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Review:
The brief for the segments included in the original Three (three countries, three directors, three films, geddit?) was simply that it be something to do with ghosts. The Korean and Thai segments both took this literally, and crafted straighforward ghost films. Peter Chan Ho Sun, however, took this opportunity to create a multi-layered offering combining ghost movie, thriller, medical drama, love story, and tragedy, all wrapped together in a beautiful Chris Doyle package. Don't just take my word for it, however: check out the list of awards this segment has won in the LoveHKFilm review to see why everyone else was fairly impressed.
Chris Doyle shows his colours early on: the camera follows Eric Tsang as Wai, with his son Cheung, as they trundle baggage down alleys towards a temporary apartment in an old building scheduled for demolition. The emptiness of the alleys and yard sets a sombre tone. This is underscored by the colour palette: the film is a sea of muted greeny-grey, evoking chill loneliness in the midst of teeming, semi-tropical Hong Kong. Only one dissenting colour shows: the little girl who lures Cheung off to play wears a striking red velvet dress.
This aura of loneliness is augmented by the fact that Wai and Cheung have only one neighbour: a reclusive mainland doctor, played by Leon Lai Ming. Leon won a Best Actor from the Golden Horse awards in Taiwan for this, and I think he well deserved it. His portrayal of Yu Fei is understated and subtle, especially in the early stages, when we're presented with Fai as possible villain. Wai certainly sees Fei as villain, and when Cheung disappears, he breaks into Fei's apartment hoping to find his son there. Although we know that Cheung has gone off to play with the unnamed girl in the red dress, Cheung's continued absence offers a did-he-didn't-he question that we can never entirely dismiss. The fact that Fei conks Wai over the head then ties him up only makes the confusion worse.
The interactions between Lai and Tsang, and between Lai and Yuan, who plays Lai's paralysed wife, paint a fine picture of a good man coping with an extraordinary situation. In particular, his continued gentleness towards his prisoner, and his loving attention towards his wife, show a highly-evolved soul with unshakable convictions, no matter what the provocation.
I'm going to give some major spoilers here, so if you don't want your viewing experience spoiled by foreknowledge, here's the place to stop.
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Spoilers ahead!
Okay, now we can get right down to it. The crucial point that so disarms Wai, and convinces him that Fei is responsible for his son's disappearance, is that, when Wai breaks into the apartment, he finds Fei's wife in a herbal bath. Under the surface. Not breathing. Sort of deadish, to be brutally honest. He leaps to the obvious conclusion that Fei is a bit of a nutter, and persistently begs Fei to free the boy. Fei, of course, explains that his wife had liver cancer, and that the herbal baths are part of a three-year (that number again!) treatment to allow her body to cure itself, at which time her spirit will return and she'll live again. Hmmm. A likely story, especially when Fei freely admits that he strangled her at her request. Hmmm once again.
What's interesting here is the way our opinion of Fei is turned around: when we first see him, carrying a rubbish bag leaking some unknown fluid, we are ready to suspect him of any number of evil deeds. But as we watch him tend his wife, trimming her hair and nails, washing and dressing her, and spinning her wheelchair around like a lovestruck schoolboy, we begin to think that maybe he's not quite as dangerous as we thought. He talks to her constantly, reminding her of how they met in medical school, and planning their return to the mainland, and all the while his face and demeanour show only love, devotion, and patient expectation.
It's only once we sympathise with Fei that we're dealt the full tragedy of the situation. The intrusion of the police as Fei is about to release Wai provokes a truly shocking moment (and not only for the bad CGI). There was no prolonging of the scene in order to wring out the maximum pathos. It was simply an abrupt tragedy, leaving Fei and his wife on his 'n' hers mortuary slabs. It's only then that we're given the reason for Fei's rock-hard certainty about the efficacy of the procedure. Wai rewatches the tape that played endlessly during his captivity, and finds footage that's eerily similar, but in this case, it's the wife who's lovingly tending a pale and motionless Fei.
While there is a ghost motif as a subthread, the main emphasis of this film is on the steadfast love of the couple at the centre of the piece, complemented by the love between Wai and Cheung. The ghost story is woven into the main story in such a way as to add poignancy to the finale, and it does so comfortably and consistently, without looking tacked on. Meantime, the love and loss of Fei and his wife seem to mirror the roles of the mainland and Hong Kong: the hope of one is betrayed by the desperate pragmatism of the other. There are miracles, but they can be sabotaged just like anything else. And it's this aspect that gives the air of a true tragedy, and makes the film work so well: even though their love is as pure as any romantic could want, and their medical miracle ready to go, the lovers are pipped at the final post by human intervention. Not evil, but doubt.
I'd better stop here, or Mark will start charging me rent by the megabyte. Suffice to say that I found this film an excellent and moving work, and well deserving of its awards. 9 herbal baths out of 10 by Alison Jobling back to the top
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