tapestrytales

[tapestrytales]

27 and preparing for a post grad exam, in January, 2025. Nostalgia is beguiling. I don't want it. But I have to resist it to get rid. I can do better. I have been better. I will be better. Better enough to not want the past like this, not like this like a coward. Running away from a future that scares. I do not want the past like a sanctuary, it isn't a sanctuary. I want to run, outrun the groundhog, escape forwards and for real this time. GAH.

[tapestrytales]

Reblogging to read it later

Film Analysis: A Sequence from Chungking Express

by Ting-Jen Kuo

It was 2020, the start of Covid-induced online school. Finally I could watch the Oscars, mostly uninterrupted. Wave after wave of excitement washed over me as an Asian film took down Oscar after Oscar at the notoriously Western-dominated ceremony. Asian cinema is currently experiencing its second renaissance in the West thanks to the Korean film Parasite directed by Bong Joon-ho, who once said: “Once you overcome the one inch tall barrier of subtitles, you will be introduced to so many more amazing films.” For many, Parasite was their first foray into Asian cinema. As the catalogue of great Asian films is dauntingly extensive, those looking for more can be left at a loss as to what to watch next. Well, look no further.

Chungking Express (literal translation: Chungking Forest) is a 1994 film written and directed by Hong Kong based director Wong Kar-Wai. Known for its unconventional two-story sequence featuring two mostly unconnected storylines, two melancholy Hong Kong policemen who fall in love: one with a mysterious female underworld figure, the other with a beautiful and ethereal waitress at a late-night restaurant he frequents. Highlighted by contemporary Hong Kong’s bustling cityscape, it is a pioneering film featuring unique editing to depict a gripping story with themes of emotion, innocence, fate, and human connection.

Cultural Context

1994 Hong Kong was in its final years of British colonial rule, and was undergoing a series of significant governmental changes. A result of this, by extension, was that Hong Kong cinema had captured Western attention, giving rise to a new and more modern film industry. Films became more technologically sophisticated than ever before, and this in turn facilitated a boom in experimentation. Genres mixed and matched, and Hong Kong cinema was carried into international recognition, with Western film cultists attracted by their exotic and unorthodox qualities, granting these films an entry gate into wider popular culture. Director Wong Kar-Wai was carried by this new wave into spontaneously writing and filming the piece within six weeks, winning Best Picture and Best Director for it at the 1995 Hong Kong Film Awards and catapulting it into international limelight.

Film Elements

I have chosen a 5 minute sequence to break down in detail. The sequence I’ve chosen is a critical one in the film’s storyline, near the middle of the film. It serves as an end to the first story, and starts the introduction of a segue for the second story. In many ways, the two distinctly separate tales are not necessarily that much different. They both tell the tale of policemen in a generation of change chasing after lost love. This could be seen as a metaphor for Hong Kong’s situation in 1994: the policemen are the Hong Kong public, their unattainable love interests are symbols for the stability and independent sovereignty they are chasing for. However, in the end, they both still learn to be happy and live without their love interests, just like director Wong Kar-Wai is hopeful that the Hong Kong population will learn to accept the rule of mainland China.

Before my extract begins, policeman He Qiwu (Takeshi Kaneshiro), desperate for a girlfriend, has called every girl he’s ever known, and when all his efforts fail decides to get a drink at the Bottoms Up Club. He tells himself that he will forget about his ex-girlfriend May by falling in love with the first girl that walks into the club, who happens to be the woman in the blonde wig that the film has already introduced to the audience earlier on. Qiwu approaches her, however, she is exhausted from running, as the audience have followed before, and falls asleep in a hotel room, leaving Qiwu to watch old movies and order food. He shines her shoes before he leaves her sleeping on the bed.

My extract opens with a closeup shot of the freshly shined shoes highlighted naturally by bluish light streaming from the window, with the background of Qiwu leaving and closing the door behind him. Following this is a closeup shot of the woman’s face when she gets woken up by the door closing, which is a first in the film. This increases the intimacy and decreases distance between audience and character, as the act of waking up is a private activity. Although she is still wearing sunglasses, the audience can definitely see her emotions clearer, making her less mysterious.

Then the film cuts to a shaky, handheld shot tracking Qiwu run across the road from a high angle, strongly suggesting that the woman is watching him from above in the hotel room, and signifying her caring, foreshadowing later events. The fading in of several weather and setting establishing shots increases connection for the viewer between the first event and the next: of Qiwu leaving and jogging, fulfilling his recurring promises to ‘get rid of his moisture’ after a breakup by sweating the tears off. The multiple jogging scenes feature the camera tracking Qiwu, keeping him in center frame as he jogs, creating the image of him getting nowhere. As the cuts get closer in distance to the character, the non-diegetic voice over offers an insight into Qiwu’s thoughts. The long takes and Kaneshiro’s convincing performance convey the desperation in which Qiwu is trying to reach his ex girlfriend.

In the following scene, the way the camera stays with the pager as Qiwu leaves the running field, signifying that he is leaving his past behind. As the pager rings and Qiwu retrieves it, sprinting into the distance, the camera stays stationary, symbolising his emotional development as he receives a earlier message from the woman wishing him a happy birthday, moving away from his past self.

The film cuts abruptly to the drug baron who set the woman up before and the bartender. Apart from the first scene, in the subsequent scenes they are never depicted together, shown in different lighting, connoting distance and unfamiliarity, they don’t really know each other at all.

When the drug baron heads outside for a drink, he notices something on the floor and crouches down. The audience gets a warning of impending danger as the camera suddenly cuts behind him, showing the approach of the woman pointing a gun at him. A unique shaky sequence of low frame rate blurred images unfolds next, with the camera pulling up to the baron’s face and his realisation as he turns around. We suddenly inhabit the baron’s point of view in multiple shots, such as when the woman shoots him, and when the camera sits at a dutch angle, recreating the low angle view of the dying baron, again in low frame rate to emphasise the point.

The cuts are shaky and fast, depicting scenes of chaos: people escaping in the rain, with the bartender still dancing in front of the jukebox in drunk ignorance. There is also a revelation of identity on the woman’s part: she finally drops her wig which she has been wearing for the whole film, and the audience sees her real hair for a split second. This symbolises the undoing of the drug baron’s influence. Earlier in the film, the audience sees the drug baron put an identical wig on the bartender, so the wig can be seen as a symbol for the baron’s current lover. The woman is free through the action of dropping the wig, and of course, killing the baron.

What follows is a carefully composed close shot pan that reveals the tin can with an expiry date of 1 May 1994 on it, the motif of the whole story. Qiwu used this to countdown the days to his birthday and the ‘official’ breakup for him and his girlfriend. An extreme closeup is used in this instance.

Chungking Express is that rare film that shows a different yet true to life perspective on loss, both romantically, and by extension culturally within its context.

[tapestrytales]

One moment you are catching momentum in your study sessions and the other you just feel sick, vulnerable and unsure. Scared. You have kind of lost yourself in the insecurities and lies that have come from it. One can't just wait for their best version to happen to seize an opportunity and think themselves worthy of it. You just have to choose to dare instead of trying to be perfect, and let God help you. Put up a fight taking off your earring, do it with a broken heart.

[tapestrytales]

I love Octobers, Novembers and Decembers. And falls and winters. And how things settle when the temperature falls. Everything decides to be on its best behavior. Calm and warm. I love mornings and hearty, fulfilling breakfasts by the windows with pretty views. And reading regional authors. Wearing nice jewelry and pretty lipstick in the shade of mauve and dull rosy pink. And being knowledgeable. And practicing evidence-based medicine. Being pretty, charming and brainy, and accomplished. And seeing my parents happy, and my brothers fulfilled. And giving presents. And walks. And talking to God about what's up, and telling Him how I love Him and His blessings, and sharing my day with Him.

[tapestrytales]

As a kid I wasn't the most wanted being in my life, not at home, not in my extended family, not among the girls at school. So I found solace in academics, the one thing I could win at. And books, and stories, and writing. I was still an insecure kid but I was also very confident.

As a grown up it's different. Especially. You tend to have your vulnerable moments the more you're exposed to this world and life and it's atrocities. The things you found solace in can become a weak link and you lose balance. You fall. Face down. On cold cruel concrete of the outside world. That has always been here waiting for you to step out of your warm tent of childhood hopes and imagination.

[tapestrytales]

The lies you tell yourself to work things around the way things are.

'Oh that's just how it is, it's fine.'

The joy that you lost from the lack of what should have been but never was.

The way you scrunch yourself into a cocoon, because your wings were too big for..

The fabric you altered short

Piece by piece, darning your holes

fabricating flowers

Tying orts hanging loose with your lies

To make sense of things they way things are.

[tapestrytales]

It sucks. Sucks really bad sometimes. You're 26 years and 10 months old, preparing for this postgraduate exam, and all of your greatest (or biggest, because they didn't feel great) losses and fumbles loom around you while you're already here struggling to get through this one chapter of Neurosciences. Now, what do you do? Try and get through your losses? Or power through this fucking slow, the most mind-numbing chapter that you really need to cover. E from Medicine rotation was so much better than you, doing researches aiming for the best speciality in the US, and networking, all while looking pretty and having a great friend group, and a promising love life. Or R from 6th grade, who got into med school two years later than you but is already on her way to residency in one of the best places. Where are you though? On your desk, no friends, no acquaintances, exam 30 days away and your momentum sucks. And not that great prospects in sight either. It sucks because how did we get here. How did we exactly? You wish you'd stepped out more because you were supposed to be better at 27. In a different place, more stable...just better. It sucks. You're lonely, broke and sad and it just sucks because you were THAT KID, and now you're THIS ADULT?? And it sucks because education is your only way out of this place, the reason you've been so held back in life, this god-damned place, how did you not remember? In all those moments of inhibitions and restrictions...ugh. You wish you'd rebelled wisely, and not given in. You wish you'd lived for yourself a little bit.

You see, I was a debutante in another life,

but

Now I seem to be scared to go outside

[tapestrytales]

Inadequacy, ugh. A recurring state. Honestly, being 26, and an intern navigating through exams, life and career while trying to be your better self is so hard.

[tapestrytales]

Anger. So strong, you can feel the warmth from the blood-rush spread in your arm, the veins in your forehead tighten, a current goes across. So intense, you feel your head pulsate. The glass in your head has hit the wall and shattered into a tiny, million shards. The greater the anger, the greater the number of shards, the tinier each fragment. Anger, so helpless and lonely, you're scared that if you don't talk about it, it'll consume you from inside like termite. Anger so big, you run out of places to hide it. Anger so tame, you can't even throw things and break them, because none of that can withhold it or help it, and you're not your meek Dad or your uncouth brother. Anger so cruel, you're scared if you let it out it'll kill them, and if you don't, it might kill you. Anger, an unannounced old acquaintance knocking on your door at 2:45 AM

[tapestrytales]

Everyone knows a little something about difficult 2:18 AMs, when you're haunted by your worst monsters. Toxic emotionally traumatized and traumatizing mother. An absentee Dad who overworks and blames mom. A violent, malicious older brother, that your mom can't stand up to. Families are difficult, especially when they are. And when you live under the same roof it's the worst. It's suffocating, scary, maddening, angering and just all kinds of frustrating. 2:18 AMs when you can't sleep scared of how tomorrow will unfold, despite trying to be hopeful, they're some of the longest nights ever.

[tapestrytales]

Weary traveller, traversing the same path over and over again. You have been here before, you have walked this walk. Sick and forlorn. Trying to hold on to dear life for dear life, to pettiest of joys. October mornings, and.....well, October mornings is all we have on the list today. Escaping from yesterday's memories of war.

[tapestrytales]

Sometimes I feel like that window period of someone falling in love with me has passed. It's supposed to happen when you're at your best, with the best to give to the world. Whereas I am at my absolute worst with nothing left inside of me to give. I have become a rotten mess, who wishes they'd met their true potential. In fact right now would have been a great time for the person in love with me to remind me why I am absolutely worth it and that I should get back up. Right now would have been a great time to be reminded of the fact that I have genuinely got it. It sucks that all my life was wasted and not one good relationship or friendship was formed. Not one good career prospect. Nothing. I'll be seven and twenty and no different than how I was at my 16 or 17 or 18. At my absolute low in my absolute worst form, with my mom around to remind me of the worst parts of me. Fuck.

[tapestrytales]

It's a scary thought. Being left behind. Not reaching your true potential. Running out of it halfway. Watching them all pass you by, because the world doesn't stop ever. Survival of the fittest. I truly believe God exists, my only woe is how unresponsive He has been. Things suck. I am on my own, and I am not good enough to be on my own. But I am on my own. Not our best shot but our only shot.

[tapestrytales]

2:24 AM • September 17th, 2024 — A Tuesday

Anything but harmony.

I crave solitude, freedom, sense of accomplishment, and buttercream cake.