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Film: The Virgin Spring
Release date: 28th October 2002
Certificate: 15
Running time: 86 mins
Director: Ingmar Bergman
Starring: Max von Sydow, Birgitta Valberg, Gunnel Lindblom, Birgitta Pettersson, Axel Düberg
Genre: Crime/Drama
Studio: Tartan
Format: DVD
Country: Sweden
Winner of the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film in 1961, Ingmar Bergman's The Virgin Spring is part of Tartan Video's extensive 'Bergman Collection' on DVD, along with the director's many other masterworks.
Set in the barren yet beautiful landscape of medieval Sweden, the film centres on religious land owners Töre (Max von Sydow) and Märeta (Birgitta Valberg) and their virgin daughter Karin (Birgitta Pettersson).
Karin is appointed to deliver candles to the church, requiring a day's travel on horseback. She sets off in the morning with her adopted and heavily pregnant 'sister' Ingeri (Gunnel Lindblom), a secret Norse worshiper. Jealous of the undeserving levels of affection given to the spoilt Karen, Ingeri prays to Odin for misfortune.
An altercation during the journey causes the pair to part ways. Karin continues alone and soon encounters a trio of mischievous herdsmen – two adults and a boy. Taken in by their charm, Karin invites them to join her for a picnic luncheon that ends with tragedy. Karin is raped and murdered by the two older men and robbed of her best outer clothing. She is left half buried in the clearing.
As the cold winter night draws in, the herdsmen unwittingly ask for shelter at Töre and Märeta's farm. Worried about her daughter not returning home for supper, Märeta's worst fears are confirmed when one of the herders attempts to sell her Karin's clothes. Töre decides to take revenge...
If The Virgin Spring's basic narrative is familiar to you, that's because it was used as the basis for Wes Craven's seminal, iconoclastic exploitation debut The Last House On The Left (1972) and its own subsequent remake of the same name released in 2009. However, despite this familiarity and its aforementioned Oscar success, The Virgin Spring is a frequently overlooked item in the Bergman catalogue. There are two possible reasons for this. The first is the film's position within the director's somewhat impressive oeuvre; coming a few years after the one-two-punch success of The Seventh Seal and Wild Strawberries (1957) – two of Bergman's most famous works – and just before his much lauded 'Faith Trilogy' – consisting of Through A Glass Darkly (1961), Winter Light (1963) and The Silence (1963).
The second reason stems from Bergman's own apparent ambivalence towards the final product, disregarding it as being “dreadfully triste” as the film introduces “a totally unanalysed idea of God.” However, it is perhaps for the same reasons why The Virgin Spring is one of Bergman's most endearing and powerful films.
While the film may not offer an analysed idea on God, it does offer an analysed idea on something far more tangible: the family unit. Töre is a firm but fair patriarch, but is forever lenient when it comes to his daughter's wishes; much to the chagrin of his far more devout and straight-laced wife Märeta, who believes in a well disciplined household. As a result, The Virgin Spring plays out like a grim fable about the naivety of youth, which is true to the roots of Ulla Isaksson's script, itself adapted from a 13th century Swedish ballad entitled ‘Töres dotter i Wänge’. It’s also a befitting match with Bergman's penchant for bleak, introspective subject matter, which is out in full force here.
As far as the acting goes, Max von Sydow gives Bergman yet another excellent performance (they worked together on thirteen films in total) that doesn't overshadow the rest of the cast. After all, a fair amount of the film's screen time is also dedicated to Birgitta Pettersson's Karin and her fateful journey. Having worked with her previously on The Magician (1958), Bergman coaxes a strong performance from the young Pettersson as well as Gunnel Lindblom as rival adopted sister Ingeri; creating chemistry fraught with barely contained disdain. The film's final act, however, definitely belongs to Sydow. The preparations for his act of vengeance are simply sublime; wrestling a lone tree to the ground to stock the farm's bathhouse with nothing but the sheer determination to do it is a deceptively powerful moment. His insistence on cleansing his body before shedding blood not only makes for a very good build up to the act itself, but is very telling with regards to his character's moral and religious values. Murder is unjustifiable, even if it is for a good cause, and it’s interesting to see the film take a decidedly grey stance on the matter. Töre's vengeance is not the cathartic dispensing of poetic justice that it’s intended to be. It is a grisly and barbaric affair that burns through his very being and Sydow plays it beautifully.
Sven Nykvist's camerawork is strong and quietly impressive throughout, capturing the inherent beauty and bleakness of the Swedish countryside whilst simultaneously hinting at the grim unpleasantness to come. And while said unpleasantness may be somewhat tame by today's standards, it still packs an emotional wallop to say the least; more so than Craven's more famous re-imaging. Mainly because of Isaksson's economic scripting as well as Bergman's insistence on giving the characters enough time to bond with the audience, without resorting to clichéd schmaltz, only to sweep the carpet from under their feet. The results are subtle, but have a profound impact on the overall experience, with Bergman deftly able to switch between sombre and tense atmospheres merely through conducting his cast to perform a certain look or facial expression. A scene where the murderous herdsmen dine with Karin's parents and their farmhands is especially well realised and brilliantly taut, with the youngest of the trio – an unfair accessory to the other men's crime – ready to crack and confess at any second.
While it lacks the portentous grandeur of The Seventh Seal or the experimental flair of Persona (1966), The Virgin Spring is still Bergman at his best, even though he would be inclined to disagree. The final scene – Bergman's biggest bugbear; maintaining that it was a last minute addition – does display a certain amount of religious whimsy but it befits the dark, fable-like style exhibited throughout the rest of the film, as well as offering a strange sense of overcoming. If God does exist, he certainly moves in mysterious ways.
The Virgin Spring is a compact yet masterful piece of filmmaking from one of the great exponents of world cinema. Its measured pacing, exquisite camerawork and brilliant performances render it a haunting and searing masterpiece. Also, the simplicity and familiar nature of the story makes it a perfect entry point for those who are new to Bergman's work. Highly recommended. MP
Film: Save The Green Planet
Release date: 21st March 2005
Certificate: 18
Running time: 113 mins
Director: Jang Jun-hwan
Starring: Shin Ha-kyun, Baek Yoon-sik, Hwang Jeong-min
Genre: Comedy/Drama/Fantasy/Sci-Fi/Thriller
Studio: Tartan
Format: DVD
Country: South Korea
In amongst the seemingly endless list of horrors and gangster films on Tartan Asia Extreme was Save The Green Planet, one of the more extreme releases and unlike anything else released at the time. It’s not the most violent. It isn’t scary. But it is compelling, daring and totally insane.
Byung-gu knows that the planet is danger. Aliens from Andromeda are threatening the Earth, and he has until the next eclipse, only seven days away, to stop the annihilation of mankind.
Together with his girlfriend, Sooni, he kidnaps the CEO of a large corporation, whom he believes to be an alien disguised as a human. But the CEO is not about to give up his secrets lightly and there’s only one way to be sure he’s the right man – torture!
As he attempts to extract information, and arrange an audience with the alien prince, Byung-gu will have to avoid the attentions of an ace detective and the fiendish telepathic powers of the alien.
Can he contact the alien prince in time? Or will his past and the true reasons for his actions stop him from saving the world?
It’s hard to fit Save The Green Planet into any category. It’s part sci-fi, part thriller, part horror. With elements of comedy, police thriller, revenge thriller, noir... the list goes on. The debut feature from writer/director Jang Jun-hwan strives to be unlike anything you’ve ever seen before, and largely succeeds. It’s visually stunning, superbly acted, with some outstanding moments of horror and suspense, with enough pace to leave the viewer exhausted.
With so many elements, and such a stark contrast between them from scene to scene, it can be difficult and sometimes frustrating to watch, but while the transitions aren’t seamless, they are handled with enough confidence by the first time director to keep the audience hooked (if not entirely ready to suspend their disbelief).
The film does fall down at the last hurdle, with the director seeming to become over-awed by his own creation, as he tries, and fails, to provide an ending in keeping with the frenetic insanity that has gone before it. Even though the film holds itself together (admittedly with some difficulty), it’s unable to withstand such blatant grandstanding, and the bombardment of morals and messages throughout the final act does nothing for the emotional core of the film.
Subtlety is not high on Jang’s agenda, and all the themes he wishes to express are laid bare crassly, rather than being portrayed with any sensitivity. It feels, at times, as though the messages have been shoe-horned into the drama, sometimes at the expense of it. Look out for a scene in which three people are killed while standing on a large green circle with the word “innovation” written in large letters in the middle for just one example. It’s a shame, as the film clearly has much to say about the nature of corporations, the sometimes selfish agendas of so-called environmentalists, and the state of working conditions in Korea. While these issues are not entirely lost, they are somewhat drowned out through sheer volume.
Fortunately the film works enough of the time to keep us entertained, and it shows enough promise that Jang is definitely a director to watch closely. The cast is uniformly excellent, in particular the ever-watchable Shin Ha-kyun (JSA, Sympathy For Mr Vengeance) who keeps us emotionally hooked as we learn why Byung-gu has snapped, and about the long road of despair that led him to this point. It is this character’s personal tragedies that shape the course of the film, as it is through these revelations that we begin to understand why Byung-gu is the way he is. Though the list of tragedy is perhaps too long, it is heart-breaking and manages to move without lapsing into melodrama.
The other stand-out performance comes from Paek Yun-shik as the torture victim. When we first meet him, he is drunk and abusive, and for the rest of the film, he is either tied up wearing just his underwear, or a dress. Despite this, and the various other indignities he suffers throughout, Yun-shik manages to give a performance of extraordinary charisma, and the ambiguous nature of the character comes through in every scene, alternating between victim and monster, keeping the audience in the dark as to his true motives. It’s no surprise that the best scenes in the film are when the two central characters share the screen.
With such remarkable performances, and some genuinely moving moments, it is almost sad to see the ridiculously ostentatious ending that comes close to ruining everything that we’ve just watched. Fortunately, there is enough fun, horror, action and suspense on offer that by the time we get there we are able to forgive Jang’s showing off. Just about.
What could have been a truly remarkable and subversive experience instead becomes a barrage of morals, and what was supposed to be a shock twist ending turns out to almost undermine everything that has come before it. Despite this, Save The Green Planet shows enough character, heart, invention and bravery to be worth a look for any fan of Asian cinema. RM
Film: Fulltime Killer
Release date: 29th March 2004
Certificate: 18
Running time: 100 mins
Director: Johnny To, Wai Ka-Fai
Starring: Andy Lau, Takashi Sorimachi, Simon Yam, Kelly Lin, Cherrie Ying
Genre: Crime/Drama/Thriller
Studio: Tartan
Format: DVD
Country: Hong Kong
Before receiving awards and plaudits around the globe with movies such as Exiled and the Election series, Johnnie To already had a wide array of films to his name. Looking back on some of his lesser known works, such as this adaption of the Pang Ho-Cheung novel ‘Fulltime Killer’, gives a revealing insight into a director who has been developing and honing his skills for years.
The story starts showing O undertaking a hit. He is calm and methodical. When confronted by an old friend, he doesn't hesitate in killing him in order to protect himself. Then we meet another professional hit-man, Tok. When his first assassination involves a bagful of grenades, we see he is a man who is more interested in the impressive style in which he takes people out in rather than any sense of dignity or composure.
O is the better, renowned for his efficiency and ability to stay below the radar, whereas Tok is new to the game, and wants to make a name for himself in any way possible. Tok knows the only way to do this is to be the man to take down the infamous O, and will do anything in his power to draw him out.
This bait comes in the form of Chin, O's house cleaner and the only person O seems to care for, although their relationship is one of voyeurism and hidden feelings as his paranoia and insecurity stops him from being able to relate to her in any meaningful way. Tok enters her life and initiates her into the world these two men live in through his charm, and a charisma that O lacks.
As a deadly game of cat and mouse plays out between O and Tok, Agent Lee, an Interpol agent tasked with the unenviable task of finding and stopping the two, starts to close in as their battle of wits draws him ever closer to his goal. With a desire that borders on obsession to bring both men to justice, he will go to any lengths to get to the pair before they escape him again.
As events escalate, it is only a matter of time before they must finally confront each other to see just who the better is, and who will get caught in the crossfire…
With a brooding and calm demeanour, Takashi Sorimachi shows us O as a man who excels at a job where emotions are distractions he can't handle, yet who longs for something tangible and real as his self-enforced detachment and solitude have left him so secretive that he doesn't so much live his own life, as watch it from afar.
Meanwhile, Andy Lau brings his usual charisma to the role of Tok, a character who revels in his own notoriety. He is brash, easily excitable and never shy about expressing his emotions, whether through words or, often times, acts of extreme violence.
The contrasts between the two are shown often. Each has his own distinct colour, suited to their personality, which bathes them throughout the movie - ice cold blue for O and a fiery red for Tok. The way in which they undertake their assignments also reveals an insight into how their minds work differently to achieve a common goal. However, it is scenes where they react to being double crossed that the parallel between the two is best shown. O calmly exacts a clinical yet devastating retribution on the man who betrayed him, while Tok charges headlong into the trap, taking glee in springing it, trusting on nothing more than his own ability to get him through, before gleefully turning the tables on those who wronged him.
As the object of both of the protagonists’ affection, it is nice to see Kelly Lin play such a strong character in what could easily have been a one-dimensional ‘damsel in distress’ role. Instead, she quietly keeps the story flowing. At first, she is seemingly caught up in the madness caused around her by her contact with the two killers, but then it slowly becomes apparent that she has masterfully orchestrated her way into their world as a solution to her “quiet” and “boring” life. Her scenes with O and Tok help to establish the differences between them outside of their profession. The former watching her from a distance but unable to make the contact he desires, while the latter literally bursts into her life with his cocky and assured approach.
The standout, however, is Simon Yam, a man obsessed with O. He has seen the damage that O has caused and wants it to end. His chance comes when Tok enters the scene and O is forced to take a reactive role which finally brings him into Yam’s cross-hairs. Upon finally meeting O, his grin is wolfish and predatory, perfectly conveying his joy of the hunt yet also his excitement at the chance to end it. It is only after a botched arrest attempt when he is physically unable to pursue O any longer that he is forced to take in the scope of the damage his obsession has caused to those around him, beautifully conveyed as he surveys a street that is littered with his dead and wounded team.
This leads to an unconventional final act as the film starts to follow him and his descent into despair. This is unexpected and slightly disappointing as the focus is taken off the two killers. However, it is thanks to Yam's performance that this works as we see how his encounters with these two killers have left him a broken man. There is no gung-ho desire for revenge as might have been expected, but instead we see a man who has lost everything to his obsession. Yet he is still so close to the case that even though his role in the story between the two is over, he must find out how the story ends in order to have any kind of catharsis.
As you would expect with a Johnny To film, the action scenes are shot and staged beautifully - a gun fight where the three finally meet at an apartment building is a highpoint that any action fan will want to see for themselves. The only problem is the final face off between the two. After so many excellent yet varied action sequences showcasing the differences between how O and Tok operate, the pay-off to the entire movie is quite short and plagued by an over reliance on a pop culture reference that takes away some of the tension in favour of ridiculousness. Whilst it doesn't ruin the movie, the fact that it can't live up to the standards that have been previously set is slightly unsatisfying.
Star turns, a decent script and some dazzling fight choreography stop this time old tale of a newcomer trying to prove himself to the old hand from being anything but predictable. It conveys the differences between the two killers without judgement. There is no good or bad guy, and this means there is a layer of investment in these characters that make the final outcome all the more potent. DM
Film: Ring
Release date: 19th March 2001
Certificate: 15
Running time: 96 mins
Director: Hideo Nakata
Starring: Nanako Matsushima, Miki Nakatani, Yûko Takeuchi, Hitomi Satô, Yôichi Numata
Genre: Horror/Mystery
Studio: Tartan
Format: DVD
Country: Japan
Ring: the title, like the film itself, is beautifully simplistic. This Japanese cult horror has become one of the highest grossing franchises of all time, spawning a sequel, a prequel, two remakes and a TV series. The story centres around a mysterious video tape that when watched means the demise of its unlucky viewer after seven days. This may sound slightly ridiculous as agrounding for a good horror film, however, in execution, Hideo Nakata has created a true horror classic.
Reiko Asakura (Nanako Matsushima) is a journalist investigating a circulating rumour on a cursed videotape, but it is only after the death of her niece that she begins to believe there could be some truth to the urban legend. Her investigation leads her to a cabin where she discovers and watches the tape.
Frightened at what may happen to her, Reiko enlists the help of her ex-husband Ryuki (Hiroyuki Sanada), who is cynical about the whole notion, and watches the tape out of curiosity. Add to this their son, Yoichi, who watches the tape by accident, and the clock is very much ticking on the entire family.
What follows is a race against time as the former married couple investigate the sources and people in the tape in order to see if they can lift their curse before their time is up. What they don’t realise is that their journey will lead them to the paranormal and murdered girl who is set on revenge…
From the very beginning, this movie is an exercise in beautiful simplicity. The tension is palpable from the start, and builds as the protagonists near their demise. Director Hideo Nakata is subtle and methodical with his work, and this is evident in Ring. There are plenty of voyeuristic shots, which unnerve. The characters, having watched the tape have someone or something hovering over them, waiting. It is hard not to feel a chill. The ambiguity leads us to wonder what it could be, and as is the case with most classic horror films, being suggestive and allowing the audience to utilise their imaginations is the best tool at the director’s disposal.
The same can be said of the acting. Nanako Matsushima gives a very measured performance. The subtleties of facial expression and body language help accentuate the quiet moments that only succeed in increasing the tension and drama.
When the horror moments do occur, and they are sporadic, they are delivered purposefully and with force. The evil paranormal child Sadako (Rie Ino’o) moves in a disjointed and painful manner. Her movement adds to her already warped back-story, and is simply terrifying in the movie’s most enduring scene: her awkward and ominous clamber from the TV screen and into Ryuki’s home. It is a truly classic horror moment.
Whilst the story overall is methodical and well-paced, there are moments that could have been used to create more drama and action. After their investigation leads them to a volcanic island, the former married couple, Reiko and Ryuki, need to get back to the mainland to stop the curse. There is a typhoon and no-one will take them on their boats as it is too dangerous, until Sadako’s father, Professor Ikuma (Daisuke Ban) turns up. Their journey is straightforward and the investigation continues. While it is important that the film maintains its tension, it will be clear to action addicts that there are a few missed opportunities for visual and physical drama, and while the film doesn’t necessarily suffer because of them, people who are expecting more action are going to be left disappointed.
The sound, or lack of it, is utilised very well to accentuate tense moments so that when the score is used it has maximum impact. The simplicity of a telephone ring is used as Sadako makes her disjointed stumble towards the screen to signify impending and inevitable doom.
Even at the very end of the movie the director is still being suggestive rather than implicit. Ambiguity allows the audience to make up their own minds, and this uncertainty is perhaps the most unnerving.
Hideo Nakata’s film Ring is a triumph of horror cinema on a shoestring budget. It is a master class in how subtlety can be utilised in such a way that makes it extremely powerful. It is clear that every aspect of the film has been well constructed and methodically thought out. The horror aspects may be few and far between but the thriller aspect builds the tension and the story development so that the audience is in the palm of his hand for when the killer blow is dealt. MMI
Film: Wild Strawberries
Release date: 25th February 2002
Certificate: 15
Running time: 88 mins
Director: Ingmar Bergman
Starring: Victor Sjöström, Bibi Andersson, Ingrid Thulin, Gunnar Björnstrand, Jullan Kindahl
Genre: Drama
Studio: Tartan
Format: DVD
Country: Sweden
Somewhere in the midst of dreams and reality, connecting past memories to the present, bitterness with regret and emotional detachment to nostalgia, Ingmar Bergman delivers one of the most introspective films on man’s existence and what it means to have truly lived. It’s no wonder, then, that Wild Strawberries won the Golden Bear Award for Best Film at the 1958 Berlin Film Festival.
Professor Isak Borg – played flawlessly by Silent Film director Victor Sjostrom – is a 78-year-old physician set to receive an honorary doctorate from Lund University. In his old age, he’s chosen to isolate himself from social contact, and lives a perfectly content life engrossed by scientific study.
On the morning of his special day, though, the widower has a profound dream in which he finds himself in an unfamiliar part of Stockholm where none of the clocks have minute hands. He sees a hearse approaching ominously, and as the carriage passes by it gets caught on a lamp post leading to the coffin falling out of the back. The professor edges closer cautiously, and to his horror, an outstretched hand tries to pull him inside.
After this episode, Borg changes his housekeepers’ meticulous plans, and decides to drive to Lund himself via a visit to his mother. His estranged daughter-in-law, Marianne (Ingrid Thulin), who was residing with him throughout marital problems, chooses to accompany the professor on his journey so that she can return to her husband and reconcile their marriage.
During the ride, Marianne reveals to Borg that despite his external charm, the people closest to him recognise his manipulative and selfish character to the extent that his own son despises him. Thus in a bid to build a rapport with his daughter-in-law, Borg veers off-course to show Marianne where he used to spend his childhood summers.
Unexpectedly for the ageing Professor, though, the break awakens a sense of reminiscence from deep within, and he begins to have flashbacks of his first love Sara. Subsequently on his journey to Lund, Borg meets a number of hitchhikers such as young frivolous Agda and a middle-aged bickering couple, who all contribute to him re-evaluating his life...
Essentially, Wild Strawberries is a straightforward road movie, however, Bergman’s use of symbolism, flashbacks and some fine nuanced acting, particularly by Sjostrom, give the film enough depth to transcend its genre and provide an emotional hook for the viewer.
In the film’s opening scene, Borg is established as the archetypal lonely, cold and successful man by being introduced with markers of his lavish life, such as the grand house, an honorary degree, and his selfish actions towards the housekeeper. As the film progresses, though, the use of narration acts as a gateway inside Borg’s thoughts, rendering him more vulnerable and emotionally available.
Thus Bergman uses the road movie format not only as a physical journey from Stockholm to Lund, but a mental journey that explores Borg’s past as well, so that he can redeem himself from being unloved and troubled, to an endearing old man at peace with life. The style is pivotal to the film’s power, as it gives the film a solid enough structure - both in terms of plot and character development – to make it accessible to even mainstream audiences, which has often been a criticism of the Swedish director’s other films.
Another surprising aspect of the film, not often found in many of the director’s other dramas, is the use of subtle humour to gives the film a more watchable pace. This is particularly evident, though not exclusive, in the bickering between Borg and his housekeeper, which resembles a charming old married couple squabble over domestic issues such as packing a suitcase properly. This use of humour not only gives brief respite from the more serious issues but contributes into giving the film a warm ambience that complements the picturesque Swedish landscapes, soft affectionate tones and camera work.
Indeed, all of these characteristics are at their most potent in the nostalgic scenes from Borg’s past at the summer house. The laughter, music, variety of people and carefree gaiety in these scenes is a direct contrast from the present, which often has very controlled and self-conscious scenes with only one or two people in them. The resultant effect of this contrast creates a lasting yet intangible impression of lost youth certain to strike a chord with the majority of viewers.
Finally, the use of relationships between the characters is perhaps the film’s biggest strength, as each of them, from the carefree idealist youths to the married couple full of resent - and even Borg’s strong but callous mother isolated in her mansion - highlight different aspects of human nature. Bergman uses all of these characters to provide an overall positive message that it is better to let go of past regrets and take a chance on life than wither away all alone.
Wild Strawberries manages to combine a deeply profound and powerful message with mainstream accessibility that puts it instantly into the category of timeless classic. QA
Film: Hard Boiled
Release date: 27th September 2004
Certificate: 18
Running time: 122 mins
Director: John Woo
Starring: Chow Yun-Fat, Tony Leung Chiu-Wai, Teresa Mo, Philip Chan, Philip Kwok
Genre: Action/Crime/Drama/Thriller
Studio: Tartan
Format: DVD
Country: Hong Kong
Long before he was playing a bastardised version of Master Roshi in Hollywood's 'retelling' of Dragonball, Chow Yun-fat actually made films that mattered. As perhaps John Woo's best received film (by western critics at least), Hard Boiled tells the story of a maverick cop whose guns and clarinet are his only friends as he sets out to right the wrongs of ‘90s Hong Kong and kill hundreds of people along the way. Think Dirty Harry with more guns – a LOT more.
Hong Kong is a city being torn apart by gun-running gangs, as evidenced by the opening scene where civilians are forced to flee a tea room in terror as bullets and birds start flying in almost equal measure. Enter Tequila (Chow Yun-fat) who quite frankly seems to have had about enough of such nonsense, and proceeds to shoot first and ask questions later in the most unequivocal manner possible. One dead partner and some snappy dialogue with a former flame later, and we realise this man is pretty much Hong Kong's answer to John McClain. This is not a bad thing.
What follows is something that could charitably be called exposition, as we are made aware that much of the chaos within the city is the result of two rival gangs competing for leverage in the illegal arms trade. Tony Leung plays Tony, an undercover cop who has infiltrated the slightly more philanthropic of the gangs and become the heir-apparent; however, his obvious talents are coveted by the nefarious leader of the opposing gang: Johnny Wong (Anthony Wong Chau-Sang).
A showdown – in the loosest sense possible, as it boils down to Tequila versus dozens of gangsters – in a warehouse changes the balance of power irreparably, introduces our two protagonists to one another, and sets up Wong as a man with a plan that will spell trouble for all of Hong Kong. However, Tequila's attitude problem and Tony's rapid descent into the criminal underworld place these two men who represent law and order's last line of defence on either side of a war that threatens to erupt at any moment…
Tequila, as a character, is probably a good place to start for any retrospective look at Hard Boiled because so much of what makes this film appealing relies on him. He's an every-man; a down-on-his luck cop who puts the job first, sacrifices personal relationships for his work, and goes outside of the rules when they can't get the job done. This is a stereotype of a stereotype - albeit one of the first – and a character built upon clichés, but that doesn't stop him being unabashedly awesome. Part of this is due to Yun-fat's performance, which lends a perfect amount of smarmy indifference to how Tequila responds to violence. But a large part of what makes him great is down to Woo's decision to just make him do the most plainly ridiculous stuff because it looks great.
And indeed, the artistry of the gun-fighting in this film reaches far beyond its own celluloid boundaries. Modern attempts to recreate the brutal style and the visceral pace of Hard Boiled are numerous; from True Romance and Max Payne to Equilibrium and The Matrix, John Woo's influence has rippled outward from this film, even as far as that most impregnable of bastions - Hollywood action movies. And with good reason – Hard Boiled is a beautiful example of how to maintain grittiness and violence while utilising the kind of excessive acrobatics and bullet-time dives that would become so popular both in film and video games several years after its release.
With its commitment to its own visual glory, Hard Boiled seems to throw the script out of the window occasionally, but this doesn't really matter. Leung and Yun-fat deliver consistently good performances for what they have to work with, and in a film where getting to the next mind-blowing action sequence is the name of the game, words just get in the way. This might be a problem for some who tend to want a bit more depth from their film, but you shouldn't be deceived into thinking that these aren't well-layered characters. They prove from first to last to be likeable, cool and tough as nails.
If you fancy watching a film that is considered by many to be one of the greatest action films of all time then Hard Boiled is for you. It isn't the most subtle of beasts, but then subtlety is overrated anyway. Amazing action sequences interspersed with good acting and a cool story - watch this film. JD
Film: Winter Light
Release date: 19th November 2001
Certificate: PG
Running time: 81 mins
Director: Ingmar Bergman
Starring: Ingrid Thulin, Gunnar Björnstrand, Gunnel Lindblom, Max von Sydow, Allan Edwall
Genre: Drama
Studio: Tartan
Format: DVD
Country: Sweden
Ingmar Bergman is considered to be the epitome of high brow art house cinema, combining human angst for the exploration of big themes such as faith, mortality and the meaning of life with a deeply innovative and sober auteurial style that has led to many labelling him as the antithesis of Hollywood. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the second of Bergman’s ‘faith’ trilogy, Winter Light.
Set in a rural and isolated part of Sweden, the film takes place in a three hour window between midday and 3pm on a winter’s Sunday, and revolves around the village pastor Tomas (Gunnar Bjrnstrand), who has been suffering from a crisis of faith since the death of his wife four years earlier.
The film opens with the end of midday mass for a tiny congregation, including an easily distracted child presumably dragged to church by his devout grandmother, an atheist schoolmistress (Ingrid Thulin) with an ulterior motive for attending, and a young fishing couple.
Following the congregation, Tomas coughs and splutters his way through preparations for his next mass in the neighbouring town of Frostnas, when the troubled young couple come to him for advice. He swiftly sends them away, advising Jonas Persson (Max Von Sydow) to return for a more in-depth chat later. Subsequently, Marta, the schoolmistress, slips into the pastor’s office to enquire about her unread letter, and declares her love for him before leaving.
When Tomas is finally alone, he reads her scathing letter that makes him doubt his faith, and finally has time to reflect before Jonas returns, anxiously seeking counsel for why God would allow global atrocities to take place. Tomas, however, cannot provide answers but merely more questions regarding God’s silence, and admits that his own faith wavered after the death of his wife. Jonas leaves more confused than when he arrived, whilst Marta is overjoyed that Tomas has finally decided to renounce God for love.
However, as they start to make their way towards Frostnas for the 3pm mass, some unforeseen events prove that God moves in mysterious ways…
The films sombre and austere mood is set right from the opening bleak shots and silence; only punctuated by ominous church bells. This is a special kind of film, in which all of its aspects - the camera work, desolate sound, lighting, script and acting - are restrained, working in shadows and low key to conversely create a spiritual exploration for a God greater than the sum of its parts.
This contrast is no more apparent than in the twelve minute long opening scene. Bergman juxtaposes large open spaces shot in wide frame and extreme long shots with the tiny congregation to highlight not only the isolated environment of his film but how isolated man is from God as well. Then this effect is recreated through image and sound as the confident church organ, hymns and Tomas’s laborious preachy words exclaim devotion, yet the tight and intense camera work focuses intimately on solemn faces that betray doubt, fear and anxiety.
The stark use of light and shade is another key element in the film. Reportedly Bergman and his cinematographer, Sven Nykvist, spent days studying how the natural Nordic light created shadows in the church before shooting the film. A key example of the use of light is in the pivotal scene where Tomas – at his most vulnerable and isolated from God - echoes Jesus on the crucifix with his question: “Why have you forsaken me?” In this scene, after being in shadows for the whole film, surrounding by questions, he finally renounces God and is bathed in sunlight, as if being baptised by the Pagan, and earthly god symbolises his choice of corporeal love.
Indeed this leads to another of the Bergman’s techniques that make this film a cerebral masterpiece; the use of symbolism. Bergman makes every one of his ‘believers’ in the film have some physical ailment and cause of pain - from Tomas’s cold and the loss of his wife and Marta’s eczema-ridden hands to Algot’s limping leg. Each of the believers are suffering, and the film subtly investigates how much humans will endure for their faith.
Concurrently, Bergman puts his viewers through this dense dreary and claustrophobic film to ask them: “How much will you endure for the sake of art?” Although this is a motif he uses more pertinently in later films such as Cries And Whispers, it’s brilliantly implemented here in Marta’s 6 minute monologue, when Ingrid Thulin talks directly to the viewer. Framed tight and in an unflattering fashion, she details her insecurities and thoughts towards Tomas directly at the audience, rendering the viewer to feel completely uncomfortable with no escape.
Whilst Winter Light is one of Bergman’s shortest and bleakest films, the beauty of its craftsmanship, profound subject matter and simplicity lends to repeat viewing, and gives it an ageless quality. Perhaps the film was best summed up by Bergman’s own wife, who said "Ingmar, it's a masterpiece. But it's a dreary masterpiece." QA
Film: I’m A Cyborg
Release date: 26th May 2008
Certificate: 15
Running time: 105 mins
Director: Park Chan-wook
Starring: Lim Su-jeong, Rain, Choi Hie-jin, Kim Byeong-ok, Lee Yong-nyeo
Genre: Comedy/Drama/Romance
Studio: Tartan
Format: DVD
Country: South Korea
I’m A Cyborg is a film by Park Chan-wook that takes a more light-hearted approach to his usual style of twisted storytelling. Fans of his successful vengeance trilogy will be surprised at the U-turn but won’t necessarily be disappointed by the cute escapades of two teenage mental patients.
While working in a radio production factory, Cha Young-goon (Lim Su-jeong) hears a voice instruct her to harm herself, and inevitably she is shocked trying to plug herself into the mains. To show that she is fully recharged, the toes of her right foot light up in different colours, mimicking the bar gauges on mobile phones.
All the while Young-goon’s Mother is narrating. He is telling the doctor about how her daughter acts – that she speaks like an old person because her granny brought her up, who herself has already been sectioned because she thinks she is a mouse and only eats radishes.
After the incident at the factory, Young-goon is immediately hospitalised, and as she is lying motionless in her bed, another patient is telling her about the others on the ward. She wheels Young-goon’s bed around the hospital and shows her ‘the hiccup clock’, where, supposedly, a patient who couldn’t stop hiccupping hid in the clock and withered away. They continue to the recreation room where the male lead, Il-sun (Rain) is playing table tennis in a colourful rabbit mask. Young-goon’s escort tells her a tall tale about Il-sun; that he was so ashamed in prison about what he had done that he burned his handsome face with cigarettes and sewed up his own anus (to which the audience is shown a humorous clip of Il-sun picking a wedgie before serving the next ball).
Young-goon refuses to speak to her peers or nursing staff, instead befriending the vending machine to which she speaks to late at night. Meanwhile, Il-sun is being accused of stealing all sorts of preposterous things from his colleagues, from hunger to table tennis skills. He performs makeshift rituals where he covers the victim’s face in paint then wraps a piece of paper around them. He holds his palm open upon their shoulder and says “transfer,” and then the victim slaps his palm to transfer the desired stolen trait.
This is when the film starts to pick up. Young-goon has been following and watching Il-sun’s shenanigans, and approaches him to ask if he could “steal her sympathy” so that she may fulfil her cyborg duties without her human emotions. Il-sun refuses at first, stealing her Granny’s dentures instead, but when he does finally take the “sympathy,” cyborg Young-goon blossoms, wreaking havoc and carnage around the hospital…
Lim Su-jeong is very likable as the loopy Young-goon. She has a youthful face and portrays a very endearing, child-like character.
Rain proves to be a man of many faces. He is able to take Il-sun from the aloof, seemingly ‘normal’ Ping-Pong enthusiast through all the stolen traits of the other characters with ease and charm, making the film hilarious, and allowing us to forgive the apparent lack of substantial plot.
Another notable character is a man who is “so humble he can only walk backwards,” and is a master of redundant statements, at one point, as he is trying to console a fellow patient’s recent defeat at table tennis, he delivers a very daft consoling line about how “Ping-Pong is about giving and receiving,” and “why must we only give after we’ve received?” The other patient is clearly not impressed.
Dynamics like that between the characters are very entertaining, and obviously the essence of the film is how the patients interact with each other, rather than a straight storyline, which often leaves characters static and lacklustre, while the director trundles through an over-elaborate narrative.
There are scenes that may have been better off not being included, like ones that involve special effects that turn the narrative overly surreal, and into detached dream sequences. Although, when Young-goon believes she is transforming parts of her body into automatic weapons, there is a delightful massacre scene halfway through the film that will indulge long-time Park fans, and still keep the spunky, innocent feel of the rest of the film.
The cinematography is, as ever with Park, spectacular, with the scenes being supported by intense pastel colours, giving the impression of the character’s performing straight out of a children’s book, with lots of repetition of solid, geometric shapes. The eating hall, in particular, is very aesthetic, and also the solitary confinement room, which is a padded cell in a brilliant bright green.
For all the bright and sugary props that keep the audience entertained, an overall storyline is tricky to find – it’s clearly a romance story between two disturbed individuals that will always have problems by themselves in society, but there is no solid, expectant conclusion to tie all the ends together.
As long as you’re not expecting the gratuitous violence of the vengeance trilogy and allow I’m A Cyborg to breathe on its own, it’ll be easier to appreciate as a modern, dark fairytale. The imagery is slick and the characters are attractive and likeable, but the overall storyline seems to teeter out by the credits. You won’t get a satisfying conclusion, but you will laugh hard and easily. AW
Film: A Tale Of Two Sisters
Release date: 22nd November 2004
Certificate: 15
Running time: 115 mins
Director: Kim Ji-woon
Starring: Kim Kap-su, Yum Jung-ah, Lim Su-jeong, Moon Geun-young, Lee Seung-bi
Genre: Drama/Horror/Mystery/Thriller
Studio: Tartan
Format: DVD
Country: South Korea
Having been adapted from a Korean folk story entitled Janghwa Hongreyon jeon, A Tale Of Two Sisters amalgamates the subtle, sinister atmosphere of an urban myth with a stylized, visual beauty integrated by director Kim Ji-woon.
The film begins with a young girl being questioned by a psychiatrist in an eerily indistinct scene set inside a bleak, white hospital. What follows, rather unsurprisingly, is a story centred upon two sisters, Su-Mi and her timid younger sibling Su-Yeon. The girls are getting ready to move into a beautiful, yet utterly secluded house, in the serene countryside, with their father, Mu-Hyun, and a seemingly iniquitous stepmother, Eun-Joo. The reason for this change of locale is hinted at being a recovery from some unspecified disturbance.
The sisters struggle to settle in their new surroundings, due to their relationship with their belligerent stepmother. Despite the tension between the three females being overt, with Su-Mi openly showing her hostility toward Eun-Joo, Mu-Hyun seems unreservedly desensitized to the issue, and reacts only by opting for calm within the family. Disturbing occurrences soon occur within the house, with a tormented Su-Mi struggling with the visions of peculiar nightmares whilst trying to calm her younger sisters’ deteriorating mental state, due to a combination of an ostensibly terrifying wooden closet and the wicked actions of Eun-Joo…
Like many films released during the boom years of East-Asian horror cinema, A Tale Of Two Sisters is somewhat attentive towards the idea of disunity and dysfunction within the family unit. Su-Mi’s fractured and hostile relationship towards her stepmother, as well as Mu-Hyun’s seeming lack of interest and concern, are indicative of a broken family. This apprehension invoked by the cracked relationships between the characters is an excellent aspect of the film, especially when coupled with the eerie, hazy tension within the house.
One the film’s most important and impressive facets is the sheer ambiguity which looms over the story. From the opening scene within the hospital to the rationale behind the resentment between Su-Mi and Eun-Joo, as well as the underlying mental disturbances of the characters, director Kim Ji-woon refuses to spoon feed the audience, and keeps us firmly in the dark and guessing throughout the film. The ambiguous nature of the story is aptly juxtaposed with the mental states of the characters, and in particular, Su-Mi.
The ambiguity throughout the film may slightly deter some viewers, as the story is sometimes difficult to follow due to a certain lack of exposition. However, this is a key component of the film, and is sine qua non in adding a certain amount of vagueness and tension to the story, which, at times, is built up to frightening proportions. This is often helped by the pacing of the film, which can be very slow. When the girls first move into their new home at the start of the film, the pacing of the film is almost dream-like, setting up a wonderfully tense atmosphere highly reminiscent of a David Lynch film. Although it speeds up at the film’s denouement, involving several twists and turns, the best instances within the story are when the pacing is slow, and scenes are often cut together in an almost meticulous fashion.
The horror in A Tale Of Two Sisters is dictated by the underlying psychological aspects which run through the film. The emotional distress manifests through bizarre events which can be very creepy. Particularly eerie set pieces involve a gruesome Su-Mi nightmare laden with a subtext of menstruation, and a truly peculiar scene in which Mu-Hyun’s guests experience an outlandish dinner scenario. As the story progresses, the audience is often persuaded to question the validity and pragmatism of certain scenes, and, as the mental states of the characters become more mysterious, things are increasingly not what they seem.
Aesthetically, the film is beautiful. The visuals combine a surreal reverie with a dark and gothic aspect which makes for an excellent grouping. The opening scene, for example, is a visual delight. The shady and sterilised hospital room merges with an atmosphere of tension and ambiguity to produce a perfect starting block. Alongside the dark shadows which encompass the film are a litany of vivid and dazzling colours which bring out the films dream-like quality.
The overriding feeling whilst watching the film is of pure anxiety. As the film draws to a end, twists become apparent, which really do piece together the story. One criticism may be that the film is somewhat over-complicated, with some aspects of the film being superfluous. On occasions, it can be confusing, whilst at others, it can be like a Lucian Freud painting; both beautiful and gruesome, sometimes hard to watch, yet you cannot keep your eyes off it.
In what has been customary for successful East-Asian horror cinema of recent years, the film was given a Hollywood remake, The Uninvited (2009). However, this original is truly superior. An aesthetically beautiful, yet, at times, utterly disturbing film that delivers a deliciously disconcerting atmosphere throughout. CJG
Film: Infernal Affairs III
Release date: 26th September 2005
Certificate: 15
Running time: 118 mins
Director: Andrew Lau Wai-Keung & Alan Mak
Starring: Tony Leung Chiu Wai, Andy Lau, Leon Lai, Daoming Chen, Kelly Chen
Genre: Action/Crime/Drama/Thriller
Studio: Tartan
Format: DVD
Country: Hong Kong/China
The first movie in the Infernal Affairs trilogy was so good, it helped win Martin Scorsese his long-awaited Oscar for another film. Its prequel follow-up established an epic urban grandeur the like of which had rarely been seen in Hong Kong cinema before. Box-office receipts were good, worldwide critical acclaim was high. Andrew Lau and Alan Mak visit the well one last time - has it, by now, run dry?
In Infernal Affairs III, we pick up where we left off - and just before we came in. Ten months after the devastating conclusion of the first film, we return to ask the question - did Ming (Andy Lau) the ‘victor’ of that original cat-and-mouse game truly escape his “continuous hell?” The continuing saga is juxtaposed with events leading up to the film’s opening, the viewer a bystander helplessly watching two tragedies leading into their inevitable sad conclusion.
Ming becomes obsessed with atoning for his life of deception and murder, and, when he becomes convinced that old boss Sam has another mole inside the police department, he determines that arresting him will make up for everything that he did. But is Ming, whose mental state is quickly deteriorating, up to the task?
Meanwhile, in the recent past, we fill in the gaps in the life of undercover cop Yan (Tony Leung) as his life inches inexorably closer to the tragedy of the first film. The events that led up to the first film’s endgame have direct implications on Ming’s story in the present - because, as always in an Infernal Affairs film, things are never quite what they seem…
No film series, no matter how inspired, is completely immune from the law of diminishing returns, and the Infernal Affairs series is no different. That is not to say Infernal Affairs III is not good. In fact, by any standards, Part III is a fine trilogy conclusion, boasting as it does a committed performance from Andy Lau, who gets deeper into the character of Ming as the tortured detective mentally unravels from the consequences of his actions in Part I. Haunted, falling apart and being drawn helplessly into his “continuous hell,” Ming’s guilt breeds a potentially deadly paranoia, and it is to Lau’s credit that he anchors a sharp turn in a new direction for a formerly down-to-earth, gritty crime drama. Where Parts I and II presented “continuous hell” as purely an existential construct, played out against a grimy urban backdrop, Part III essays the psychology of its protagonist. As such, it lacks the emotional grandeur of - especially - the first film, but with Lau giving it everything without, crucially, straying into ‘hammy’ territory, the concluding part of the trilogy still packs a heavy emotional punch.
Lau might steal the show in Part III, but there is fine work to be found throughout the cast - most notably with Leon Lai, whose natural, appropriate impassivity is put to the best use since his turn in Wong Kar-wai’s Fallen Angels. Lai has one of the more interesting characters in the film, his Detective Yeung is a cold, calculating cop whose motives are murky, and the means used to achieve them murkier still. His early bullying of a nightclub owner is a crucial injection of energy into the film, as the loyal audience wonders if there’s any new ground to cover with Yan, Ming, Sam and Wong.
And upon closer inspection, one suspects that it was ground perhaps best left unexplored. Unlike Part II, Part III has little to add to the first film but, by this point, enriching the Infernal Affairs mythology does not seem to be the paramount concern of the filmmakers. By employing a dual narrative - one half taking place six months before the events of the first film, the other half ten months after - Lau and Mak give themselves license to bring back dead characters, making the final film more of an excuse for a cast reunion than a necessary continuation of the saga. The effect is certainly satisfying on an aesthetic level - Part III has one of the ‘starriest’ casts in recent Hong Kong cinema - but such an obvious concession to crowd-pleasing makes Part III instantly a lighter affair than its predecessors. Its commitment to accommodating its marquee names results in its split narrative, not to mention detours into the unravelling psyche of its protagonist, occasionally confusing. Audiences are used to having to pay close attention to the plot of an Infernal Affairs movie by now, but Part III slips the narrative leash more than once (the appearance, for example, of Andy Lau and Leon Lai in rather prominent roles in the flashback sequences keeps a viewer at a distance trying to figure out how this all fits together, unlike the first two movies, which kept the viewer firmly in the role of keenly-observing passenger on board a thrilling cinematic ride). But then, of course, directors Lau and Mak have a quite marvellous cast to ensure the viewer remains hooked, even when they’re slightly befuddled.
Furthermore, while the present day continuation of the Infernal Affairs story contains high levels of intrigue and suspense (even if it cannot hope to jump the bar set by the original), the flashback scenario comes loaded with a sense of inevitability it never quite shakes off, and thus has less in the way of true narrative momentum. Tony Leung is as charismatic and watchable as ever, and he certainly works extremely hard, but it just never feels like an essential chapter of the saga (though the explanation of how Yan came to be wearing a cast on his arm in Part I is a nice touch).
Not a perfect film then but, as third chapters go, Infernal Affairs III is exemplary. Where Part II forsook the first film’s central theme of redemption, and the struggle to be good, Part III places that time-worn, but always compelling cinematic theme back where it belongs - front and centre. It may offer nothing in the way of thematic conclusion, save a stinging sense of existential futility, or even anything new to say on the subject, but it grounds the more melodramatic parts of the film, and lends it an air of relevance that might not be entirely genuine.
At the conclusion of the film, which takes the viewer right up to the opening of a memorable early scene from the original movie, the viewer is in no doubt that a thrilling, memorable landmark trilogy has come to a close. JN
Film: Infernal Affairs II
Release date: 10th January 2005
Certificate: 15
Running time: 150 mins
Director: Andrew Lau Wai-Keung & Alan Mak
Starring: Anthony Wong Chau-sang, Eric Tsang, Carina Lau, Francis Ng, Edison Chen
Genre: Action/Crime/Drama/Thriller
Studio: Tartan
Format: DVD
Country: Hong Kong/China/Singapore
That there was a sequel to Infernal Affairs is not a surprise. In Hong Kong, if something works, odds are it will be sequelised, or simply ripped off. Even so, the bar was high for Infernal Affairs II. Did directors Andrew Lau and Alan Mak clear it, or did their endeavours fall short?
In Infernal Affairs II, Andrew Lau and Alan Mak take us back ten years, to the origins of their tragic tale. Expanding on the first film’s prologue, we see how Yan (Shawn Yue) fared once thrust into the Triad underworld, and how Ming (Edison Chen) wormed fell inextricably under the spell of Sam (Tsang).
As the drama unfolds, and the characters’ fates inch inexorably closer to the emotional and existential carnage of the first film, we see how Yan was damned by family connections he could not escape, and how Ming came to enjoy power and influence just a little bit too much…
The first Infernal Affairs was an expertly crafted, intelligent and sophisticated thriller, full of low-key suspense and underplayed tension. Part II - a prequel covering the years 1991-1997 (though any wider, socio-metaphorical relevance of the latter year is unexplored) - retains the character-first storytelling of its predecessor, but the emphasis is placed more heavily on drama than on tension. This is an origin story, showing how Yan and Ming came to be in the “continuous hell” in which we found them as grown-ups. As such, there is less of the ingenuous set-pieces and stunning plot twists, and much more emotional conflict and angst. The cat-and-mouse aspect of Part I is missed, but what is here is absolutely enthralling - because what made the first film work so well was its strong, multi-layered, contradictory characters. Lau and Mak, returning as co-directors, know that they can’t pull off the same cinematic miracle twice, and go in a brand new, exciting and fascinating direction with their saga, which begins to take on an operatic dimension.
This time, the co-protagonists are played by younger actors Shawn Yue and Edison Chen (both of whom made fleeting cameos in the first film’s establishing prologue, the continuity one of the most pleasing elements of Part II). Both are lightweight in comparison to their older counterparts - Yue’s younger Yan is a restless ball of energy, wide-eyed and more outwardly conflicted; Chen’s Ming is a sullen young man, almost eagerly accepting onto his shoulders the weight of his double-life, even as it is only just getting underway. It is a sharp contrast with the performances of the older actors, but a smart choice by the cast and filmmakers - this is our conflicted protagonists at the beginning of their long and tortuous roads. The contrast makes the prequel less of your usual quickie Hong Kong cash-in, and more of a necessary expansion of the characters and urban mythology.
The chief appeal of this second film in the saga is the performances of Anthony Wong and Eric Tsang, playing younger versions of their characters, before they became deadly enemies. To see them on friendly terms is arresting, and instantly fascinating, their straight-faced jousting of the first film replaced by a more jovial verbal sparring, drowning in tragic subtext. As cop and crook (in both generations) find themselves in ever deeper holes, the tension felt by the audience lies in not in the fears for their safety (because we know all four must survive this film to make it to the original), but in the anticipation of how they make their escape - the audience feels the dread of the “continuous hell” that we know is just beyond the horizon for them all.
Elsewhere, new faces play new characters, broadening the scope of the film to an almost epic degree. Francis Ng and Roy Cheung (both veteran villains of Andrew Lau’s Young And Dangerous series) bring acting muscle to brand new roles un-hinted at in Part I. Ng, in particular, whose reluctant Triad contains clear echoes of Al Pacino’s Michael Corleone in the first two Godfather movies (to which some have compared Infernal Affairs as a Hong Kong equivalent), and brings a new dimension to series. Ng’s performance is an affecting one, and serves to give deeper meaning to much of Tony Leung’s performance in the original movie. Cheung, in an almost wordless role as Ng’s imposing right-hand man, is a dynamic physical presence, prompting an audience to realise just how under-utilised he is in other movies.
In its writing and casting, Part II even manages to correct the glaring flaw of the first film by including a plum role for an actress. Carina Lau almost walks away with the whole film as Mary, girlfriend of Sam, whose curious, pseudo-oedipal relationship with Edison Chen’s Ming is the most compelling aspect of the film. Given that it is a relationship not hinted at in the original film, Lau and Mak work cinematic wonders to ensure that it enhances the characterisation of Ming, as played by Andy Lau.
And this gem of a screen pairing just about sums up the second film in the trilogy - a thrilling surprise of a picture that enriches repeat viewings of the (mildly superior) first film, making the viewer appreciate it even more, and not simply by favourable comparison. Andrew Lau and Alan Mak are beginning to reveal the width and breadth of the canvas on which they are painting an epic Hong Kong crime drama - the question remained, could they pull it off one more time?
A superb achievement, to offer something different while remaining faithful to the original film. Comparisons to first two Godfather movies is not hyperbole. JN
