Chungking Express: On Celebrating Grief and Vulnerability
There is no doubt that Wong Kar Wai’s Chungking Express (1994) is, and always be, a film that I could never be tired of rewatching. It’s a paradox. I couldn’t help but be invaded by heaps of melodramatic and somber sentiment, yet enamoured by the chaotic clash of motions and colours on every frame.
In a fast-moving world where perfection is immensely encouraged, there is no such space for grief or vulnerability, at the very least. Instead, Wong Kar Wai’s films celebrate vulnerability as one of many values that make humans– human.
Wong Kar Wai’s magnum opus In The Mood For Love (2000) exhibits a lustful, wine-red claustrophobic universe of apartment buildings and noodle stalls that the two main protagonists often brush off. It is immensely intense; one couldn’t help but go after Chow and Mrs. Chan’s affair from behind.
Meanwhile, Chungking Express gave me the impression of blue. Blue, often used to depict sadness and grief, is a recurring premise. However, unlike In The Mood For Love, the film exists in a floating, dreamlike, seems-to-be fictional Hong Kong. That reflects on the English title, an amalgam of Hong Kong’s notorious Chungking Mansion and Midnight Express, the snack store Faye Wong’s character works at.
Heartbreak is the recurring theme of Chungking Express, and nothing can somehow impact this cold-blooded soul the way the first half of the film did. In the first arc, we see Cop 233 (Takeshi Kaneshiro) occupied in his hurtful breakup-collecting canned pineapples with the expiry date of May 1st– a nod to his ex’s name, one month since they called it quit and his birthday. “May loves pineapple, and we broke up on April 1st, which sounds like a joke,” he narrates. He succumbed to his sorrow, devouring cans of pineapples. The next thing he did was call her past lovers in the hope of reconciliation and perhaps words of affirmation.
The same night he meets a blonde-wig woman that turns out to be a notorious drug smuggler, and they engage in a seemingly uncanny bond. One should never forget this particular excerpt from their conversation:
“知道一个人并不意味着保持其 (Knowing someone does not mean keeping them).”
In a fast-moving world where perfection is immensely encouraged, there is no such space for grief or vulnerability, at the very least. Instead, Wong Kar Wai’s films celebrate vulnerability as one of many values that make humans– human.
I recalled crying to sleep every night over an irresponsible man in my younger days. Amid my grief, I keep coming back to the world of Chungking Express. Think about when you went to this party, and the whole bunch didn’t give a damn about everything.
I always think of revisiting the world of Chungking Express as a part of my solace. In the world of Chungking Express, I can always eat nearly expired canned pineapple while sobbing over past lovers. Or imagine “how it could have been” while Dinah Washington is playing in the background. Or, maybe, groove into Californian Dreamin’, wondering whether California will remain a dream.
Once the party ends, all we need is the blonde-wig woman to pat our back and say gently,
“hey, life goes on.”