★★★
Wong Kar-Wai loves his characters, so much so that he would rather watch them grow and develop rather than insert them into actions scenes or other fantastical situations. He writes his characters with a complex set of emotions and sees where that leads them. He doesn’t betray them. He charts their course, and the destination may or may not be desirable. We can see this in Chungking Express, or his American production My Blueberry Nights. They can be deeply flawed, passionate, lonely, funny, optimistic and/or cruel. In Days of Being Wild, one of Wong’s breakout films, his characters possess the less desirable of these traits. Even with characters who are disagreeable or contemptible, there is something about them that yearns for goodness, a recognition of these flaws and an attempt to purge them, or at least tame them. Success is not guaranteed in a Wong Kar-Wai film.
Set in 1960s Hong Kong, Days of Being Wild revolves around the character York (Leslie Cheung) and his inability to commit to someone. He has a strained relationship with his mother Rebecca (Rebecca Pan), a former prostitute. We get few details about his childhood, but we can gather from his mother’s occupation that he has never seen a healthy relationship. As an adult, York easily talks his way into the hearts of women but can just as easily break off relationships. He states at one point that he will never know the one he truly loved until the end of his life. During the course of the story, we witness two of his attempts at forming a bond with women, but both end badly.
As the movie opens, he is seeing Su Lizhen (Maggie Cheung) but breaks up with her and eventually moves on to a dancer named Mimi (Carina Lau), before abruptly ending that relationship too. The story doesn’t limit itself to watching York slip in and out of relationships. What kind of effect does his behavior have on the women whose hearts he breaks? Su seeks companionship with a policeman, Tide (Andy Lau), who finds her in a moment of distress and comforts her. He walks with her for a while, and though a relationship between these two could emerge, we learn later that nothing comes of it. Likewise, Mimi also has to deal with picking up the pieces, but she is less equipped to handle the aftermath of her breakup.
Rebecca has long refused to divulge the identity of York’s real mother. After much prodding, York finally learns the truth and sets off to the Philippines to find her, thinking that such a meeting might heal him. He eventually meets up with Tide, who quit the police force to become a sailor. We gather that a relationship with Su never came to fruition. That Wong Kar-Wai would spend time hinting at a relationship and not follow through isn’t the same as introducing a plot thread and then clumsily dropping it. Wong suggests that Su was more effected by her breakup with York than we think, and that Tide is a little like York, aimless and seeking resolution, and going far to find it. Tide’s patrol through the dreary rainy evenings of Hong Kong’s streets reflected his own life. His change of occupation may provide the fulfillment he needs. How fitting that he would run into York in the Philippines.
Wong Kar-Wai is as much a visual artist as he is a storytelling artist. This is the first of his collaborations with cinematographer Christopher Doyle, a creative partnership that will go on to yield some visually arresting films. Hong Kong in the ‘60s is the perfect setting for this story. It takes place when Hong Kong was on the rise from its low-key British outpost beginnings, densely populated but before the congested metropolis of later decades. If Wong had set the movie in 1990, then removing all the pedestrians would have been too obvious. Setting the movie in the early 1960s, on the other hand, gives the movie a modern look, but a believable lack of people on the streets, something that is integral to the story. The lonely nights, Tide’s solo patrols, it all fits into the theme of dejection. When the plot shifts to the Philippines, York and Tide are out of their element.
The cast of Days of Being Wild is in keeping with Wong Kar-Wai’s penchant for casting singers. He likes what they bring to his stories. They appear more natural to him. Leslie Cheung, Andy Lau, Carina Lau and Jacky Cheung (as York’s friend Zeb) have had successful singing careers, and they bring their skills to fulfill Wong’s vision. They do so successfully under his direction, creating a vivid portrait of characters in pain. Despite their flaws, Wong loves them, but his love for his characters does not mean he can save them.
© 2018 Silver Screen Reviews
Set in 1960s Hong Kong, Days of Being Wild revolves around the character York (Leslie Cheung) and his inability to commit to someone. He has a strained relationship with his mother Rebecca (Rebecca Pan), a former prostitute. We get few details about his childhood, but we can gather from his mother’s occupation that he has never seen a healthy relationship. As an adult, York easily talks his way into the hearts of women but can just as easily break off relationships. He states at one point that he will never know the one he truly loved until the end of his life. During the course of the story, we witness two of his attempts at forming a bond with women, but both end badly.
As the movie opens, he is seeing Su Lizhen (Maggie Cheung) but breaks up with her and eventually moves on to a dancer named Mimi (Carina Lau), before abruptly ending that relationship too. The story doesn’t limit itself to watching York slip in and out of relationships. What kind of effect does his behavior have on the women whose hearts he breaks? Su seeks companionship with a policeman, Tide (Andy Lau), who finds her in a moment of distress and comforts her. He walks with her for a while, and though a relationship between these two could emerge, we learn later that nothing comes of it. Likewise, Mimi also has to deal with picking up the pieces, but she is less equipped to handle the aftermath of her breakup.
Rebecca has long refused to divulge the identity of York’s real mother. After much prodding, York finally learns the truth and sets off to the Philippines to find her, thinking that such a meeting might heal him. He eventually meets up with Tide, who quit the police force to become a sailor. We gather that a relationship with Su never came to fruition. That Wong Kar-Wai would spend time hinting at a relationship and not follow through isn’t the same as introducing a plot thread and then clumsily dropping it. Wong suggests that Su was more effected by her breakup with York than we think, and that Tide is a little like York, aimless and seeking resolution, and going far to find it. Tide’s patrol through the dreary rainy evenings of Hong Kong’s streets reflected his own life. His change of occupation may provide the fulfillment he needs. How fitting that he would run into York in the Philippines.
Wong Kar-Wai is as much a visual artist as he is a storytelling artist. This is the first of his collaborations with cinematographer Christopher Doyle, a creative partnership that will go on to yield some visually arresting films. Hong Kong in the ‘60s is the perfect setting for this story. It takes place when Hong Kong was on the rise from its low-key British outpost beginnings, densely populated but before the congested metropolis of later decades. If Wong had set the movie in 1990, then removing all the pedestrians would have been too obvious. Setting the movie in the early 1960s, on the other hand, gives the movie a modern look, but a believable lack of people on the streets, something that is integral to the story. The lonely nights, Tide’s solo patrols, it all fits into the theme of dejection. When the plot shifts to the Philippines, York and Tide are out of their element.
The cast of Days of Being Wild is in keeping with Wong Kar-Wai’s penchant for casting singers. He likes what they bring to his stories. They appear more natural to him. Leslie Cheung, Andy Lau, Carina Lau and Jacky Cheung (as York’s friend Zeb) have had successful singing careers, and they bring their skills to fulfill Wong’s vision. They do so successfully under his direction, creating a vivid portrait of characters in pain. Despite their flaws, Wong loves them, but his love for his characters does not mean he can save them.
© 2018 Silver Screen Reviews
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