Chungking Wild

I have been watching only Wong Kar-Wai films for the past days and weeks. It’s fun just wallowing in the over-saturated expressionist colours and loveless love stories of policemen and playboys. I’ve become infatuated with the charm of Maggie Chueng, Tony Leung and Takeshi Kaneshiro (recurring actors and actresses that WKW simply loves to work with). I’ve pretty much just fallen in love with retro Hong Kong fashion particularly chiongsams and all I listen to all day is Nat King Cole and Canto-pop.

I’m perhaps ready to admit that WKW could be one of my favourite directors along side the venerated Akira Kurosawa and Stanley Kubrick. The Hong Kong new wave cinema is exhilarating in its own right. The exoticism is intensely arousing.

WKW films are like Godard films. They’re foreign, they’re sexy, they’re romantic and inconclusive, they have loads of cigarette smoke and heavy liquor. Hong Kong, through the lenses of WKW exudes the same cultural-cool as Paris in all its eclecticism and foreign bohemianism. And Cantonese, like French, has become both an intensely sexy and beautiful language.

I am hysterically impulsed to pick up chain-smoking, heavy drinking and Cantonese (I mean I’m technically a Cantonese myself but I speak unintelligible Cantonese. Death to Singapore’s anti-dialect policies.)

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