There’s nothing wrong with that-it even has the B-movie charm of Hong Kong genre films-but that device never returns. The film, contrary to the slow drama I described, starts with an action scene that recaptures the former glory of the assassins through freeze-frame comic book splashes. Three-Minute Patience Courtesy of Homemade Holdings Limited.īut that isn’t Ko’s only gaze, and that’s where the film’s problems stem from. These plot points sound tired and clichéd, but they are made effective by Ricky Ko’s careful, ponderous gaze. On the opposite end is Tsz-ying (Chung Suet-ying), the over-energetic teenage girl who grows a makeshift familial bond with Chau. A particularly moving hit job sees a rich but castoff client desperately longing for one last conversation with another human being. There are many other similar thematic ruminations written by screenwriters Gordon Lam (yes, that Gordon Lam, leading man in Hong Kong cinema and recipient of NYAFF’s Variety Star Asia Award) and Ho Ching-yi.
Fung (Petrina Fung) aren’t corny, but precious, saddening, and preserved. Under this context, the ’80s-sounding songs performed by Mrs. AI robots replace Chau (Patrick Tse), a chef of hand-chopped noodles blue screen glow and internet-speak proliferate communication. Not to politicize a film that isn’t concerned with hot-button topics, but Time nonetheless laments a Hong Kong culture and way of living facing inevitable elimination. They make the audience witness the toll time takes on people and the environment they live in.
It’s impossible to deny the emotional power of many scenes and lines in films about aging the weight is literally there on the actors’ bodies, wrinkles, hair or lack thereof. A Matter of Life and Death Courtesy of Homemade Holdings Limited. The problem is how unbalanced these elements are, and how quickly the premise derails into an unfocused plot. On paper, there aren’t many premises juicier and richer than that, and Ko takes the obvious call to deliver thrills, laughs, and plenty of contemplation on life and death. They hit a roadblock when one of their clients lies about her age and turns out to be a 16-year-old girl. The octogenarians in question are three former assassins, and that second chance takes the form of setting up an assisted suicide service for elderlies who’d rather take the opposite path towards death.
Not only does that reflect how hard it is to advance your career in the Hong Kong entertainment business, it also surprisingly befits the story of the film: octogenarians getting a second chance in life. Yet here’s the plot twist: the grey-haired Ko has been an assistant director for more than 20 years. You may confuse Time, director Ricky Ko’s debut feature, for another entry to the growing canon of promising, local films made by young Hong Kong directors.
0 kommentar(er)
