Almen Wong in Her Name Is Cat

The images in “Her Name Is Cat” that are appropriated/plagiarized/borrowed by Clarence Ford from other directors simply overpower the by-the-numbers narrative that he puts on the screen. Which isn’t a bad thing in itself—film is a visual medium so one character impaled by a cross or another character moving through the air in slow motion while firing a pistol in each hand, unless anchored to this particular story or definitely part of this particular director’s bag of tricks, will be more memorable than almost anything else that happens.

Clarence Ford has a few striking images of his own, most notably the insane workout routine of Cat. In order to make things as difficult as possible for herself she uses surgical tubing as a resistance device, although not only for stretching against its pull. Cat does a full set of very difficult exercises while eight lengths of rubber, anchored to a wall and to her, are stretched to their (or her) breaking point. This may be the most insanely demanding individual drill ever put on film—it certainly is the toughest I can recall. It must be done unassisted since she hunts alone and must maintain her strength and fitness without help. She isn’t isolated though. Cat does some of her workout on the roof of her building the right time for tough but sensitive cop John Cannon (Michael Wong) to see her during his commute from work.

For tilted film plane fans:

The plot is simplistic—cop and assassin are first intrigued then obsessed with each other and are drawn ever closer by the force of circumstances. John Cannon and his daughter happen to walk in front of a democratic councilor during an attempt on his life by Cat. It was to be Cat’s last hit even though everyone but her knows that highly paid and well trained killers don’t get to retire. She wants a normal life, a life free to watch the cartoons on television and stuff herself with instant noodles. She also finds that she likes sex with John the cop, particularly when he is handcuffed to the headboard of her bed. Her life to that point had been very grim. Her grandmother and sister died of starvation on the Mainland while she tried to find food for them and she was recruited as a killer by a very shadowy organization in the PRC who has her killing off triad leaders in Hong Kong.

Almen Wong is just about perfect in this role. She rules the screen, is credible as the toughest mercenary that money can buy and is gloriously sexy in every outfit the costume designers sewed her into. Cat’s stoic placidity while being pawed by Sister Shin, her agent, works as a character trait—she keeps her emotions tightly controlled no matter what is happening—and also as a way to let Almen Wong act without really acting. Ford uses Wong’s physicality with close-ups of sweat dripping from her face during her workouts, lingering shots of her astounding cleavage in a low cut evening gown, shots of her in a bikini from below. He obviously is much more interested in Cat than in John Cannon.

John Cannon is a mess. His former wife is marrying again and moving to the UK with their daughter. His superiors don’t trust him and cops working for him are simply waiting for him to fail so they can move up. In addition to his marital and career difficulties there are people trying to kill him and he can’t even get any of his buddies to go out for a drink. He deals with all of this by borrowing a yacht from a friend and sailing away with his new lover, Cat. Bad move by everyone.

The entire tone of the movie shifts here with an almost audible “clunk” as it goes from an action melodrama with some well done fights and gun battles to an idyllic although doomed (again clear to everyone but Cat) romance. This goes on for far too long and is destroys the already tottering structure of “Her Name is Cat”. It does provide for plenty of shots of Almen Wong in a black bikini and a white wedding dress which soon becomes white lingerie and a long veil but no matter how much the audience appreciates those shots we know that this is just a prelude to more betrayal and mayhem, particularly since when they decided to take a break both of them were being hunted by Hong Kong police and Mainland assassins.

Still tilted but with different diagonal:

There are several cross dressing scenes. Sister Shin (Chong Wing) dresses in a man’s suit complete with collared shirt and tie with her short hair slicked back while briefing Cat on her next mission. Cat breaks into John’s apartment and rolls around on his bed wearing one of his suits. These scenes add a bit to the titillation factor, especially since Sister Shin fondles Cat while telling her who to kill and are also clear references to “Chungking Express” and “Fallen Angels”. Several well shot and choreographed fight scenes are highlights especially one in which Cat is attacked in her home/office/gym/lair. She escapes by catapulting herself through a wall using the workout surgical tubing as a slingshot—quite a move. The big gunfight at the end includes a face off at close range of Cat and an assassin pointing guns at each other, a slow motion scene of a gunman leaping into the air while firing a pistol in each hand and is preceded by Christian prayers in a candlelit church. Everything but the doves.

Ching Siu Lung is properly repellant as the big boss who prays that all his enemies will be killed. Kenix Kwok Hoh-Ying as the about to be former Mrs. John Cannon is able to look very pretty while portraying vindictiveness and hysteria. Ben Lam Kwok-Bun and Chik King-Man are tough and energetic as the Mainlanders sent to finish off Cat and John.

Isabella Leung and Rainie Yang in Spider Lilies

“Spider Lilies” is a melodrama full of death, loneliness, alienation and fear that somehow manages an almost convincing life affirming ending. Both Jade and Takeko are haunted by a past filled with abandonment and sudden, chaotic change. Takeko (Isabelle Leung) has found a measure of peace in her work as a tattoo artist while Jade, (Ranie Yang) about ten years younger, passes her time and makes her living as a not particularly effective webcam girl, one who gets offended when the questions from her customers get too personal. A theme which runs through “Spider Lilies” is the difficulty of human communication, ironically made even worse by burgeoning digital devices to facilitate such contact. What it is not is a highly charged erotic tale in which two attractive young women writhe in bed—even though they find solace in each others arms their couplings are chaste, almost wholesome.

Isabella Leung Lok Sze

Rainie Yang Cheng-Lin

The lives of Jade and Takeko intersect three times. The first is when Jade is nine years old. She waits for Takeko to ride past on her bicycle and stops her one day. Jade is obviously a terribly lonely girl—she has been abandoned by her mother and brother and left in the care of her grandmother. The story is that her mother and brother were killed in an earthquake but the reality is that mom left for Taipei with her sibling after the quake, unable to deal with the new reality of her life in the countryside. Jade is all artifice, something we see from the beginning, since she dons an outrageous by not unbecoming green wig when se stops Takeko. Takeko has her own family issues, also caused by the implacable forces of nature. Her family was also shattered by an earthquake—this one in Japan where they lived at the time. Her father was killed and her younger brother was so shocked by the event that he was stunted mentally and emotionally. He is cared for by his sister, spending his days in some type of group setting and nights with Takeko.

During younger and possibly less complicated days

The second time is some years later—Jade seems to have aged about 5 years, Takeko not at all—where we see them in bed for the first time. This is more a schoolgirl sleep-over than anything else although there are hints of a mutual seduction when Takeko realizes that she hasn’t picked up her brother at his care center and bolts.

Those two are told in competently done flashbacks. Currently Takeko has established herself as a tattoo artist of some renown, booking all the business she can handle, taking care of her brother and not doing much else. One of her customers, a young man with a lot of intricate tattoos, is in love with her although it turns out he is in love with any female he encounters. He uses the fearsome tattoos that cover his body and forearms—plus, more importantly, the sense of virility and toughness they give him—to bully schoolboys and shake them down for money. Toward the end of the movie, armed with a new set of inked images, he goes after the wrong guy with gruesome but not surprising consequences.

Jade is in the very competitive and ultra-tawdry webcam sex business, trying to entice men who log on to her site to buy a private session with her. Since she doesn’t like rough talk, doesn’t want to strip and lets her potential customers know she despises them she is always on the edge of being fired by the virtual mamma-san. Jade rediscovers Takeko and anonymously books an appointment for a tattoo. Takeko is so surprised when Jade shows up early that she stops working on her current customer, a tough looking Triad type, and sends him away with an abrupt “I am finished for today”.

There is a side story that does nothing but pad the running time. Jade is being investigated by the police, an organization with the initials CIB. We are asked to believe that a squad of four with a commander, two senior investigators and a rookie cop has been deployed against Jade’s tiny operation—at least we never see them focusing anywhere but on her. The rookie has the task of convincing her to lure him into a private room and strip—since she is the only one of the girls who is a failure at this it makes no sense they would concentrate on her. And since the police scenes add nothing to our understanding of the characters, do not advance the action at all and are only tangentially related to anything in the movie, these scenes (there are quite a few of them) quickly move from boring to annoying.

The spider lilies of the title are a tattoo that hangs on the wall of Takeko’s shop. Unlike the rest of her samples this is not a sketch but ink on skin. When her father died in the earthquake she begged his teacher to take her on as a pupil since it was the only way she could support herself and her brother. He was dubious, thinking that a woman would not be able to deal with the blood and pain involved in this art, and told her he would teach her only if she removed a tattoo from the forearm of her father’s corpse. It was an image of a spider lily intertwining around grinning skulls and it is that piece of skin and ink that hangs framed on the wall.

The Spider Lily tattoo on Takeko

The ending is upbeat but somber, with more death and abandonment packed into the last few minutes counterbalanced by love and recovery.

Rainie Yan doesn't come across well as a teenaged heartbreaker or as a Sapphic femme fatale—much too innocent and girlish acting while Isabella Leung is almost perfect as the less flamboyant but far more affecting side of the pairing.

Zhang Ziyi and Zhou Xun in The Banquet

There are a lot of estimable works that use some of the images, plots devices, language and even characters from “Hamlet”. “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead” by Tom Stoppard, the opera “Hamlet” by Ambrose Thomas, a work whose beauty I have yet to grasp but which retains a tenuous hold in the standard repertory in Europe, the Kurosawa masterpiece “The Dead Sleep Well” are among them. “The Banquet” is now part of this list. The parallels to Shakespeare’s masterpiece are obvious: Crown Prince Wu Luan is Hamlet, Qing could be Ophelia, Empress Wan has some but not many of the characteristics of Gertrude, the Emperor is Claudius (probably the closest of the characters), General Yin closely resembles Laertes and while Minister Yin is structurally the same as Polonius, his character has much more nobility of spirit than Shakespeare’s old windbag.

Zhang Ziyi as Empress Wan--a woman who knows what she wants and how to get it.

Some of the action and tropes—the play within the play, the attempted banishment and assassination of the Crown Prince, the use of poison—in “The Banquet” are also present in “Hamlet”. But this movie, like all of the works mentioned above, has to rise and fall on its own merits. Whether it is based on, influenced by or refers to either one of the cornerstones of drama is immaterial—what the writers, director, actors and others put on the screen is what counts.

“The Banquet” consists of a number of dishes which don’t really make a meal—in this case revenge is meal that is served piping hot but with very little reflection on the enormity crimes committed by the usurping Emperor. This is a real problem because it deflects our interest from the Crown Prince who should be the center of attention even when off screen. The Emperor is written and played as evil incarnate is the most energetic character while Qing and her father are the most sympathetic. The Empress comes across as confused and ambiguous, an effect for which the director Fang Xiaogang was most likely striving. She is fanatically devoted to Emperor Li because of his skill in love making but hates him as the murderer of her husband and illegal claimant to the throne. Both Qing and General Yin are too good to be true, which is not a drawback in a drama in which everyone is plotting against everyone else. The Pharmacist was a brilliant creation, a deadly tool who could be used by whomever had the power or could pay his price. The last scene between him and the Empress was a subtle misdirection that only became clear at the very end of the movie.

Zhou Xun as Qing tries to get some sleep using a block of wood for a pillow.

The Empress has other ideas.

That there was real suspense at the climax of the film shows the skill and creativity of the filmmakers. The schemes became clear to the audience just a beat before they did to the plotters, including the red herrings that were supposed to distract the real targets from danger—and there were several targets since there were several plots, some of which became apparent only as they unfolded. This was at least partially offset by the clumsiness in depicting the sexual chemistry between the Emperor and his new consort. The extended intimate scenes between them may have been to set up how much Empress Wan hated her brother-in-law and how she was able to fool him but even if so they were dull and took up too much screen time.

Qing looking calm and composed...

and enigmatic...

The cinematography, costume design and set design were all lush, beautiful to see and just about perfectly executed. There were a lot of extremely long robes that seem appropriate, especially when shot from above and the use of deep red and pure white was telling. The awful power wielded by the Emperor, who could sentence someone to be publicly beaten to death, was well illustrated by bowing and scraping of everyone in his presence, including victorious generals and long serving members of the nobility. The use of masks was especially well done, both as symbols of deceit and artifice and also as masks themselves, hiding the identity of the person lurking behind.

The score by Tan Dun was terrific—he writes to film as well as anyone currently working. It was always appropriate to what was happening onscreen but didn’t call attention to itself. The music itself is worth the price of the DVD.

Zhou Xun wears glasses: a brief retrospective

Trawled ifeng.com for more shots of the big hit of the HKFA, Zhou Xun in her possibly new glasses:

It may have been the heavy black frames that caught the attention of the photographers and photo editors since there have been images of Zhou Xun wearing glasses in the past.

In 2008 at the Chinese premieres of All About Women she sported lighter and more colorful eyewear.

From the Beijing premiere:

From the Shanghai premiere the next day.

2008 pictures from this site

30th Hong Kong Film Awards

It rained on the 2011 Hong Kong Film Awards which didn't seem to bother Carina Lau in the least. She was one of the few bright spots in an evening full of dull outfits on beautiful actresses.

Tang Wei in the reddest red looked like she was having a great time.

Ella Koon in an shapeless orange dress that didn't look any worse having had its hem dragged through a few puddles.

Josie Ho in a dress that was typical of the evening: a poorly cut and draped pleat-fest that didn't hang right. She always looks like a billion (or so) dollars though.

Both "Dynasty" and "The Jetsons" would like their shoulder pads returned.

Kara Hui's dress is way beyond my ability to characterize but she could wear a burlap bag and look perfect as soon as she flicks on that smile.

Zhou Xun has had one hundred ways to look devastating. Now it is one hundred and one--big glasses as an accessory.

Chrissie Chau was there. This is what she looked like:

All images from ifeng.com

Beyond Hypothermia with Wu Chien-Lin

The gorgeous Wu Chien-Lin plays Cheng a skilled and highly paid killer. Patrick Leung’s camera loves her; she is strikingly framed and often bathed in a blue or green light that makes her even more ethereally compelling. In addition to her looks Cheng has virtues that are important for success in a number of fields. She is patient, resourceful, ruthless and single-minded when carrying out a mission. She ignores physical discomfort, changes tactics when necessary, doesn’t get distracted from accomplishing her objective when circumstances change and deals with obstacles as they occur. She is deadly with a number of firearms, equally effective at ranges from 500 meters to point blank and has no compunction against killing witnesses. As a killer she as good as can be but as a heroine of a melodrama Cheng is a cipher, which is the main problem with “Beyond Hypothermia”, there is no moral center, no person essential to the action of the film with whom the audience can empathize. Cheng doesn’t know her own history, only that she was born in Cambodia and somehow escaped that blood soaked land for Hong Kong. The audience doesn’t know her history either but from the moment that she very calmly executes the young daughter of a target we think there is nothing in her background, however horrible, that could justify such complete depravity.

There is the slightest bit of ambiguity in that scene. We see Cheng from the point of view of the toddler, pointing her pistol directly at the camera, holding for a moment, and then pulling the trigger. In each of her other hits we see the bullet hitting home—this is the first and possibly only time where impact of the bullet occurs off screen. For example immediately before this sequence with the child Cheng killed the kid’s gang boss father, shooting him with the barrel of the pistol against the back of his head. It is possible to imagine that Cheng decided not to kill the little girl but there isn’t much evidence for it.

Her opponent is Chui, the chief bodyguard and enforcer for Korean gangster Mr. Pak. While he is clearly not as good at his job as Cheng is at hers—she kills Mr. Pak and then escapes in a very well done chase on foot through the streets and stores of Seoul—Chui is also very deadly. He kills an extraordinarily large number of people as he comes closer and closer to Cheng, first learning the name of the Hong Kong triad that sponsored the assassination, and then further discovering Sister Mei, Cheng’s agent,. His method is simple and direct. He wields two pistols and never misses with either hand. While Cheng’s kills are precise and well planned, his are chaotic and dependent on the bad judgment or poor shooting of his targets.

While there are some formal parallels with movies of John Woo—“A Better Tomorrow” and its sequel come to mind readily—neither Cheng nor Chui have the righteous authority and moral weight of Mark Gor or Tequila Yeun. There is no heroism in the bloodshed of “Beyond Hypothermia”.

There is, however, a lot of stylized good looking filmmaking. While Cheng often moves in a universe of washed out blue or green, Long, her unlikely and tenuous connection to the world beyond killing, is just as often lit and shot with natural looking light. He runs a down-market noodle stand where she goes to take part in the simple rituals and routines of everyday life compared with the otherworldly intensity of murder for hire. After each killing Cheng stops at Long's food stand for burning hot plain noodles. She is always dressed fashionably; he dresses like a harried cook/waiter trying to serve enough lunches to stay in business for another month. She doesn’t talk with anyone; he is a favorite with the all the locals, especially the kids. Long is Lau Ching-Wan in all his rumpled, earthy glory, a former triad who decided to go straight, a nice guy always ready with a free meal for a hungry beggar but tough enough to be the only business in the area who isn’t paying protection.

He is in love and has been from the first time he saw Cheng—his “Pretty Ghost”. As the maniacal Chiu gets closer to Cheng, Long doesn’t flinch even when the bullets begin to fly in earnest. One hesitates to say that this is a perfect role for Lau Ching-Wan since this incredibly gifted actor seems able to make any role his own, but he is just about perfect here.

Shirley Wong Qui-Lee as Sister Mei is simply evil personified. She is as bad as Bill Sykes or Iago but without the animal vitality or nobility of those literary creations. She controls Cheng, acting as her booker and cut-out, insuring that the fees are paid and the logistics are sound. Most importantly she keeps Cheng wandering in an existential wilderness without an identity, a history or even a memory of her childhood. Her control of Cheng is slipping a bit, although she doesn’t know that it is because of Cheng’s newly found interest in Long. Cheng tells her that she would like to be with a man, not only as a lover but as a friend and companion—although she qualifies her desire and underlines once again just how amoral she is by saying that as soon as he started to suspect she was an assassin she would kill him.

The homoerotic byplay between Sister Mei and Cheng isn't really expected so both Cheng and the audience are shocked when Sister Mei slips her hand under Cheng's blouse while telling her that a relationship simply can’t happen. We aren't sure if there is a Sapphic aspect to the relationship or if Sister Mei is trying to strengthen her hold on Cheng by claiming her body.

One brief scene is almost heartbreaking in its poignancy. For the first time Cheng relaxes and really opens up while taking Polaroids of herself. She poses, smiles, looks over a shoulder at the camera, basically acting like a young woman pleased with the way she looks (and feels) and happy to have a record of it. She then selects on picture, dates it and hides it behind a picture of a Buddha statue on her desk and burns the rest of the photos.

One of the tools of her trade--a false passport.