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Title: Fallen Angels (1995)
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| Complete credited cast: | |||
| Leon Lai | ... | Wong Chi-Ming / Killer | |
| Michelle Reis | ... | The Killer's Agent (as Michele Reis) | |
| Takeshi Kaneshiro | ... | He Zhiwu | |
| Charlie Yeung | ... | Charlie / Cherry | |
| Karen Mok | ... | Punkie / Blondie / Baby | |
 |
Fai-Hung Chan | ... | The Man Forced to Eat Icecream |
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Man-Lei Chan | ... | He Zhiwu's father (as Chen Man Lei) |
|
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Toru Saito | ... | Sato |
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To-Hoi Kong | ... | Ah-hoi |
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Lee-Na Kwan | ... | Woman Pressed to Buy Vegetables |
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Yuhao Wu | ... | Man forced to have his clothes washed |
A disillusioned killer embarks on his last hit but first he has to overcome his affections for his cool, detached partner. Thinking it's dangerous and improper to become involved with a colleague he sets out to find a surrogate for his affections. Against the sordid and surreal urban nightscape of contemporary Hong Kong, he crosses path with a strange drifter looking for her mysterious ex-boyfriend and an amusing mute trying to get the world's attention in his own unconventional ways. Written by Perry Yu <perry@pobox.com>
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The following was excerpted from a wonderful essay by Momus, and nicely highlights the themes that this film is all about (which are totally missed by the complainers here who called it boring).
"Isolated, impulsive heroes, nocturnal locations, cool music... a violent world in which sensitive people nevertheless continue to dream romantic dreams indifferent to the surrounding carnage.
In 'Fallen Angels' this happens quite literally: Agent girl Michelle Reis moons and munches dreamily in the wideangle foreground while in the background a triad fight happens in slow motion.
It's the Walkman syndrome, a thing you notice when you visit the orient. The bigger the population, the more busy the city, the more people develop the ability to retreat into an inner isolation, the space of a snackbar, a tatami mat, a computer screen, a song playing on headphones.
In the next century we will all live like this.
Wong Kar Wei maps out a perfectly postmodern, perfectly oriental psychogeography of small, busy places which nevertheless become the spawning ground of ultra-private obsessions and infatuations. Love in his films is more likely to be expressed by someone breaking into your apartment and tidying it, or by masturbation, than a healthy clinch. It is the mindset of ultrafetish, and cinematographer Chris Doyle puts it into images: a clear plastic sheath worn over a Chinese silk dress, a mute riding the corpse of a pig in an abattoir, a blow up sex doll with its head stuck in an elevator door, being kicked insanely by a couple of ultra-romantic maniacs.
And there is the real star, the traum-city itself. Corridors, subways, neon, time lapse, travelators and low flying jets, trains, shopping arcades, Chung King Mansions stuffed to the gullets with sullen, sweating people cooled by antique electric fans, the scheming tattooed triads, outbursts of random violence, warehouses, chopping knives, video cameras, motorbikes speeding through tunnels, the multi-racial hand in hand with the super-commercial... Hong Kong insinuates itself into our imaginations as the ubertraumstadt, the place of ultimate nightmare and ultimate romance, where beauty is all the more poignant for its dark, cheap, pitiless setting and dreams are all the more necessary."