As anyone who has followed The Memory Tourist lately will know, I’ve been in a weird headspace. There have been days of loneliness, itself leading to stress and misunderstanding of my place in the world. Even as I try to push through, it’s sometimes difficult to ever feel like you can escape these emotions, needing validation from a friend who exists in your mind in the abstract. During a pandemic, it feels especially so because how does one have a regular social life? Even if you get together with someone, there is a new level of concern that cuts the intimacy in half. All I want is a person like that, who will sit on the couch and assure me that these problems will pass and that we’ll do something as mundane as drive alongside the beach, staring out at The Pacific Ocean and seeing for forever.
It may be the major reason that Chungking Express (1994) resonated so much with me. The film is nothing but the inherent loneliness that one experiences in limbo between relationships. Director Wong Kar-Wai starts the film among a crowd of strangers, walking as if in a simulation. It’s hard to know if they’re real, following a protocol that seems to balance the socioeconomic structure. A rift in this continuum comes when a police officer chases a woman, the camera slowing down. At the moment it looks like law trying to control order, but as the audience quickly discovers, this is a “love” story. They count down the hours until these characters have fateful encounters that reveal their longing for something greater.
No matter how much time passes, the characters grow more melancholic. As they stare into another glass of alcohol slowly, the crowd moves faster, turning into a blur. Time stands still for that heartbroken man, looking for a reason to get up and join the procession. He has grown irrational as he notices patterns in his life. He’s broken up with two girls named May on April Fools Day. Was it all a joke? In order to process everything, he decides to buy pineapple that expires on the same day, believing that if she doesn’t come back by then that everything is over. It becomes increasingly difficult to track down those cans, but his stubbornness leads him to one of the most daunting eating scenes of 90s cinema.
This is the most popular story in Chungking Express solely because of how familiar it may feel. Everyone who experiences some form of loneliness or desperation tries to find order in their life. As irrational as tracking down pineapple may seem, the painful backstory creates this self-inflicted order that conveys everything else about the movie perfectly. It doesn’t have to make sense to anyone else. So long as he has those cans, he’ll find peace. There is that optimism that the irrationality will give way to some greater revelation. If he keeps holding out, then maybe she’ll return. If you think this is crazy, just know that it’s no different than rituals at sporting events, believing that you in any way control the cosmic forces that could impact the game.
This is also a microcosm of what I think makes the film endearing to me in a quiet way. Yes, it is because I recognize the loneliness and how it attracts us to irrational patterns. It’s the way that a crowd feels unnatural, making me feel like I’m outside the order. However, I think it also embodies coping mechanisms that aren’t unlike feeling like an “other.” Anyone who has had to deal with anything that goes against the social norms will recognize the feeling of not belonging, whether it be due to physical or mental handicaps, or even sexual orientation. For me personally, Chungking Express is an utter delight because it unintentionally feels like one of the most autistic movies I’ve seen.
To be fair, I’m not saying that every character here is neurodivergent. While I could make cases for a few being on the spectrum, the one that stands out the most is Faye (Faye Wong). What’s brilliant is that if you’re not looking for it, most signs are invisible and don’t impact your judgment of the character. Considering recent battles from the autism community regarding Sia’s Music (2021), I definitely think there’s a conversation that needs to be had about positive representation. I think there has been some recently – I Am Greta (2020), Loop (2020) – but Music embodies what happens when that conversation is limited to stereotypes. I won’t get into it, but the recent Golden Globes nominations were very frustrating.
Do I think that Kar-Wai set out to make an autistic character? Without doing further research, I can’t say that Hong Kong’s mental health understanding was much better than stateside. I think it unintentionally stemmed from ideas of obsession that lonely people feel, and thus gets into something more implicit. I didn’t self-identify as autistic until 2019, but I had those emotions and thoughts. They were always there. Whether you want to call them neurodivergent or not, I’ve lived with them, and nobody thought twice about it. While there are those more likely to need caretakers, there are plenty who can navigate the world on their own. They have struggles, but it’s far from the exaggerated depiction that attracts awards attention.
Remember the man with the pineapples? I think it’s one of the best ways to get to the most familiar aspect of neurodivergence. It’s the hyper-focus on something, obsessing over details that the world may have missed. There is a dysfunction that happens if they do not achieve certain rituals. Given the disconnection that some autistics feel from regular society (ex: not picking up on cues), it makes sense to see him getting yelled at for his crazy goals. Who would want expiring pineapple? While this is irrational by nature, it reflects the ways that we cope. It makes sense that he’s attracted to a woman that is herself masking an identity under a wig and coat, using the expiration date to plan a rival’s murder.
But back to Faye. I LOVE Faye. While there’s no definitive proof that she’s neurodivergent, it didn’t take me long to start picking up on the clues. There was that faint hope that I was right but doubted myself since characters like this were rarely written that densely. It started with the first utterance of The Mamas and The Papas’ “California Dreamin’” as she works at a small diner, giving a police officer the chef’s salad again (another possible sign of obsession, as it reflects favoring of certain meals). She doesn’t think to turn down the radio, instead yelling over it.
Part of me knew that “California Dreamin’” was going to be designed as a recurring motif, so the repetition was another tip-off. Like the obsessions, a repetitive pattern can be comfortable. When she shakes her hands amid a conversation later, it’s a way to reflect her excitement (stimming). I won’t say she’s the most positive, as she does break into his apartment later and reorganizes everything to promote a more productive lifestyle. Still, there are things depicted here that I recognized as autism. It’s the way that she dances to The Cranberries cover, again a form of stimming. It’s how she meticulously cleans and squeals with happiness when she finds one of his hairs. Sure, this is an extreme example of neurodivergence’s struggle with boundary issues, but accompany that with the need for order and forgetfulness that causes his apartment to flood and the diner to lose power, it all lines up a bit.
I’m a bit disappointed that the general conversation around Faye has been less favorable and reflective of why I feel we need better knowledge. While I saw so much that qualifies as positive representation, I discovered that the otherwise astute Amy Nicholson commented on Unspooled that Faye was “alien” or like a “fairy.” In the smaller picture, that’s fine since neurodivergence is often seen as an “other” and we get lobbed in with robots way more than we should. However, I think the fact that she didn’t see Faye as real felt alarming. Given that Music isn’t likely to normalize the conversation, it’s unlikely that the general public will appreciate the complexity of the human mind.
Of course, I could be wrong. Like the pineapples, I’m finding symbolism where there isn’t any. Many may even (unfairly) label Faye as a progenitor for Manic Pixie Dream Girl. She’s only out for herself, desiring to go to California. It’s why she keeps playing that song, vibing to the bridge (it is a great bridge), and existing sometimes in her own world. I love it because of how little attention is drawn to certain aspects of her differentness. She’s allowed to be neurodivergent without anyone coddling her plot. It’s delightful and so fulfilling, especially given that the American counterpart that same year was Forrest Gump (1994). I don’t hate that movie, but I understand those neurodivergent people who likely heard those comparisons enough to resent it.
I look forward to hearing anyone else with ASD look at this film and tell me if they feel the same way. I understand that a lot of these thoughts dovetail with depression or loneliness, but I guess that’s what is amazing about the human brain. While it’s important to celebrate differences, there are small things that connect us, able to understand these complex but recognizable emotions. Chungking Express at the end of the day is about longing to be in love, trying to find optimism when you have nobody to share that with. It’s in noticing the small, sometimes useless, details that we pass the time and desire some greater meaning in this life.
Overall, this is just a great movie that is perfectly directed to convey these characters. It’s the type of film that proves how international cinema is more than droll dramas. It’s as much about creating your own language, embracing the cool American imports, and finding ways to adapt it to your country’s sensibilities. Sure, this could be argued as being too much of a fusion, but the emotions underneath those Mama and The Papas and The Cranberries cues are genuine to their experience. It’s cool and fresh, using eastern philosophy in new and brilliant ways.
I am thankful to admit that I feel less lonely than when I watched this less than a week ago. That isn’t to say that the melancholy sometimes overwhelms me. However, it’s all about perspective. What do we do to make it through every day? Sometimes it takes small repetitive patterns to give us the sanity, the need to wear costumes in public or continue to chase that order until we catch it. This film is undeniably cool and I love how it does so without wallowing in self-pity. There is honesty in every decision here. These are genuine humans (even Faye), and reflective of how we can all be lonely but still find a reason to keep going. That’s just how life is sometimes.
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