have set out to film a hipster vision of an Edward Hopper picture, with most of the action taking place in nocturnal haunts, like diners and bars. It starts with Jones’s heartsick Elizabeth looking for her soon to be ex-lover in his favorite diner, run by Jeremy, a British expat played by Jude Law. Much of their dialogue together sounds overly written, like a long exchange about the keys Jeremy holds on behalf of rejected lovers. However, Jones and Law do have on-screen chemistry. Their seemingly casual late nights spent over Jeremy’s underappreciated blueberry pies (hello title) prompt thoughts on the nature of time and attraction. How long does it take to really get to know someone and then to fall for them?

To work her ex out of her head, Elizabeth leaves New York and Jeremy’s diner, going on the road, where she works a series of waitressing jobs, meeting some very dysfunctional people. Particularly damaged is Arnie, a Memphis cop who doubles as the town drunk after his wife leaves him. In probably the film strongest performance, David Strathairn’s Arnie is both pathetic and unsettling in equal measure.

Eventually, Elizabeth’s wanderlust takes her to Nevada and another waitressing gig before joining forces with Leslie, a manipulative poker player. As Leslie, we see Natalie Portman acting all over the screen with little subtlety involved, but to be fair, her accent and flamboyance have an odd charm (not cloying like a Renee Zellweger in Cold Mountain).

The early festival reviews were not kind to Jones, but in truth she is pretty good in a challenging debut film. Wong’s style can be unforgiving for actors, shooting them in extended close-ups without dialogue and requiring them to emote as appropriate. Law and Strathairn easily turn in the film’s best work, while Jones keeps up reasonably well. Although not a perfect film debut, she shows real screen charm, if not exactly powerhouse chops. (She has certainly already surpassed Madonna’s acting talents, at least.) Evidently the film has been re-cut since Cannes and that might have helped.

Although never performing on screen, Jones’s music also plays a supportive role. “The Story” is a strong song and a perfectly fitting musical touchstone for the film. Ry Cooder’s themes and a licensed Cassandra Wilson recording also nicely contribute to the overall mood, and atmosphere is indeed where Blueberry is strongest. The real stars of the film might be the arresting colors and visuals of Wong and cinematographer Darrius Khondji. By it’s own admission (in a Jones voiceover), Blueberry takes a long, circuitous route to eventually get where it is going. Though flawed (particularly in a clunky script surprisingly co-written by mystery novelist Lawrence Block), Blueberry looks and sounds great. Ultimately, it has a certain romanticism that is compelling. It opens in New York at the Angelika this Friday.