Review and Analysis of Ashes Of Time

Ashes Of Time was the second Wong Kar Wai movie I saw (after Chungking Express), and all I knew about the movie beforehand was that it was a period martial arts movie which somehow disappointed many martial arts fans.

I think I can see why.

Definitely a ‘Wong Kar Wai film’ in terms of style and theme, the way that martial arts is involved is oblique compared to the usual action movie. Apparently, the source material is from Jing Yong’s classic wu xia story, The Eagle Shooting Heroes. I don’t know the story, but I think I can guess that the adaptation is elliptical at the very least.

What I can say though, is that in the right mood, with the right level of receptiveness this film soars. Perhaps some perfect conjunction between viewer perception and auteur vision is the key here: I have no idea, but the result was that this film became an unforgettable experience. And yet, one gets a sense of how this film really is on the edge: between alienating through its grand, for want of another word, pretentiousness, but also possessing a rare, near pure emotive quality which surpasses understanding of artifices, tropes and techniques to connect at a profoundly human level with epiphany-like clarity. Watching for the first time, I felt that there were so many ways I could be turned off, be disappointed and not connect with this film: it teased with clues so slowly, I often felt it was failing to communicate with the viewer, new concepts appeared to be toyed with without any concrete results, new avenues of narrative and characterisation appearing and disappearing without apparent point. Most of this is quite typical of Wong Kar Wai, but I felt irked then. Yet I couldn’t disengage myself from the film. There is no single moment of epiphany or realisation that transforms all the confused ends into a coherent whole, but as the end felt closer it became clearer that I was being made to understand the film and feel it grow in greatness.

Having said all the above, the film actually doesn’t require effort to watch. For all its quirks and conceits and stylisms, by moments of sublime brilliance (particularly technically), the film reaches out and is absorbed. Well before I knew what was going on, the very first scene had me in awe: the thump of the soundtrack, a change in tempo, the credits giving way to the two main characters, the rolling sea, a flash of swords (and an exploding mountain), the two characters again... does it really need a meaning when it has such feeling?

At its base, the film has Leslie Cheung’s character going through the motions which help show us who he is - and perhaps why he is so. Through his various interactions we see his cold cynicism and lack of feeling, his mercenary morality and cool outlook. Slowly, as we tease out a present narrative for those who come across him, we get glimpses of a past narrative which may just help us understand him. The various time plays make matters exceedingly hard for first time viewers (who may not realise that Brigitte Lin’s tale happens before the start of the story), but what can be said is that his history (his relationship with Maggie Cheung) is so very simple when stated that it is laughable. Yet Wong Kar Wai manages to build up concept over concept eventually dragging us into the feelings of his characters in a way one would never have felt possible. The concepts then grow to have a life of their own, so that the movie, aside from being about characters and their feelings, becomes a grand meditation on various themes: loss, regret, memory and choice being some of the clearest.

Tony Leung Kar Fei forms the ‘Evil East’ of the Chinese title (against Leslie Cheung’s ‘Malicious West’), and his character seems to flow into the spaces of the narratives which Leslie encounters, bringing his own spin to the movie’s themes. We see how he is connected to the Blind Swordsman (Tony Leung Chiu-Wai) and his wife (Carina Lau), how he affects Brigitte Lin’s character. Eventually we even see him as part of the connection between Leslie Cheung and Maggie Cheung. His character professes that his tragedy is that he wishes to know how it feels to be loved, yet he only seems to hurt people. We see him as part of a love triangle (including the Blind Swordsman and his wife), perhaps bizarrely even part of a triangle of hurt and rejection involving both ‘halves’ of Brigitte Lin. Finally we see him profess his love for Maggie Cheung, but refrain from acting choosing instead to envy Leslie Cheung’s place in her heart and admire her without reciprocation. This reflects the reference to envy  at the start of the film - felt by both Leslie Cheung and Tony Leung Kar Fei, perhaps because of their own regret and loss. For Tony’s character, to forget is his solution. Perhaps more as a metaphorical statement of intent rather than actually being any magic potion, we see Tony with his amnesia wine (supposedly given by Maggie Cheung but associated, thematically throughout the film to Tony), which he consumes (professing to forget his past) whilst also proffering to others (to Tony Leung Chiu-Wai, signalling his wish for forgiveness after losing his friend).

In the end, we see that the attempts to forget can never be total. Leslie Cheung chooses to remember for all eternity (ironically, mirroring Takeshi Kaneshiro in Chungking Express), whereas Tony Leung Kar Fei says that he has forgotten much - except his attachment to peach blossoms (thematically connected to his ex-lovers), meaning he hasn’t forgotten at all. Instead, his facade of amnesia enables him to encounter Brigitte Lin, Tony Leung Chiu Wai and Carina Lau early on in the film, at a point when the audience know nothing, and they all react to him with the full weight of their histories whilst he appears, like the audience, to be a bemused stranger meeting them for the first time. It is only later that we learn that he really does remember, that he specifically sought reconciliation with the Blind Swordsman, and we glimpse him chasing after a fleeting Brigitte Lin who ‘touched him in his dreams’. The concept of the fleeting dream perfectly captures the world of missed chances, memories and regretful losses which is at the heart of Ashes Of Time.

It is in the second half of the film that Leslie Cheung’s character becomes more carefully shaded for the viewer, as we glimpse his past, his aspirations, motivations and changes. This doesn’t mean that the earlier parts of the film show a two dimensional character: far from it, the depiction of the present guise of ‘Malicious West’ forms a characterisation richer than most films can ever approach. His cynicism, aloofness and cool (given a brilliant multi-layered portrayal by Leslie Cheung) perfectly counterpoints the various characters who come across him with their own problems, drives, desires and memories. He supposedly helps people ‘solve their problems’ by hiring killers for them, in the process learning just why they are so hurt. We see him as a middle man between the problems of others, but hints arise as to his own pain, a pain so great that he can’t bear anyone else being happy. But as of yet we know only his projection in the present, his past and motivation being matters merely of speculation. Later on in the film, he comes across a young swordsman (Jacky Cheung) who seems so unlike him in terms of outlook and motivation. He tries to mould the swordsman into the formula which he has adopted by habit - ironically forcing him to wear shoes and selling him on the basis of his shoes rather than on his tremendous martial ability (in a scene where the subtitles completely misrepresent the dialogue) - and so the swordsman’s standout abilities are muted, taking second place to the image which Leslie Cheung chooses to project.

In the end, the swordsman rebels against Leslie Cheung’s cynical values, and decides to work by intuition towards the future instead of dwelling on the pains of the past. He rallies against convention and takes his wife adventuring with him - and so we learn of Leslie Cheung’s pain. We learn that he felt he had to leave Maggie Cheung, and we also feel his envy at the swordsman’s choice. Eventually we get the confused, scatty flashbacks of his past: his choice, regrets, late attempts to reconsider, a flurry of jump cuts reflecting the painfully torn memories, recalled in flashes of heightened emotion. In relation to this he, like so many other characters, is stuck in the present in a state of near paralysis, stuck in an existential dilemma, the events, emotions and choices of the past locking him in a routine without fulfilment. This emphasis on being locked in habit reflects Tony Leung Chiu-Wai in Chungking Express, and both leads in In The Mood For Love as well as Maggie Cheung in Days of Being Wild. In Ashes Of Time, finally it takes news of Maggie Cheung’s death to make Leslie Cheung realise that to forget her is impossible. She is in the past and irrecoverable: his memories of her (and their legacy via an offspring?) are all that remain. And so, not healed, restored or redeemed, nevertheless he breaks his routine (and burns down the inn) to move on.

Having said all the above, analysis is something which perhaps doesn’t represent Ashes Of Time too well. Admittedly, especially on first time viewing, much of the film can be impenetrable, frustrating those who seek linear plot development and narrative. Like many of Wong Kar Wai’s films, the communication to the audience, rather than being via traditional linear narrative, works on ‘nodes’ of understanding which we recognise either by their sensory texture (setting or sound for example), by physical presence (objects seen or felt) or by conceptual reference to abstract ideas or conceits. These spread within the film like a web, by which we get perhaps to feel the texture before understanding what (usually minimal) narrative there is. And these nodes become lodged in our mind, perhaps by aesthetic significance or because they actually do connect at an emotional level. This may sound strange when we may only be talking of a spinning bird cage, a particular shot of an oasis or talk of peach blossoms, but their significance is that we remember, and so we are at least in some way inside the story.

Because Ashes Of Time’s narrative is presented in such an elliptical way, the film invites the viewer to be in awe of the on-screen spectacle rather than to feel frustrated at being deprived of a traditional route of plot and character developments. And indeed, there is much in the aesthetic package which is sublime in itself. Chris Doyle’s cinematography is as rich and complex as Wong Kar Wai’s vision itself. We have tremendous vistas of desert - each setting somehow managing to appear unique and distinct. Shots of faces particularly show texture, grain and lighting being allied to create memorable scenes. Gentle pans and sweeps give a grand feel without being too ‘traditional’, and when the action kicks in the kinetic quality is richly emphasised, the trademark blurred stop-motion photography being used with controlled differences each time. The only complaint is that things are occasionally too grainy - but this stylism is forgivable. The film’s play with time even seeps into small shots, with mixed order jump cuts and time lapse photography to dazzle. William Chang’s production design is suitably gorgeous, albeit cleverly minimised so as to create a textural backdrop which won’t overshadow the characters. This helps distract from the usual question of historical setting, which is thereby completely irrelevant. Special mention too should go to the soundtrack, by Frankie Chan and Roel A Garcia, which manages to be moving, grand and yet fitting. Working from a Morricone-esque theme, the variations encompass Chinese instruments, synths and even electric guitars to create a texture which ranges from classical romantic and Spanish guitar to Indian eclectic and isolated moody rock synth.

As was previously stated, there is a connection to martial arts too. The action scenes disappointed some, as the trademark blurred stop-motion photography and energised camera movements made Sammo Hung’s action choreography hard to divine. Most martial arts fans preferred their action in long shot with minimal cutting, but Wong Kar Wai was hardly going to oblige. Having said this, the action is highly impressive, the stylized quality pushing each moment to the maximum. Sammo Hung’s fights have an honest desperation about them in this film, which actually helps us see another side to the characters. The action is best described as more Kurosawa than kung fu, the best scene being a prolonged sensory feast when Tony Leung Chiu-Wai, knowing of his failing eyesight, faces hordes of enemies. Part of the strength of the scene is that it connects well with questions of his character’s motivation and desires, his determination and desperation.

On the other hand, not everything works perfectly in this film. There aren’t any real faults, but those who aren’t immediately enamoured by its grand design will tend to notice areas which may occasionally lose the feel of the film’s otherwise uniform excellence. On further viewing, such non-sequiturs become less noticeable, or even part of the film’s own peculiar charm, but initially they may appear embarrassing or even cliched. An example is Brigitte Lin’s overall performance, which though good appears a little overacted at first (and the Cantonese dubbing seems sloppy, which doesn’t help) compared to the measured emotions of the rest of the cast. Of course, this can all be explained as her character being a counterpoint to Leslie Cheung’s coolness, a character hurting in a way such as to be mentally disturbed. But such explanations still require an extra viewing in order to address the initial cringe reflex. Other scenes may at first strike as slightly contrived, for example Tony Leung Chiu-Wai’s death speech about not expecting to hear his own blood spurt out, but such is the nature of things I have already accepted this to be a part of the film’s natural structure. However, those not traditionally enamoured by Wong Kar Wai’s work are unlikely to be so forgiving and be won over by this film - aside from the various ‘idiosyncrasies’ and contrivances (which any fan would forgive or even relish on further viewing), the film’s themes, between the excellent stylisms, are inescapably ‘talky’ and conceptual: which may not be entertaining for some even though for others it provides epiphany-like lift. In more recent movies Wong has managed to alter his thematic presentation with his further experience in technique, but it seems that his movies - still essentially concept movies that can effect an unprecedented emotional connection with some - will not be ‘felt’ as intensely by everyone.

So overall I would say that this film is an utterly spectacular experience at the sensory and, if you become attuned to it, emotional level. It shares a lot of thematic ground with the movie that Wong Kar Wai became world famous with, Chungking Express, which was practically made in the middle of Ashes Of Time. But whereas Chungking Express has spontaneous youth-like pizzazz, and neon-soaked urbanity to identify with, Ashes Of Time must use skewered imagination to create another world. Ashes Of Time is undoubtedly less ‘hip’, but the emotional presentation is more direct, perhaps purer. The result can be seen as ostentatious compared to Chungking Express’s minimalism, but these differences are more in surface flavour than in substance. Chungking Express uses more coded and playful references to emotions and concepts, more everyday, identifiable and - inescapable in urban society - consumerist in visualisation. Ashes Of Time has to work with less coded emotion as its connection to the audience. Neither ‘method’ is superior in itself - it’s just a matter of taste and Wong Kar Wai has smartly covered all the bases. In my opinion though, Ashes Of Time perhaps is more daring to portray such a complex yet direct emotional vista, thereby managing to be deeper and lift higher in my experience. This is purely subjective and doesn’t mean one is better than the other: Chungking Express can create a different feeling and be more uplifting and life-affirming in a different way to Ashes Of Time, and it has its less conspicuous emotional depths too.

In closing then, Ashes Of Time, like most of Wong Kar Wai’s films, can redefine your outlook on cinema. It’s one of his best movies but those who don’t find it easy to connect with his films are likely to find this his least accessible. However, those who do may appreciate this as one of the most moving, memorable experiences on film.