Wong Kar Wai's films are so multisensory and tapestry-like that I just want to devour them with a spoon. He and Christopher Doyle have made some of my favorite movies and when the films are over, I am as satisfied as if I had done everything I loved doing for the perfect amount of time. So it goes without saying that I was on board with this film even before seeing it. I was already convinced that I would love it, and I did no research on it beforehand so that every moment would be original and untainted by expectation or anticipation. Coming to the film was like coming to a dinner where I knew I would be served my favorite food.
I almost feel as though it's unfair for me to review this alongside any other film because it impacts me in such a personal way. Here is one of my favorite directors working with one of my favorite cinematographers and some of my favorite actors. If there are any flaws, I'd be willing to overlook them and chalk them up to character or charming imperfections, whereas any other film would get dinged for somehow dropping the ball. Luckily, there are no glaring flaws, so I didn't have to have an internal battle over how I should feel about it.
The plot is unclear, mysterious, labyrinthine. We see a man, Huang Yaoshi, who lives alone in the middle of nowhere, who is awaiting a friend of his. The friend, Ouyang Feng, comes bearing wine that makes you forget, and seems to be carrying the burden of his painful memories himself. We don't know who they are, only that Huang appears to be some kind of hitman, and his Ouyang to be pathologically attracted to and by women who are spoken for, destroying engagements as he passes. As Huang meets with other people who request his services, he finds a common thread among them: they yearn for something intangible and desperately cling to hope for finding peace.
A pair of siblings come to Huang with conflicting requests for revenge, and Huang is unable to accommodate them because they turn out to be the same heartbroken woman, scorned by Ouyang. Tony Leung Chiu Wai, who plays a blind swordsman, has a vague request for Huang which he is unable to persuade him to fulfill, and which Huang later discovers was not what it appeared to be, anyway. A woman comes to Huang, asking him to help her avenge her slain brother, but can only pay him in eggs. Another man, whom Huang subcontracts to do his dirty work, contends with his duty and his indomitable wife. All of these figures rotate around Huang, who harbors his own demons, and nurses his own broken heart and wounded pride. Wong Kar Wai's frequently used themes of loss, revelation and reflection seem so fresh and unrepetitive
For those familiar with Christopher Doyle's cinematographic style, I don't have to mention the visual splendor of the color scheme, startling landscapes and dramatic distortions. But for anyone doubting that a film like this might be worth seeing, think of it as a moving tableau. The light is positively heavy with emotion and sensuality, and everyone onscreen is so beautiful, even if not classically so. Every other review I have read, glimpsed, or heard reference to has said, even if they did not love the movie, that it is best seen on a big screen. Doyle works with images like a master violinist with his own craft. The mastery with which he and Wong Kar Wai communicate their visions is evident in how seamlessly the content and the appearance blend into a complete work of art.
I could wax poetic about this film all day, but it has already taken me far too long to write this review. Normally I'd end with a full-sized paragraph, but I just want to post this thing.
