Hi everybody, and welcome to Mark Overanalyses Film! Today I will be looking at the 2000 Hong Kong film In The Mood For Love: the yearningest film that ever did yearn.

A quick note before I go on though: in my previous episode on Star Wars The Last Jedi, I feel like I missed something. I said at one point that I felt that there was an overall story shape around the idea of hope, but I really should have said that there was an overall story shape around the idea of hope or faith in tradition, or something to that effect. That’s really what is being tested. But the film made me so crazy, that I seemed to flub that part! The point I was making still stands however, that the fact that this story is not invested in one character and lacks precision really muddies the issue. Still, I wish I had gotten it right, so apologies! But anyways, we’ve got something much more interesting to get into, so allow my anger to subside and my deep, unsatiated yearning to take over. 

In The Mood For Love was written and directed by Wong Kar-Wai and stars the impossibly charismatic and attractive duo Tony Leung and Maggie Cheung. I’ve decided to overanalyse this film for a couple of reasons. One: starting out here, I wasn’t totally sure who the protagonist was. Is it Mr Chow? Or Mrs Chan? Or is it both and we’re dealing with a multi-protagonist story? The second is this: this is arguably the film that spawned this podcast. A few years ago, I was having a chat with a very talented director and she stated that this film didn’t have a typical ‘Hollywood’ type structure. Now, this lady knew then and knows now a lot more than I do about filmmaking, but I knew she was wrong! But I also knew where she was coming from. In The Mood For Love just feels like it glides by on a mood. You don’t really feel the gear shifts even though they are actually pretty clearly demarcated. And yet, In The Mood For Love just feels like the most intense dream you’ve ever had. So, why is that? Well, that’s what I’d like to find out.

So, with that in mind, first, I’ll look at the fundamental features of the protagonist, and then I’ll go through the main story beats by looking at the sequences of the film. Then, I’ll talk about the main things I learned along the way.

Ok, so, without further ado, let’s get into the 5 Questions about the protagonist. 

Q1: Whose story is it? 

Or, who is the protagonist? Now, In The Mood For Love I think is especially interesting in this regard, because it is not so easy to discern. Is it Mr Chow, or Mrs Chan, or both? Well, for reasons I’ll get into, I’m going to say it’s Mrs Chan: a young wife in 1960s Hong Kong. She works in a Shipping Company of some kind, but really for our purposes, the fact that she’s a young married woman is far more important. 

Q2: What is his life dream?
Life dream here refers to what it is that the protagonist wants or is aiming to do when the film begins and the story has yet to properly start. Now, this is another interesting question here, because as best as I can figure, I would say Mrs Chan’s life dream is probably to do exactly what she’s expected to do. She obeys the rules, and that’s where she’s comfortable, at least at this point. So, she probably does look at her landlady as a form of role model I would posit, even if deep down, she has reservations.

Q3: What is his want?

Want here is what the character is trying to achieve in Act II of the film, from the moment they really begin their journey until the moment they are at their most defeated. As such, it is a SMART goal, in that it is Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Relevant, and Time bound. Now, this is an interesting question, and perhaps the core of why this film feels the way it does. I find it hard to pin down the SMART goal. I definitely feel like a question is asked 27 minutes in, at the end of Act I, and then answered at the end of Act II, about 50 minutes later. I initially thought it was that the potential lovers wanted to understand how they got cheated on and then do so by discovering that they desperately want to cheat themselves. And you could still talk me into that. But I think really Mr Chow drives Act II with his smart goal. The more I watch this film, the clearer it appears to me that he is already smitten with Mrs Chan and he is pretty much trying to get this affair thing going throughout the second act, as we’ll see. I think this, combined with the fact that it ends with Chow, is why the story feels like it might be a multi-protagonist story, but because of the next question I think it probably isn’t. 

Q4: What is his need?

Need is the human quality or piece of wisdom that the character lacks at the beginning of the story. Again, you probably could talk me into this being a multi-protagonist story, but really I think our protagonist is Mrs Chan. All film long, I just want to scream at her to never mind the neighbours! They, but especially Mrs Chan, need to move past the societal expectations and double standards to embrace their heart’s desire… or they might regret it for the rest of their lives. Again, the more I watch this film, the more I believe that Mr Chow is already there by at least the end of Sequence III, and so the tension lays with Mrs Chan. Will she act on her feelings or will she try to suppress them the way that she is suppressed individually? That is the question that truly sustains In The Mood For Love, and that to my mind makes her the protagonist.  

Q5: Does he get what he wants and/or what he needs?
I’ve done 14 films now in Mark Overanalyses Film and I think this is the first time I’ve overanalysed a film where the protagonist does not get what they want, and also not get what they need. They neither have their affair nor realise that they cannot bury or contain the emotions that would fuel it. Which is of course what makes it feel like such a heartbreaking tragedy. 

Ok, now that I’ve attempted to answer the 5 key questions, let’s have a look at In The Mood For Love’s sequences. 

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The Sequences

There is normally, but not always, 8 sequences, or stages, in a film. A sequence is a combination of scenes that are tied together by having a single overriding dramatic question or tension, and they tend to be between 10 and 15 minutes in length. A good way to think about it is that every 10-15 minutes, the audience should be on some level asking themselves a different dramatic question. And, funnily for a film that feels like it’s floating by, In The Mood For Love follows this pattern pretty tightly. But there’s something I should note here. This could totally be on me, but I’d like to note something a little unusual. The sequences here as clear as day because of the changing situation. There’s a really clear movement towards a midpoint, a really clear honeymoon period, and a clear bridge from the Honeymoon period to the low point. The situation changes really apparently. And yet, I did struggle a bit to pin down the discrete tensions or dramatic questions of the sequences. They don’t feel ill-defined, I never feel confused, and yet, it’s one of the hardest stories I’ve done to say “the question here is ‘Will X accomplish Y?’” I have  theory as to why that is, which I’ll get into later, but just know that I tried my best!

Anyways, before we start our film, we have our first of 3 captions: “It is a restless moment. She has kept her head lowered to give him a chance to come closer. But he could not, for lack of courage. She turns and walks away. Hong Kong, 1962.” What a way to start your film! It’s enigmatic and yet appears to sum up the whole thing. Then we kick into our story: and Act I has the first two of our sequences, and the first of these is basically “life as it is”. And so we join two young married people as they move into two new abodes right beside each other. And so, a situation is in flux, but this is life as it is. And life sure is cramped. Still, good thing there was no Airbnb back then or they’d have really been in trouble. 

A quick note early on here, in the first conversation between the landlady Mrs Suen and Mrs Chan, the landlady asks how to address Mrs Chan and she responds “My husband’s name is Chan.” Moments later, Mr Chow is told by the same lady that he is “too polite.” Well, one is defined by her bond to her husband, and the other for being overly deferential. It’s all very fast and by the by, but that right there is pretty much our story. What our story is then a test of is “Will she break her bond to her husband?” and/or “Will he be bold or rebellious?” and it will pile the pressure on these characters to see if that will happen. And whether it does or does not happen tells us something. That’s goddamn storytelling! It’s exciting! 

But anyways, we see all the players gradually come into play as Mr Chan returns from Japan, and once he’s back, the waltz kicks in, and for the first of many times we hear Yujemi’s Theme, the haunting, melancholic piece of music synonymous with In The Mood For Love. Now I do want to quickly note here also that Mrs Chan is already turning down dining with Mrs Suen as she mostly will throughout, but also that when Mr Chan and Mrs Chow are both around, they sit at the main table. Our main characters do not. They don’t know how to play the game, and there’s a lot of game playing going on.

Mrs Chan’s boss is having an affair. She’s facilitating it. Mr Chow is busy. The Chows have a quarrel. Is this the inciting incident — the event without which our story as it is would not happen? Soon after, Mr Chow tries to surprise his wife at work, only to discover she’s lied to him. He plays it down in the office, but there’s then a devastating cut to him on the street corner, trying to take in what he’s just discovered.

And so, now that he knows his wife is having an affair, 14 minutes in, we have our first real tension: What will Mr Chow do about it? And so, we begin sequence II. 

Now, so far, only Chow has definitely figured out that there’s some affair going on. But Mrs Chan soon lays a scheme to confirm her own suspicions, and we discover that Mr Chan and Mrs Chow are the ones having an affair. And they seem kinda brazen about it. But we do briefly see the story from their point of view, probably as comparison for the end of Act II. Mr Chow’s wife tries to pull away but is devastated, and then Mrs Chan’s husband knocks on her door. And soon, we learn that coincidentally both Mr Chan and Mrs Chow have made trips away at the same time. 

Now there’s a lot of symbolism in this film, but let me point out that our two main characters make their first break from their passivity and isolation because of… the rain. And the film appears to make a very conscious introduction to the rain here, holding on a lamp in slow motion as it starts coming down. And you’ll notice that when these characters try to keep apart, it is the rain, uncontrollable nature, that brings them together. Or maybe rain just looks cool in slow motion, I dunno. Anyways, the rain causes them to come home at the same time, and Mr Chow soon asks Mrs Chan out for coffee. 

Now what follows is an amazing scene. It comes right at the bridge to Act II, and I’m going to say it’s our “What’s the plan?” scene: the scene that tells us what our act II is going to look like. Namely, we’re going to see these two hanging out and dancing around what they both know to be true. And here we finally see what Mr Chow is going to do with the knowledge he has. Both he and Mrs Chan try to suss out what the other knows, until Mrs Chan — note Mrs Chan — asks “What are you getting at, really?”. This stops Mr Chow dead in his tracks, and the camera does an unusual whip pan movement, as if the question has just slapped him on the back of the head and said “This is happening, Chow!” Mrs Chan then reveals that she thought she was the only one who knew. Our two main characters have now come together and revealed their pain to each other, and in so doing, have begun a new adventure. And so we end Act I, and we enter Act II.

Act II begins with sequence III, the first attempts to solve the problem. Now, I think pretty much anyone would wonder pretty quickly if these two smokeshow neighbours who are both lonely will get together, but we know that’s really a longer term question. So what is the tension here then? I’d say that it’s something along the lines of “Will acting the roles of cheaters allow them to cheat themselves?”

And so, here we see what really sets In The Mood For Love apart: once the characters have begun to confront the truth, what they decide to do about it. In order to try to understand why they have been abandoned, why they are so lonely, they begin to act out potential scenarios and scenes to try and feel what their partners felt. And so, we begin with them imagining how the affair might have started. Now, I’ll talk about this more later, but it’s important to note that it always feels like we’re joining scenes late. This does a lot of things, but importantly for our story right here, it really makes it tricky to discern what is pretence or role-playing and what is genuine. The film really toys with this throughout, as these characters are already playing roles so much that it’s just one more layer. They might not even know. 

Of course, their initial attempts are unsatisfactory, either because they just don’t know enough or because, well, how could they ever be satisfied with an actual answer to the question “Why did my partner leave me for this other person?” But rather than accept it and move on, they begin a somewhat bizarre character exercise, trying to understand who they’ve been jilted for by acting like them. They go for dinner and order as their shadows. then , this leads to something else. In the back of a taxi, Mrs Chan challenges Mr Chow about not calling her that day. I don’t know how many times I’ve seen this film and I’m still not sure if she’s in character or not. And I’m not sure if Mr Chow is. In fact, I’m not sure if Mrs Chan is. He reaches over tremulously, and she pulls her hand away. Who is and is not in character here, and who knows it, is a fascinating question. It does feel like Chow did make a move, and Chan made her feelings clear though. This to my mind is very reminiscent of When Harry Met Sally. One of them is ready by the end of Sequence III, while the tension of whether the other can get there or not is the overall tension of the film. And that is what makes the other the protagonist. Anyways, our first sequence tension of Act II is answered here: acting as the cheaters will not lead them to cheat. 

Now, sequence III generally ends with the character’s first unconscious move towards their need. You could talk me into it being Mrs Chan making Mr Chow Sesame Syrup, but I think it’s probably this first acknowledgement that there is a spark here, something beyond role-playing. 

And so, we enter sequence IV, the greater attempts to solve the problem, and as the initial roleplaying has given way to limitations, I wonder some version of the question “Will these two people who are obviously drawn to each other find another reason to spend time together?” At that, a letter from Japan brings the two back together again in their misery. Mrs Chan’s clear guilt causes her to now worry about keeping up appearances. So, Chow ends up walking home in the rain, and soon gets sick. Learning that Chow is sick and craving sesame syrup, Chan makes it for him. But this could reveal too much for her, so she acts, to everyone, as if the whole thing was just a coincidence. This seems to bond the two again, and Chan soon makes another momentous decision, which you could also talk me into being the first unconscious move: she agrees to help Chow write a martial arts serial. Mrs Chan has finally given a little here, and she is now agreeing to spend time with Mr Chow not as an exercise in understanding Mrs Chow, but to create something together as themselves. And so, these two have now found a reason to spend time together, and now we’ve got some version of the question “Will they reveal their platonic relationship?”

Chow and Chan now begin to work together, but they know what they’re doing really. Come on guys, we all know what you’re doing really! And they’re frankly no good really at playing it off, so when they are working together in Chow’s room, they panic when the neighbours arrive home early. They end up having to wait all night for Mrs Chan to finally get home. And we really get a sense here of how intense and enclosed all of this is. And so, Chow decides to take a suggestive action. To be fair, in 1960s Hong Kong, it might have been regarded as unseemly for a married man and woman to work together. But for whatever reason, he decides to get his own place, far away from the neighbours, so that they can, y’know, ‘work’. Together. At this desk that only fits one person. Beside this queen sized bed. 

Anyways, once again, a move is made, but rather than suggest they keep as is, Mrs Chan once again retrenches. He doesn’t need her at all she says. And so, we have an answer: they will not go public with their platonic relationship. Rather, they might just end it.

There’s now once again a real threat to their spending any time together, so it’s high time we had our midpoint: the protagonist’s first conscious move towards her need. When Chow made a move, she pulled away, but when Chow now pulls away, she will chase him. 

Mrs Chan is really trying to maintain her status quo, but when Chow forces her to change or lose him, she changes. And so, once he disappears and then calls from the new apartment, she comes running, literally. She even has to stop herself on the landing to regain control. Now, it’s really important to note here that all Chow has done is move apartment, but this is exactly what will happen again on a much bigger scale in act III. He will make a move to go. She will refuse to go. Then, she will regret her inaction and chase him. Only at this point, that’s still possible. It’s a classic midpoint. 

And we can see how far she’s moved. The last time Chow was sick, she pretended that she cooked him sesame syrup by coincidence. Now, he’s telling her he’ll be fine but she says she’ll return tomorrow with some food anyways. And then: a rare, real addressing of what’s really going on. Chow says that he didn’t think she’d come. She responds: “We won’t be like them”. But she has allowed her heart to follow him, and they are now spending intimate time together in true privacy, and so we enter sequence V: The Honeymoon Sequence. 

Now, again quite like When Harry Met Sally, the big thing holding these two back are… these two. That’s probably a bit unfair, especially on Mrs Chan who clearly faces the possibility of getting Anna Karenina-d. But largely, the potential lovers are free here to act as they would, and the only thing that stops them is their own norms, concerns, hang ups, consciences, whatever you would like to call it. But the point is that just like When Harry Met Sally, that means that the Honeymoon period is a short one, because if these two were acting in accordance with their need for too long, then there’s really nothing to stop them. Anyways, we now see them spending time together happily, and you’ll notice that the entire time they are now draped all over and shot through a passionate red. Things are giving way here. It’s not to last, but we do have one big breakthrough moment. Mrs Chan now roleplays confronting the truth, an important movement for her. Unlike before, she is now roleplaying herself, taking her own agency back. But she’s not ready, and as Mr Chow plays her husband and ‘admits’ to the affair, she breaks down. And I love Chow’s surprised reaction, as I would be the exact same! Nevertheless, she crumples into him and weeps. These two are getting dangerously close now, and so just like that, our honeymoon period is about to come to a sudden end.

What comes next makes me so angry every single time!! Mrs Suen gives Mrs Chan a polite but clear telling off for “being out a lot”, and then tells her not to let her husband travel so much. So, it’s Mrs Chan’s fault that her husband has taken off with no return in sight?! It makes me so mad!! And then Mrs Chan takes it so hard! Come on Mrs Chan, you don’t need to take this! Don’t cave to this gossipy wagon! You deserve to be happy! But sadly, Mrs Chan goes the other way, and fully submits to Mrs Suen’s telling off. And so, we now have a new tension: having come so close to something more, having loosed their emotions just a little, can these two retrench back into a socially acceptable friendship?

Mrs Chan tells Chow they can’t spend so much time together and now finally accepts an invitation to join the neighbours for dinner. This is a classic argument / counterargument representation. A move away from Chow is a move towards the neighbours. A move away from passion is a move towards social acceptability. And yet, as the rest sit around the table, she still stands. She is not one of them, and she never truly will be. We then see Mr Chow putting up a show at work, but he is clearly melancholic. One more note, just cos it infuriates me, Mrs Chan returns from lunch and her boss gives her the message that Mr Chow called for her. Her boss then shakes his head disapprovingly. This guy! Who has clearly had a mistress for years! God, the double-standards! Anyways, she doesn’t return the call, and once again our characters are only brought together by the rain. And then we learn why Chow was calling.

Chow has decided to take action again. At the midpoint, he moved to a distant apartment, but that didn’t work. So, now at the end of Act II, he’s leaving for Singapore. And you can see Mrs Chan is devastated by this news. Suddenly, she’s asking why he’s “rushing off” and saying why worry about the gossip when there’s nothing in it, despite the fact that she is the one who has clearly retrenched because of the gossip. This is great characterisation. I’m so frustrated by Mrs Chan throughout, but at no point do I not see why she’s acting the way she’s acting. It’s great, heartbreaking storytelling. 

And speaking of heartbreaking, Chow finally fully addresses what has been going on. He now understands what happened with their partners. He’s in love with Mrs Chan. And she won’t act on that, so he has to leave. But: he wants to be ready for when they do say goodbye, so they now roleplay that. Note: they first roleplayed as each other’s partners, then in the Honeymoon period Mrs Chan began to play herself, now they are finally both themselves, and finally embracing the reality of the situation. And it’s devastating for Mrs Chan. But once again, when she’s shaken out of her status quo, she will act. Now that their relationship is doomed, she begins to act on her feelings. In a taxi, she rests her head on his shoulder, she tells him she doesn’t want to go home tonight, and in direct contrast to Sequence III, allows him to hold her hand. It’s funny that I had never really thought about how suggestive this is that they really may have consummated the affair, but if it’s suggested, it’s certainly never confirmed. 

Mr Chow is soon leaving, but there’s one more phonecall. One final plea: come with him. And again: Mrs Chan is so frustrating! Mr Chow leaves believing she did not come. But then we see that she rushes there only to arrive too late! Whether or not she had planned to join him or just see him off, I can’t help but think, at this point, that this must be deliberate self-sabotage. And now, Mrs Chan is left completely alone, left now by not one but two men. They could not retrench into friendship. They could not stay within the strictures of their society, but she could not bring herself to act on her feelings either. She no longer believes in the counterargument, but the argument seems impossible. It’s her lowest moment. And so, we enter Act III.

Act III has a false resolution and a true resolution, and the first thing to note is just like act I, the pacing really ramps up again, making the whole thing feel slightly chaotic. Chow is now in Singapore, and something from his room is missing… and then he notices that there’s lipstick on a smoked cigarette. He is soon telling his only friend, good ol’ degenerate Ping about how people in the old days used to whisper secrets into a hole in a tree, cover it with mud, and leave it there. 

And then we discover why Chow was missing something in his room. Mrs Chan visited, and she seemed to luxuriate in being in his room. But he wasn’t there, so she calls him. And he answers. And this is it! Surely! These two are finally going to get together! She’s come all this way! But… she is unable to speak. And eventually hangs the phone back up. No film has ever expressed so much the English language quirk that you really need to ‘commit’ adultery. These people have no follow through! And so, Chan leaves again. And at that, their last real chance to make this happens floats by.

And at that, our false resolution gives way to our true resolution: this affair, it would seem, will never actually happen. We join Mrs Chan some years later back in Hong Kong, visiting Mrs Suen. The old landlady is moving to the States to help raise her grandkids. Man, if she thought Mrs Chan was stepping out of line, she’s got some surprises coming her way in 1970s America. But at this point we see what a mark all this has left on Mrs Chan. Once she discovers that the apartment is for rent, she is clearly interested in renting it, and we feel once again like she’s trying to stay close to something that she could never actually embrace. As Mrs Suen comments about how nice it was back then, Mrs Chan has to hold back her tears as she stares wistfully out the window.

But we don’t end our story with Mrs Chan, but rather with Mr Chow, and one final near miss. He arrives back to his old landlord, who it turns out has moved on. He is told that a woman and her child now live next door. Does he suspect it’s Mrs Chan? Hard to say. As he leaves, he stops at her front door and seems to consider it, but then we get another caption: “That era has passed. Nothing that belonged to it exists any more” and the sound of footsteps walking away. You might notice that the Spanish version of the song “Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps” is played often throughout this movie. But while up to this point the song has stopped playing, as this caption appears, it is the first time in the film that a piece of music actually ends. It’s a great touch.

But while this is a conclusion (these two did not get together), this isn’t really much of a resolution. It doesn’t really tell us how it leaves the characters. And so, we have one more scene. Some time later, Chow visits Angkor Wat, the ruins of an ancient temple: a place that recalls a glorious time that cannot be returned to. And it is here where he will leave his secret. One final note here: in the final film, this is quite an enigmatic ending, but there’s a deleted scene where the Mrs Chan and Mr Chow meet one last time at these ruins, moments before Chow takes this final action, giving it some added context. The two bump into each other and make small talk before she has to rush off. We learn here that she is still married but he is now single. As she leaves, he asks her if at some stage in the past she rang him. She takes a beat and then responds: “I have forgotten about it.” At that, she walks off, and leaves a clearly hurt Mr Chow. The pain now feels like his alone, and so he makes this attempt to bury it in a hole in Angkor Wat.

But we are left with one final message: “He remembers those vanished years. As though looking through a dusty window pane, the past is something he could see, but not touch. And everything he sees is blurred and indistinct.” 

It would appear that feelings cannot ever truly be buried or contained. The fact that these characters never learnt that is the tragedy here, and the memories and regrets will stay with them forever.

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Man alive, there’s so much to get into here, but I’m going to try to limit myself to two topics: 1. Why In The Mood For Love feels so seamless when it is actually quite tightly structured, and 2. The fact that this is the first film I’ve done on this podcast where the protagonist does not achieve her need, and therefore does not change, and how that idea is expressed throughout the film. But in order to discuss these, I briefly have to introduce two interesting film theory terms: mise-en-scene and decollage.

Now, mise en scene and decollage are both terms that have been so wildly re-interpreted throughout film theory history that they could potentially mean anything, including each other. But the way I always found them interesting to think about is in contrast to each other. So, I ended up understanding them thusly: mise-en-scene is basically anything within the frame or shot or scene that informs its meaning. In this film, for example, the characters are constantly hemmed in by a frame within a frame, and are often shown behind bars. Decollage, on the other hand, is anything outside of the frame or shot or scene that informs its meaning. Now, that could be what isn’t shown, like the faces of their partners, or it could be how a shot or scene compares to a similar shot or scene elsewhere in the film, like when Mrs Chan does not and then does let Mr Chow hold her hand. I’ve never seen a film so confidently, brazenly, and profoundly convey meaning through both mise-en-scene and decollage.

Now there’s loads of video essays on the mise-en-scene in In The Mood For Love and I would highly recommend looking them up. It is one the most famous films for the use of mise-en-scene and rightly so. But I’m going to focus on my earlier questions. 1. Why does In The Mood For Love feel so seamless? What makes it feel so dreamlike? Well, in the film Memento, Christopher Nolan tells the story of a man, Leonard, with short term memory loss, and we are told the story from his perspective. And so, in order to convey Leonard’s sense of disorientation, Nolan decided to do two things: he would show scenes out of order and ask us to piece them together, and he would constantly introduce us into a scene After it had already started. This made it hard for the audience to follow and they’d really have to concentrate to keep things in their head, just like the protagonist Leonard has to. Well, In The Mood For Love is surprisingly similar in a lot of respects. We jump between scenes with little warning and not much indication of how much time has passed, and in Act III we are shown scenes out of chronological order. Furthermore, we keep joining scenes late, meaning we have to try and catch up and figure out what is going on, and often who is playing what role. But. While Memento wants to make us feel tense, In The Mood For Love wants almost the opposite. The languid, yearning music and slow motion combined with the extensive use of vivid, luscious colour kind of lulls us. It’s a strange mix, being disorientated and lulled at the same time. And I think it’s what makes In The Mood For Love kind of feel like a dream. 

And that brings me on to that second topic: a tragedy is generally a film where the protagonist does not realise or embrace their need. Therefore, generally speaking, a tragedy is a film where the protagonist does not change. Or at least doesn’t change enough, or doesn’t change fundamentally. Just as Memento’s disorienting structure puts us in Leonard’s shoes, In The Mood For Love’s intoxicating dreamlike quality puts us in the shoes of Mrs Chan. 

Act I feels like it rushes by. Viewers often find it hard to follow. And then once Act III kicks in, time feels like it’s accelerating away from us. By the time we see Mrs Chan in Singapore, she’s already gone. But the film notably slows down the moment the two main characters go for coffee, and stays slower throughout Act II, when these two characters are together in each other’s lives. And this also creates a sense that this is the stuff that is imprinted in memory. Now, there’s a whole other element to In The Mood For Love that I really haven’t addressed, because there’s just so much to address! The whole thing is really an allegory for a lost but turbulent time in 1960s Hong Kong that Wong Kar Wai clearly romanticises. That time passed, but left a permanent imprint on the director. And similarly, while everything else feels transient, the time that Mrs Chan spent with Mr Chow will stay with them forever, even as it gets further and further away from them. But that moment is both disorienting and lulling for the characters as well. They are never sure how much time they have, never know how much time they are losing, and they never realise just how precious that time would be. Mrs Chan really struggles throughout with whether to stick or twist, giving in just a little, then pulling away, then giving in a little bit more, then pulling away even further, not realising that her window of opportunity to do this is small and getting smaller all the time.

 Time keeps skipping forward, but at the same time, there is an entropy of habit. The impulse for repetition was too strong, with no sense that the music will eventually stop. And then, when it came to the crunch, Mrs Chan did not twist but stick. Given the choice between the real change of acting and perhaps staying in Singapore or not changing and deciding to live in the same place she felt like a prisoner, she chose the latter. That moment is gone, but she will remember it forever. Like the most intense dream she ever had. 

This has been Mark Overanalyses Film on In The Mood For Love. Next time, it’s almost Halloween, so I guess it’s about damn time I overanalysed one of the all-time greats: Alien. If you enjoyed this episode, please like, rate, follow, recommend, and whatever else it is that’s good for this kind of thing! A special thanks to Mary Kate O’Flanagan who taught me everything I know about film, including these methods. Thanks for listening. Take care of yourselves, and see you soon.