Speed
Things move fast in Time and Tide. Tsui Hark's
buddy-action movie is all about keeping up. If you're not wild about one plot, you might find something to like in another, and if one male lead doesn't appeal to you, well, there's another. And if the first pregnant woman isn't so interesting, well, there is a
second. And if none of these storylines is your cup of tea, no matter. Just watch and listen -- the speed and color and tumult will carry you.
Time and Tide marks the Vietnamese-born Tsui Hark's
return to Hong Kong after making a couple of Jean
Claude Van Damme movies, Double Team (featuring Jean
Claude and Dennis Rodman's unforgettable climactic
tussle with a Coke machine) and Knock Off (actually
shot in Honk Kong, with Rob Schneider and Lela Rochon
alongside the scrappy Van Damme, who plays a fashion
designer -- "strange" doesn't begin to describe it).
The new movie is surely less strained than the U.S.
productions, but it is a curiosity in itself, brimming
with themes, in-jokey references, and desires, not all
of which are crystal clear. Then again, this
loosey-goosey verve has a certain offbeat appeal. Its
buddies and action are too irregular to be
predictable, and yet they also fit something
approximating a formula -- boys-bonding,
boys-ass-kicking,
boys-finally-realizing-the-importance-of-family-and-friends.
The buddies are 21-year-old bartender turned
bodyguard-for-hire Tyler (the Cantonese pop star
Nicholas Tse, who also appeared in 1998's Young and
Dangerous: The Prequel and 1999's Gen X Cops) and
Jack (Taiwanese rock star Wu Bai), a young Taiwanese
mercenary who spent some time in Brazil training
government soldiers, before returning home
disillusioned. Tyler and Jack's affiliation is
accidental, but their loyalty to one another grows
exponentially, in relation to the overwhelming
firepower visited on them by Jack's former associates,
led by the surly Miguel (Couto Remotigue, Jr.). These
guys, you learn through flashbacks, seem able to take
out armies without breaking a sweat -- not exactly
guys you want to mess with if you can help it.
Of course, messing with them is inevitable, though the
route to this confrontation is convoluted. The film
opens with Tyler, working at a bar and ruminating on
the beginnings of the world. Within minutes of first
appearing on screen, he's spent the night with an
undercover lesbian cop, Jo (Cathy Chui), and she turns
up pregnant. When he offers financial and emotional
support, she turns him away. And so, the determined
father-to-be is reduced to skulking around her
apartment door, under which he repeatedly slips wads
of cash (which are promptly chewed up by her dog).
This money comes primarily from Tyler's new gig as a
bodyguard, working for his Uncle Ji (Hong Kong
movie-villain veteran Anthony Wong), whose other
"employees" are scary thug-types who owe him money.
Tyler looks relatively clean-cut compared to these
guys, and he's certainly not so experienced in
shooting guns and looking ferocious, but adapts
quickly to his new environs and co-workers, and proves
to be a super-crack shot and martial artist as well.
Who knew?
One of Tyler's first assignments is to guard the
influential triad boss Hong, whose estranged daughter
Ah Hui (Candy Lo) has married Tyler's buddy-to-be,
Jack. Tyler and Jack's coincidental meetings (there
are a few jumbled together, including a chance meeting
at a supermarket) lead to a serious male-bond,
occasioned by the fact that Jack's former associates
have arrived in town, looking to force his cooperation
on one last job, namely, assassinating his
father-in-law. When Jack resists, the big meanies
kidnap Hui, who happens to be very pregnant at the
time. Hui's condition reminds Tyler of his own
idealized lady-love (the very one who wants nothing to
do with him), and so he convinces himself that he must
help Jack to rescue her.
In search of a huge stash of money ($10 million)
hidden in a locker at the Kowloon Train Station,
everyone ends up at the station, where Hui goes into
labor, her water splashes all over the floor as Tyler
drags her to relative safety in a back room. He then
works valiantly to help her give birth, and the scene
is not a little awful: his arms are bloodied to his
elbows, as her screams give away their position. Tyler
soon realizes that someone needs to keep watch while
he delivers the baby, and his drastically ingenious
solution is to give Hui his gun, so that, between
contractions, she can shoot down anyone who pokes his
head in the doorway. While this image of the violent
collision of life and death will remind some viewers
of Christopher McQuarrie's much uglier version of same
in Way of the Gun (and in Hong Kong last year, both
movies were reportedly in release at the same time),
it actually extends the metaphor, in that Hui does
give birth and the infant becomes yet another element
that Tyler must juggle while awaiting Jack's arrival
on the scene.
As the above (incomplete) summary demonstrates, Hark's
storylines (this one is scripted by Koan Hui) tend to
be simultaneously fractured and lushly romantic (not
unlike those of his Hong Kong action contemporaries,
Wong Kar-wai and John Woo), and his attentions tend to
focus on displacements and crises. He's best known for
his wuxia pictures (Swordsman II and Dragon Inn)
and his Once Upon a Time in China series with Jet
Li, all of which display Hark's interests in brash
stylistics as content: the actual narratives are less
interesting than the techniques he comes up with to
tell them. Together with co-cinematographers Ko Chiu Lam and Herman Yau, Hark here develops a peculiar hybrid of corny romance, bad fx (the burning building effect is straight-up lame), and seriously dynamic action scenes, all enhanced by fashionably jaggedy editing, timelapse speediness, slow motion, and ridiculous (in the good way) camera angles.