Watch "Kowloon Walled City" on the weekend, a long-awaited Hong Kong-style comic martial arts film. Director Cheng Baorui's aesthetics continue the style of the previous two films, "Wisdom Tooth" and "Murder Case," with post-apocalyptic scenes that hit you straight in the head.
Galaxy Pictures never disappoints, they are just silent, not sunk.
Various scenes filled with trash cans, plastic bags, dirty and dark, characters struggling and shuttling through various iron fences, good and evil walking outside of order, human nature darkly exposed.
In this dark and twisted environment, hidden beneath the cruel and murderous shell, is a group of men's unwillingness and hot blood.
I have always worried about Raymond Lam's role. If I imagine Ruǎn Jīngtiān playing the fugitive, and when it comes to fighting, perhaps Péng Yúyàn could work, and when the characters clash, I think of Xiè Tīngfēng's arrogance. But in the end, I think Raymond Lam's portrayal of this character is not outstanding, but there is nothing bad about it either.
"Kowloon Walled City" has a simple plot that doesn't require much brainpower. The film focuses on action scenes, with Gu Yuzhong from the Zhen family serving as the action director, presenting fierce and decisive fighting scenes, powerful blows, and the pain of blades piercing through bodies.
I took a can of beer from the fridge, undisturbed, fully immersed, completely relaxed in the blood-pumping movie.
I think it was wise not to have Donnie Yen among the big shots, otherwise it would have become another "SPL: Kill Zone" with him and Sammo Hung. The fight scenes are evenly distributed among each character, the action scenes progress layer by layer, chaos contains order, and violence reveals elegance.
The big shots gradually fade out of the old rivers and lakes, and the young people carve out a new world with their own fists.
I always thought that Hong Kong films were declining, with familiar faces on the big screen and subject matter caught in a dilemma of advance and retreat. Hong Kong films seemed to have their wings broken and could no longer fly.
But "Kowloon Walled City" reignited my passion and expectations for Hong Kong films. In the final scene of the film, Chen Luojun finds his brothers and they play mahjong. I know very well that revenge is about to come without a word.
When the three of them appeared, I couldn't help but feel a sour nose and red eyes. The long-lost emotions, like the heroic spirit of "A Better Tomorrow" fighting side by side for justice, willing to sacrifice everything, once again surged in my blood.
The passion has never cooled, and Hong Kong films will never die.
"Kowloon Walled City" proves that Hong Kong films still have strong vitality. In the transition between the old and the new, the curly-haired young man wielding butterfly knives and riding motorcycles is stunning.
Every Hong Kong person is an island. Lost in the busy city, but unable to sever the connection between people. Behind the indifferent faces, everyone has their own stories, warm hearts even if no one listens.
Just like a line in "Joy of Life 2": "Originally, light can be inherited."
Hong Kong people make Hong Kong films, Hong Kong people act in Hong Kong films, and Hong Kong stories are best told by Hong Kong people.
In the midst of brutal and violent scenes, a bowl of barbecue pork rice appears, implying people's simplest desire, to have a full meal.
If we can have a good meal while being full, that would be even better.
Hong Kong films never lack soup, it represents family affairs; Hong Kong films never lack dai pai dong, it represents human warmth and liveliness.
Wuxia films in China have declined, while xianxia films dominate. Watching idols with beautiful makeup, their eyes turning blue, either endlessly chattering or overly affectionate, can be aesthetically exhausting.
I need a type of film that doesn't require much thinking, just expressing one's feelings openly. I don't want to think, just talk about loyalty without questioning good and evil, enjoy revenge without considering the cost, fight from beginning to end, don't give bad people any reason to be forgiven, and don't let good people sacrifice for no reason. Heroes are invincible, villains are not worth pitying.
Reality is crueler than movies, and we long for something better. It is these movies that allow us to feel hope in a desperate world.
The ending song, "The Shape of the Wind" by Cén Nìng'ér, is a great choice.
What shape is the wind? I really want to know.