Whether you are in a relationship or not, Valentine’s Day is a notable day in everyone’s calendar and with that, romance tends to dominate film watching choices around this time. After a candlelit dinner, folks can lose themselves in a love-filled film and it is understandable – romance films have a simple recipe that is easy to follow. Two people awkwardly find themselves drawn to each other and despite misunderstandings and obstacles such as a jealous ex or confused feelings, love always prevails with a deep kiss in a picturesque setting or, in some cases, caught without an umbrella during a massive rainfall. But while some tend to lean towards weepies or rom-coms such as The Notebook or When Harry Met Sally, a personal favourite is Wong Kar Wai’s In the Mood for Love starring Maggie Cheung and Tony Leung. On the contrary to modern romance films, this film achieves a depth of emotional connection without falling into cliches and intense physical contact. Instead, it sets itself as a modern cinematic heartbreaker.
Set in the 1960s, In the Mood for Love sets itself up as a domesticated Hong Kong drama between two working couples, the Chans and the Chows. Within it, Wong Kar-Wai beautifully shapes the love story that brews in a bubble between Cheung’s Su Li-zhen (or Mrs Chan), a receptionist and Leung’s Chow Mo-Wan, a journalist.
The audience sees their respective spouses, Mr Chan and Mrs Chow, go on regular work trips, often leaving Su and Chow alone. Wong plays on the notion of loneliness by isolating the characters as they go on day by day. They avoid their landladies’ lively games of mahjong and focus on work to pass the time. Chow spends his time in the office after hours, with the smoke of his cigarettes prolonging the silence around him. Su – on the other hand – doesn’t like cooking for herself, frequently venturing to the local noodle stand for dinner – a place also visited by Chow. Their spouses’ faces remain hidden throughout the film with only one-sided conversations over the phone or off-screen to even indicate their presence. Nonetheless, their lack of visibility plays on the illusion of them never even existing in the first place. With the figurative obstacle out of the way (namely, their spouses), the stage is set for Wong to craft the central romance between Su and Chow.
Their interactions start off as fleeting glimpses past their homes or the noodle street vendor. But due to their partners’ continuous work trips, these frequent yet brief moments slowly extend to an admiring look behind the shoulder or a slight lean as they pass each other – with Shigeru Umebayashi’s haunting Yumeji’s Theme setting the mood. These small touches, combined with the repeated shots of streets and settings such as narrow stairwells or the hallways of their respective apartments, develop a physical tension that hints at mutual attraction and familiarity amid a sense of foreshadowing (a hotel providing a reference to 2004 sequel 2046). Nonetheless, neither of them extend past being casual acquaintances – until they realise their common dilemma.
“You notice things if you pay attention”
In what would be their Su and Chow’s first proper conversation, Wong Kar-Wai sets this pivotal scene in a closed restaurant booth so that their conversation – and private business – remains private. The acquaintances sit opposite each other, unsure of what to say – choosing to complement each other’s personal items such as Chow’s tie and Su’s handbag to make polite conversation. The elephant in the room – the affair between Mrs Chow and Mr Chan – slowly unfolds as they try to explain their spouses’ frequent absences while the camera swiftly switches between Su and Chow to capture their reaction. The alternating camerawork lays the groundwork for an emotional outburst, only for each character to express indifference. Without resorting to tears or raised voices, their mutual melancholia feels like an understated yet mature understanding that any retaliation would make them no better than their partners. Ironically, the affair would light the fire to their heartbreaking romance.
While they are not overly expressive when it comes to the affair, the relationship between Su and Chow sees them act out confrontations as a way to vent their anger. As their relationship blossoms, they imagine how the affair occurred through intimate conversations over casual dinners – far from the intimate settings normally associated with a budding romance. While having dinner in their hotel room – away from their landladies’ prying eyes – Chow pretends to be Mr Chan to allow Su to see if she can confront him about the affair. However, she is unable to convey her emotions, stumbling with the pain of being lied to. Her approach differs to Chow, who seemingly sinks into denial and focuses on being a confidant for Su. Their reluctance and lack of courage in confronting them highlights their discomfort with honesty – a sentiment that later traverses to their own relationship. Su is willing to help Chow branch out into martial arts serials while he encourages her to be emotionally strong through their imagined confrontations. In essence, both characters found themselves with a support buddy that enables them to be honest with each other – ironic, considering they are bonded through an act of deceit.
However, this honesty comes at a cost. The characters acknowledge that their connection cannot develop into anything further as surrendering into their feelings would make them no better than their spouses. In addition, it would not rectify the shared pain of being cheated on. As a result, the harsh reality of a broken heart and the fantasy of a secret lover cause their deflected emotions to build up towards each other.
But Chow and Su’s moral compasses are tested just the same. Their increased time together attracts the attention of their neighbouring landladies, as they socially play mahjong into the early hours of the morning (on a personal note, I know games that run for ages due to the rotation of the mahjong board). But Su and Chow are unfairly judged for being friends while their cheating spouses are seen as hard-working professionals who seemingly have no remorse for their infidelity, making the protagonists even more endearing.
By this time, the protagonists’ noticeable connection is verging towards the film’s big romantic moment and, in the eyes of the audience, it could not be more perfect. Nat King Cole crooning his sultry vocals. Chow and Su are in a dimly lit street – him, looking sharp and timeless in a pristine suit and a cigarette in his hand. Her, looking elegant in one of her beautiful cheongsams (Cantonese for ‘long clothing’). As they stand shyly on the street, the time comes for the couple confesss their love for each other. But instead, Wong Kar-Wai derails the romance by separating them before they get together. The interaction starts friendly enough, with him asking her to organise a boat ticket to Singapore. After stating it is for work (and to help his friend Ping), he confesses that he is sick of the gossip – and that he has developed feelings for her. She quietly says “I didn’t think you would fall in love with me” to which he replies: “I thought I was in control. But I hate to think of your husband coming home.” This fraught interaction in the quiet Hong Kong street is the closest thing to the film’s romantic climax but rather than the soaring score and a moment of passion, Su ends up breaking down in tears with her head resting on his shoulder, despite him calling the conversation a “rehearsal” to prepare her for his departure.There are no kisses, quiet admissions of love, nor reassurances that they would eventually be together – instead, the film just ends with them separated and with a couple of time jumps chronicling missed opportunities to reunite, their relationship ends up feeling like a somewhat fantasy. As the film ends with Chow whispering a secret into a tree hollow and covering it with mud as per a a Chinese folktale, “The Emperor Has Donkey Ears”, it is a metaphor for his feelings for Su – he is burying them away, like their relationship never happened.
In the Mood for Love proves that romance isn’t all hearts and roses – sometimes, it can lead to heartbreak – an emotion that the director isn’t afraid to put into celluloid. There aren’t many directors who can do this as beautifully and eloquently as Wong Kar-Wai, which is why In the Mood for Love strikes in the hearts of audiences.
In the Mood for Love by Wong Kar Wai was screened at the 3rd Mint Chinese Film Festival in Keswick, UK in February 2025. The film was shown as part of a 25th-anniversary retrospective.
