Wong Kar-wai, more than any other Hong Kong auteur, has attracted impassioned debate on the nature of "film art". While there is no doubt that Wong has a brilliant sense of style, his resulting oeuvre ("movies" seems too plain a term) led one to suspect a case of "The Emperor’s New Clothes". The numerous awards and the indulgence of critics resulted in a certain self-indulgence and lack of progress on Wong’s part. His post Days of Being Wild productions (Chungking Express, Ashes of Time, and Fallen Angels), while beautifully packaged with Chris Doyle’s exquisite cinematography and William Cheung’s sublime art direction, tread the same road of copious voice-over narration trying to give significance to a vacuous narrative.

Wong’s 1997 Happy Together, while falling into the same pitfalls, was a step in a more mature direction. Three years later sees the release of In the Mood for Love, by far Wong’s most fully developed work, particularly the first hour. Set in 1962 Hong Kong, the uncomplicated story details the relationship between neighbours Su Lizhen (Maggie Cheung) and Chow Mo-wan (Tony Leung Chiu-wai) as they deal with their respective spouses’ infidelities and the deepening affection between Su and Chow—without the crutch of explanatory voice-overs.

It is primarily a mood piece, and what a mood Wong creates. Production designer/editor William Cheung achieves new heights in recreating the milieu of early ’60s Hong Kong. The sight of Maggie Cheung, wearing daisy earrings and an orchid-print qipao, holding a floral-themed drinking glass in front of a flower-upholstered sofa and flowery drapes, is a clashing riot of patterns and colours that somehow comes across as subtle and understated, a look that reflects as well as enhances the character’s and the scene’s emotional disposition. The combined cinematographic talents of Chris Doyle and Mark Lee cannot be underestimated.

Wong has always managed to get the best out of his actors, and In the Mood for Love is no exception. Tony Leung and Maggie Cheung capture the conflicting sensations of love and betrayal in as much as the confines of Wong’s story allows. Rebecca Pan, in her first major role since Days of Being Wild in 1990, radiates Shanghainese vitality.

Few false notes are struck until an hour into the picture, after which the emotions become less true and more affected. Moves to Singapore and, especially, Angkor Wat seem contrived and superfluous. More than that, they dilute the mood Wong so painstakingly created. Thus, the final impact falls short of its initial promise. But there is no denying that the emperor’s clothes are becoming more substantial.

4 stars

This review is copyright (c) 2000 by Paul Fonoroff. All rights reserved. No part of the review may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.