romancing a lost world
by Douglas Messerli
Wong Kar-wai (screenplay and
director) 2046 / 2004
Fortunately, some critics such as Manohla Dargis, Daniel Eagan, and J.
Hoberman were more alert to Wong’s somewhat visually prolix interweaving of
desire and love, and recognized the film’s significance.
Wong, through his character Chow, is a man in love with love and all the
pain and suffering that romantic love entails. If this movie’s rendition of
Chow’s character seems to present him often as an unfeeling ladies’ man instead
of the unsure and overly careful spouse of In
the Mood for Love, underneath he is very much the same man, losing his
heart again and again while trying to protect himself from what he, often
mistakenly, perceives as betrayals.
Part of the problem of Chow’s life is that, in his world nearly everyone
he meets has been subject to betrayal, and, as such, have difficulty in
emotionally responding to the other; clearly these characters are sensual
beings, quite ready to open themselves up to sexual intercourse; but when it
comes to deeper emotional communication they, much like the androids Chow
creates in his science-fiction work, are slow to respond, acting often after
the fact. We see this most clearly in his neighbor’s Wang Jing-wen’s inability
to answer her Japanese boyfriend’s questions about whether she truly loves him
or not. We and Chow both realize that, despite her father’s refusal to approve
their relationship, that Wang is desperately in love with the character played
by Takuya Kimura (and who later plays Tak to her android character in Chow’s
fiction), but like Su Li-zhen, she acts too late to communicate that love; Wang
must first undergo a mental breakdown and years of suffering before,
fortunately, Chow forces her to call her Japanese lover who finally convinces
her to join him in Japan.
Every passenger
who goes to 2046 has the same intention. They want to recapture lost memories
because nothing ever changes in 2046. Nobody knows if that’s true because
nobody’s ever come back.
The narrator of the futurist fiction 2046
is the only one, apparently, able to escape the drug of lost memories, but in
order to do that he must give up love in its entirety, which is something we
also see Chow do, to his detriment, again and again. Indeed, the heart of
Wong’s film is his abilities to trap the viewer in that same reverie. Through
the startlingly beautiful images of Hong Kong in the 1960s, his attention to
every sensual detail, his ravishingly gorgeous songs and dances of musical
history, and in repeated reveries of long and lonely Christmases, Wong
encompasses the sensitive viewer in the same way that Chow is trapped in his
loving melancholia. In some ways, we don’t want Wong’s two-hour film to end,
especially since we know that the only way he can truly end, is by spilling
these secret sorrows into the ear of nature, in short, losing them into the
natural world such as one does in death.
The many women of Wong’s films might
also be seen, in their exquisite qipao dresses, as the city itself, a world
that, like Chow’s love, has been inexplicably lost. It is interesting that 2046
is also date of the end of Hong Kong’s self-regulatory promise by the Chinese
government when the British handed over the former colony in 1997. Wong seems
to be suggesting that the city itself has been betrayed, a love lost in time by
its own citizens.
No matter how we read Wong’s film, however, it remains a kind of
Proustian testament to a world at the opposite end of a century that Swann
inhabited.
Los Angeles, January 6, 2016
Reprinted from World Cinema Review (January 2016).
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