The Look of Love
With gracefully swaying hips, Maggie Cheung glides
into a crowded living room, in sync with a luscious
stringed score. Tony Leung squeezes past her to the
doorway, as if waltzing, with a pelvic motion in time
with the soundtrack. Their movement is indescribably
sensual, without any overt sexuality. They do not make
eye contact or even seem to acknowledge one another;
the music intimates their ultimate, though slowly
realized, passion for one another.
This early scene epitomizes both the style and action
of In the Mood for Love, the stunningly quiet and
seductive film by Wong Kar-Wai, maker of the ultra-hip
and hyper-stylized romances Chungking Express,
Fallen Angels, and Happy Together. Wong has staked
out star-crossed lovers as his specialty, and In the
Mood for Love proves his most sophisticated romance
yet. A swoony, adult film of unexpected restraint, it
shines with radiant color schemes and two devastating
central performances, by Cheung (Irma Vep) and Leung
(Chungking Express, Happy Together). Cheung and
Leung play Mrs. Chan and Mr. Chow, two people who have
recently moved to Hong Kong with their spouses and are
renting rooms within adjoining apartments --
apparently the housing market in 1962 Hong Kong was as
tight as present day New York City. On the day both
couples move in, their belongings are mixed up in a
chaotic scene in which hired movers can't be bothered
to keep the apartments straight. From this day
forward, the Chans' and Chows' lives become entangled.
These spouses, rarely onscreen, only appear from
behind; Wong never allows a clear picture of their
attributes or personalities. They travel a lot, "on
business," and leave their respective partners to live
unhappy, mostly solo lives. Mrs. Chan spends her
lonely nights at the cinema; Mr. Chow stays late at
work to avoid going home. Mrs. Chan and Mr. Chow meet
one night while eating take-out noodles from a congee
stand, before fast-food franchises made urbanites
eating alone commonplace or acceptable. They begin to
meet repeatedly at the congee stand, hardly
exchanging glances or pleasantries. Eventually,
however, they come to recognize their mutual
loneliness... and each other's familiar accessories.
At their first sit-down dinner together, they discover
that both Mr. Chan and Mr. Chow have matching ties;
likewise, Mrs. Chow and Mrs. Chan have matching
handbags. These items -- all of them gifts -- can only
be purchased "abroad." Mrs. Chan and Mr. Chow know,
even before the discussion begins, that their spouses
are having an affair, but they also know that it's
indecent to discuss it. Their curiosity gets the
better of them,
however. Soon they're trying to find out how this
affair began by performing as each other's spouse.
Eventually, they understand where the feelings came
from, because they feel them as well, but they won't
allow themselves to be similarly unfaithful.
Instead, they collaborate on writing a martial arts
serial, which distracts them from the sexual tension
while granting them an excuse to spend time together.
Unfaithful to their own emotions, Mrs. Chan and Mr.
Chow's dialogue functions either as role-playing or as
polite formality. They rarely speak for themselves,
which means that the viewer must infer their true
feelings. During unexpected encounters, as when they
meet coincidentally on the stairs or find each other
seeking shelter from the rain under the same awning,
they appear awkward, as if unsure how to deal with
seeing each other without a proper rationale. But here
the skies emote for them, pouring tears of movie rain,
the sort of torrential flash flooding so typical of
romantic films.
The film includes elliptical sequences that convey the
passage of time by Mrs. Chan's revolving wardrobe.
(Mr. Chow's suit always looks the same, even though
his ties change.) As in Happy Together, a taxi
provides a private semi-space for the emergence of the
couple's affections: in the back seat, Mr. Chow and
Mrs. Chan can graze hands or lean into one another.
These modest courtship moments are the only visible
evidence of a physical relationship (Wong cut a sex
scene in order to keep the film ambiguous), but Mrs.
Chan's landlady suspects an affair. Trying to keep up
appearances, Mrs. Chan joins a mahjong group. She
remains, however, an outsider to the group, the
primary social circle in the film. Mahjong plays a
central role in the film, marking generational and
cultural differences between the older Chinese and
Mrs. Chan and Mr. Chow, both from Shanghai, who have
no interest in the game.
All the characters originally came from different
parts of China and have made Hong Kong their temporary
home, allowing for business trips to Japan or back to
the mainland. People move into crowded homes and
sublets because they do not plan to actually settle
there. Through intermixed customs, languages, and the
seemingly temporary residential situations, Hong Kong
is portrayed as a transitory place where no one
actually belongs. It's a city of lost adults (only one
child ever appears onscreen), especially for Mrs. Chan
and Mr. Chow, who do not have the ties to their
homeland through circles of family and old friends.
At the film's New York Film Festival premiere, Wong
said that he was challenged to make a film that did
not include trick photography, cigarettes, clocks, or
voice-over narration. He succeeded in making a film
without voice-over. But who would want him to resist
his signature curls of smoke or clock-faces denoting
the hard fact of time? As for trick photography, Wong
uses only slow motion, as a way of marking the slow
passing of time and the agony of loneliness. The
camera remains stationary in most shots, poised rather
than frenetic as in Chungking Express.
Still, Wong's jukebox-style use of music (familiar
songs are compiled, played, replayed, and fractured as
themes for specific characters or situations) is his
most obvious trademark. Two basic musical themes
suffuse In the Mood for Love: a longing, string
arrangement and smooth Spanish-language versions of
Nat King Cole's classic songs. These provide the
film's rhythmic and sentimental cues. The choice of
Cole not only establishes 1962 Hong Kong, but also the
incursion of international influences into Hong Kong
culture. Both Cole's American-ness and the
Spanish-language lyrics represent Spain's colonial
impact on the Philippines, which ultimately affected
Hong Kong.
Wong has also stated that Cole was his mother's
favorite singer; for the filmmaker, this period -- his
childhood -- is, in Almodovarian terms, all about his
mother and memories of his childhood. In the Mood for Love's gorgeous success cannot be all about Wong,
however. He conceived
it with Cheung and Leung in mind, then developed their
relationship on screen during fifteen months of
shooting. Radiant even when her soulful eyes are
swollen with tears, Cheung delivers what would be a
star-making performance if she weren't already a star
of international art
cinema. At the same screening, Cheung said that she
prepared for the role by remembering how her mother
looked and the ways she prepared herself when
dressing. (All about her mother?) For Leung as well,
creating the character was a process of remembering
the interactions of adults when he was a child. Leung
plays the part he plays best, the repressed lover,
more subtly than ever before. Special credit must also
go to cinematographer Christopher Doyle, Wong's
longtime collaborator, for again creating exquisite
compositions. It's the film's look, more than any
other element, that lingers with the viewer.
Ultimately, this seems to be what Wong is getting at:
the way he and his collaborators remember their
childhood and their parents, as fondly reimagined
fragments.