Showing posts with label Wong Kar Wai. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wong Kar Wai. Show all posts

Thursday, December 26, 2019

"2046, The Past" - THE PEACOCK: The Prof (23 November 2019)


The year is 2046. Outside, there is a place where nothing changes. An intergalactic train can take you there, but only one person has ever returned. Inside are the ghosts of the past. In between exist memory, melancholia, and myth. 

This is Hong Kong, neither past perfect nor the future progressive, as speculatively rendered in the film 2046 (2004) by Wong Kar-wai. Considered an oblique follow up to his earlier In the Mood for Love (2000), which was set in the 1960s, the disjointed stories of the director’s later film circulate betwixt everlasting nostalgia and the impending unknown. 

The year of the film’s title signals when Hong Kong’s special administrative status ceases. A colony of Britain until its 99-year lease of the region ended in 1997, Hong Kong’s reversion to Chinese rule was buffered by an allowance for it to function in semi-autonomy for another 50 years. However, what the last few months have made evident to the world is that Hong Kong’s youth seek sovereignty. 



Long before this year’s pro-democracy protests and the Umbrella Revolution of 2014, films from Hong Kong have grappled with questions of cultural and political uncertainty. May Fung’s meditation on these matters takes on a mystical quality in the short film She Said Why Me (1989). Most recently screened publicly as part of the exhibition Five Artists: Sites Encountered (2019) at Kowloon’s M+ Museum, the digital print fossilizes the grainy quality of the original VHS recording, rendering it even more esoteric. In it, a woman walks from an ancient temple located in Hong Kong’s countryside to the towering architecture of the busy city. As she makes her away across the enclave’s landscape, beginning at a site that is emblematic of tradition and the past and finishing in the present of urban modernity, her steps are hesitant despite being upon the familiar terrain of her homeland. She is blindfolded. Arms outstretched, her sightless perambulation hints at Hong Kong’s indeterminate future. 

Made in the years before Hong Kong’s handover, Fung’s work captures the anxieties of a land on the precipice of change. At IFFI 2019, other films similarly portray contemporary angst across the globe. All produced this year, several of these features make their Asia or India debut here in Goa. The festival’s opening film, Italy’s Despite the Fog, springs from the crisis that has brought political refugees to Europe’s shores. Hearts and Bones is also about refugees, but in Australia. Climate change is the subject of the eleven short movies that comprise the multi-country Interdependence, while an environmental apocalypse wreaks havoc in The Halt/Ang Hupa from the Philippines.  

Occurring in 2034, The Halt’s cataclysmic view telescopes current fears into yonder years, mirroring the unstable narrative of the futuristic dreamscape that is 2046. These forward-looking films urge us to look back from the future. As today’s Hong Kong struggles to establish its political will, the cinematic legacy leading up to this moment envisions multiple possibilities, even if tentatively. This, not in didactic storytelling, but in the very form of the films that emerged in this period of ambiguity.  
Writing about 2046, Roger Ebert remarked on how the film was late to arrive at Cannes 2003: “[T]he final reel reportedly arrived at the airport almost as the first was being shown. It was said to be unfinished … [T]here were skeletal special effects that now appear in final form, but perhaps it was never really finished in [Kar-wai’s] mind.”

The future, then, as this may suggest is uncertain precisely because its past is always present, forever a time to foresee differently.

From The Peacock.

Saturday, June 21, 2014

"Avoid the Mansion" - THE GOAN: I'm Not Here (21 June 2014)




I had visited Hong Kong for the first time shortly before the British were to return the city-state to China. There was a palpable sense of uncertainty on the island. I wondered if this is how it had been in Goa in 1961 as the enclave lingered between Portugal and India. My layover in Hong Kong was on the return journey from what had been my first visit back to Goa after I had emigrated to California. Already, I missed being with family and friends. 

Seeking a sense of familiarity, I followed the spice route – or at least the fragrance of spices – in the narrow hallways of the building in which I was rooming and arrived at a tiny Indian eating place. It was so nondescript, it could not even be called a restaurant. Mostly incongruous because it was nestled in a skyscraper, it fit right in with the other eateries and little guest houses crammed into the many floors of the building. Throughout this Kowloon landmark, backpackers, entrepreneurs, and clients from across the globe made up its hustle and bustle. Infamously captured in a Wong Kar Wai film, the ground floor shopping area had been reduced to nothing more than a seedy underworld. There was much comfort to be had in this world within, ensconced as I was among these fellow migrants of similar hue. It was the best Indian meal I have ever eaten. True, I do not even recall, now, what the dish was. All that mattered was that it was eye-wateringly pungent and that the South Indian waiter, who nodded a welcome, had filled my plate with more food than that of any of the other patrons there. 

Nearly twenty years on, at a dessert cafe in a back alley that can only be described as a hipster paradise because we are seated by the side of trashcans and the weekend crowd we are engulfed in would not have frequented this neighbourhood in times past, I tell the people I am with that I had been to the now-Chinese territory before. They are a group of expatriate architects that I meet because of the conference I am attending in Hong Kong. “I’m sorry,” one of them scoffs when I say the name of the place where I had resided. He recapitulates quickly upon not receiving the reaction he had expected. “They’ve cleaned it up lots, I believe,” he equivocates. 

Certainly, when I stopped by the building a few hours prior, I had noticed the changes. An anthropologist colleague had accompanied me to the iconic building which she had read about in Gordon Mathews’ book, Ghetto at the Center of the World. There, we found what we had scoured the entire city for – a pair of dolls from the Disney movie Frozen. The popularity of the film had caused the toys to fly off shelves and appear on eBay at several times their original value. “My daughter will be so thrilled,” the anthropologist said as she studied the knock-offs. “And when she’s old enough, there’ll be even more of the story to tell her because I got them here,” she mused, as we walked around the warren of shops. The place had not changed to the point of being unrecognizable. Somehow, in this ultramodern city, it had managed to retain its unsanitised history – a hive of multiculturality, at once retrograde and the very definition of globalised modernity. 

Just before leaving for Hong Kong on that maiden voyage two decades prior, a European student who was on holiday in Goa gave me some advice on traveling to the then colony. “Whatever you do,” she warned, “do not stay at the Chunking Mansion.” I remember staring up at the sign outside the building after I had gotten a room there, and I had thought to myself how amusingly inappropriate the name was.

An online version of this piece as it appears in print can be seen here.