Five months ago now, I corrected an egregious error when I watched Chungking Express (1994) for the first time. My initial drive was simple. Having heard people consider it an international version of a film that might’ve been distributed by MTV Studios, releasing in the wake of Quentin Tarantino distributing every foreign film that made him salivate, I was immediately drawn to it. While I recognize it as a story that’s distinctively set in Hong Kong, the core emotions were universal, capturing a loneliness that I’d argue millions around the world face. There was style, genre-blending, and a compelling take on humanity that took simple tasks like expiring food and turned it into the greatest allegory about a failing relationship.
To say the least, I was immediately attracted to Wong Kar-Wai, who has remained one of the most acclaimed world directors who is also still working. The Criterion Collection recently released a complete collection of his films and their streaming service has subsequently spent the past few months highlighting his work. It was time for me to play catch-up, and what I came away with was the revelation that given enough time, he may end up being one of my favorite directors, if not one of my favorite discoveries of 2021 alongside Jennifer Reeder and Chantal Akerman.
It has been a while since I’ve seen a filmmaker who has been so adept at bringing something so essential yet diverse to the romantic drama. From the four films I’ve seen, including the masterpiece In the Mood for Love (2000), I’ve seen him take these archetypes and explore their everyday lives with an honesty that is unmatched. These are often unrequited loves, limited to a moment in time that is so romanticized that Kar-Wai gets you caught up in the ambiance. The music swells and you believe that life will never get better than this. The bittersweet kicks in when you realize that reality exists just outside the frame, waiting to pull our lovers apart. They speak with such poetic grace that this feels like a vulnerable look into the artist’s soul. These are lines that cause noticeable shifts even in how you sit watching the film, having parts of your soul altered forever.
It’s cinematic, at times feeling reminiscent of artists like Francois Truffaut. Like Kar-Wai, Truffaut was a romantic at heart, needing to explore the human condition and the ways that we connect to each other. He also had a very obvious affection for film as an art form, incorporating ideas and pastiche into his more sincere narratives, making the magical illusion of film feel richer. Whereas others have a noticeable artifice, Truffaut and Kar-Wai are so in touch with their characters’ motivations that even the shift of a color filter, a move into film noir, or a kitschy song choice holds this deeper weight. Everything has a deliberateness that only helps to emphasize what’s so great about giving in to your emotions.
Which makes Happy Together (1997) an interesting entry. This came only a few years after Chungking Express, at the height of his arguable commercial powers. As someone who found something special in everyday life, there was intrigue to him focusing on a gay love story. It’s a film that would win Best Director at Cannes and was nominated for the Palme d’Or. Many consider it among the best queer Asian stories of the 1990s. Compared to other benchmarks of the time, including the works of Gregg Araki, Cheryl Dunye, and Rose Troche, it’s definitely an accomplishment searing with emotion. More than a story of love, it’s a story about trying to overcome personal alienation.
Yes, the title is ironic. For as much as Kar-Wai tends to end his stories with a stroke of heartache, I wouldn’t necessarily call him a cynical filmmaker. There is a sense of longing that makes this desire feel important, even crucial to humanity. The main difference is that even as the characters enter realms of melancholy, Kar-Wai dives into the visceral. Visually, he incorporates symbolism like an overhead shot of a waterfall and makes it have this more profound and even meditative subject. A conversation about how listening is more powerful than seeing conveys an almost invisible texture that illuminates the very themes of the film. It’s still a very artful film, but one so grounded in logic and understanding that it never feels overbearing. It encourages outside experience to inform the text, and in doing so makes a sublime experience.
Like most of his work, Happy Together is even obsessed with something intangible. His characters have a longing to escape Hong Kong. This symbolizes the idea of escapism, that someplace far away will somehow free them of some invisible burden. At the start of the film, they’re seen in a stylish flashback on the side of the road. Their car’s broken down and there’s a sense that the order of events to follow may be out of whack. It’s reflective of their internal logic, trying to cope with the past while moving forward. They’re in some ways damaged, stuck in a moment. Will they ever reach their destination?
As the story progresses, the film shifts to a film noir-style atmosphere. One is a bouncer, itself symbolic of people he will let into this private club. The other happens to stroll through, in some ways creating Casablanca (1942), reveling in a heartbreak that they thought was behind them. From the rearview mirror of a moving car, the bouncer watches on, once again finding himself attempting to be driven away but never quite losing him. Given that the location, Argentina, was sold as a paradise during and after World War II with Hollywood films like Saludos Amigos (1942) and Down Argentine Way (1940), there’s already a suggestive clashing of sorts. While it’s more likely that Kar-Wai was more referencing the darker Alfred Hitchcock classic Notorious (1946), it’s easy to read into this location as somehow symbolizing a last moment of peace before things fall apart.
The legacy of Happy Together has been one of mixed reception. While it’s a hallmark of queer cinema, some see the suffering and misery to be a negative stereotype. Even the use of the ironic title makes some feel like there’s a sick joke to be had. With all of this said, some have argued that its toxic chemistry was itself realistic enough to convey more human emotions inside. The codependency that gave way to nasty fights is something anyone has faced in a relationship. The immobilization of an injured lover causes one to be compromised to the other, in some ways creating insecurity for the caregiver and sterilization for the one whose arm is slung in a cast, in need of assistance over the most trivial of things.
It’s a perverse sense of love, but not one that’s all that abstract. Much like the best of Kar-Wai, he has an introspection that carries through like electricity in the air. The poetic quotes reflect a mix of frustration and regret, a longing for past mistakes to be reconsidered. These characters have learned and evolved, but there is still always that part of them that longs to correct what drove them apart. Should they have? It is, after all, a toxic relationship and one that doesn’t end feeling the most compatible even when it’s at its steamiest, finding sex and intimacy as this thriving necessity in their lives.
Because what is the alternative but loneliness? It’s an abstinence that brings a certain level of fear. It has been suggested that while the title’s most obvious connotation refers to the romantic love, it’s also about the individual and their ability to be happy as a person. With nobody else to guide them, just lonely nights in bars that recount where they used to dance and celebrate, it’s scary to think that one can be happy alone. Then again, a bar insinuates dating culture, a need to connect even if just for a night. There is a desperation in everyone to either hookup or get so wasted that the absence feels less real.
To return to a point I made earlier, the story’s big revelation comes in a conversation at one of these bars. Someone claims that due to having poor eyesight as a child, he used to listen. The nature of one’s elocution was able to determine their true emotions. Whereas the facial expressions (or, in cinematic language, the visuals) could be altered and misconstrue intent, a voice rarely faltered. A simple lull could express disappointment, or a lilt might mean a rise in interest. Most importantly, its purpose in Happy Together reflects a need to focus on something subconscious, almost spiritual by nature. Do we see or listen to those we love? Do we think to give them appreciation when there’s slight distress in their voice? The most powerful notes of Kar-Wai’s story are in the silence, reflecting an absence of distraction – of a mind so clear and in forward momentum.
The metaphorical car is once again in motion. The letters present the few correspondences that will connect them. There’s imagery such as lighthouses to symbolize this solitude, of a guiding force among chaotic waters. Even the way that Kar-Wai flips Hong Kong upside down for a few frames is mesmerizing, showing a perspective of something long gone. It changes the familiar so distinctly, like how a lover could make everyday life feel like it has some deeper meaning, an inside joke perhaps that lingers in your memory and giving you that ounce of melancholic joy. It is bittersweet but it’s also beautiful.
While I don’t love Happy Together as much as Chungking Express or In the Mood for Love, that isn’t to discredit how much his work has transported me each time that I’ve sat down to watch something. It can be argued that all of his films share the same thematic undertones regarding love, but what is impressive is how they appear in every walk of life. Along with a futuristic sci-fi sequel to Chungking Express (that’s right) in 2046 (2004), I am left very impressed with how he finds the humanity in these genre tropes, elevating it to high art. Visually, there are few as provocative, likely to be shared by Every Frame A Painting-style Twitter accounts. His work is as beautiful as his characters’ souls. This is art at its finest.
Wong Kar-Wai is the type of filmmaker whose work I finish and immediately wonder what else I can watch. He is a unique talent who I feel understands something instinctually about great storytelling. He understands how an image can persuade emotions, an idea about the every day can hold this deeper meaning. A phrase needs to be held in your palm, able to linger as you press it to your heart, hoping for osmosis. There is a reason that he’s permeated international cinema so well. He doesn’t write to a specific audience. In some respect, he writes to the lonely hearts inside all of us, all stuck on this mortal coil trying to make the most of it.
What else does he have to say? I’m genuinely curious. More than any other filmmaker that I’ve watched in 2021, he is someone who feels like he is saying something more substantial. He doesn’t do this with grand storytelling that makes you feel smart. He does it through ideologies and symbolism, allowing everyday life to feel more meaningful. Along with the excellent Long Day’s Journey Into Night (2018) by director Bai Gan, I’ve rarely been so inspired by absence, by the melancholic search for closure that may never come. Sometimes it requires an insular journey that is horrifying and takes years to reach any revelation. As the title suggests, sometimes being happy together isn’t so much about a person, but parts of oneself, of listening and hearing what is needed in a life. It may be fragile but once it is achieved, a deeper emotion can form. You may not know what it is now, but you’ll recognize it when you feel it.
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