That's a Wrap

The forty-first installment of the Hong Kong International Film Festival drew to a close a few nights ago, concluding what is very likely my favorite fortnight of this city's cultural landscape. Filmmakers and cinéastes from every corner of the globe pour into the Pearl of the Orient, bringing with them their passion and their art. For the seventh year in a row, I anxiously studied the festival schedule, marking up the films I definitely wanted to see, and the ones that piqued my interest for further investigation. In the end, I laid out an itinerary to see around twenty, knowing my final tally would be a bit lower, with life getting in the way. 

This year's festival began on a disappointing note, but quickly found its footing to take its place among the best years. On Wednesday the 12 of April, my friend Yvonne and I met at the Grand Cinema in Kowloon to see Wiener-Dog, the first of two films I had a ticket for that night. It has escaped my initial perusal of the festival catalog, but on a subsequent review I wound up investigating further. A cast to die for: Ellen Burstyn, Danny DeVito, Greta Gerwig and Julie Deply... A hilarious trailer. It seemed a perfect kickoff for the two week event. Unfortunately, the film itself was a big disappointment, and I was so depressed at its conclusion that I opted to skip the second film I had a ticket for that night and simply rush home to cuddle with Fredric. 

Thursday was the eve of the following day's public holiday for Good Friday. I was exhausted and went straight home after work, debating whether or not to even go to the 10pm screening I had a ticket for: Fritz Lang's 1921 Destiny. Of course, I convinced myself to man up and make the short trek from Happy Valley to City Hall in Central. Seeing a 1920s classic restored on the big screen is an event in itself, so although I can't say Destiny has taken its place among any list of all-time favorites, I'm very glad I got a chance to experience it. 

But Friday was when my movie-going kicked into high gear. Loving, a dramatization of the 1960s landmark supreme court case Loving v. Virginia, which decided once and for all that interracial marriage was Constitutional. Through powerful performances by Ruth Nega and Joel Edgerton, the story of the Lovings was touchingly brought to life, and the director and his crew did a fantastic job of evoking that era with equal parts nostalgia for the music and fashions of the day yet an honest assessment of the racial undertones that made life so difficult, so unfair, for so many. 

My second film of the day was François Ozon's newest psychological drama, Frantz, which was among the films I was so excited to see. He took the skeleton of his story from an old Ernst Lubitsch drama called Broken Lullaby, but, being Ozon, he fleshed it out, added an entirely new second half, and created a thought-provoking epic about love, death, family and friendship. It's the kind of film who's memory lingers long after the screen goes black.

Saturday I caught an amazing British film called Their Finest, which told the story of the government's propaganda film department during WWII and the morale-boosting flicks they created for a war-weary public. The stirring adventure yarn provided a rousing film-within-a-film while the story of the lives of those whose talents went into its creation added a human element. The end result was certainly one of the most touching and entertaining films I caught this year.

The second film of the day was Jim Jarmush's newest personal drama, Paterson, set in my home state of New Jersey. It's a quiet film about a NJ Transit bus driver whose girlfriend dreams of making it big as a country singer or baker while he earns their collective daily bread on the streets of the titular city. His passion is poetry, which he writes in a notebook every spare moment he can find. The film, deceptively simple, traces a week in his life, and while nothing truly momentous occurs, it's a beautiful little tome on one man's innermost thoughts and how he interacts with the world around him.

Of course, Easter Sunday isn't really a day for movie-going, but there was only one screening of Nocturnal Animals at this year's festival, and there was no way I was missing it. From its mesmerizing opening title sequence through the ambiguous, devastating conclusion, I was truly riveted from start to finish. I was in awe of the crop of top-flight performers, many of whom had little more than glorified cameos (Army Hammer, Isla Fisher, Michael Sheen, Laura Linney) while the main cast (Amy Adams, Jake Gyllenhaal, Michael Shannon and Aaron Taylor-Johnson) knocked my socks off with their dynamite work.

One of the major highlights of each festival installment is the bevvy of "Restored Classics," which this year included Akira Kurasowa's monumental Seven Samurai. Easter Monday, which is a holiday in Hong Kong, was absolutely gorgeous, weather-wise. Still, I opted to shut myself inside the Hong Kong Cultural Centre for nearly four hours to catch it. Seeing the iconic classic for the first time—although I own it on DVD—was nothing short of breathtaking.

Back to work on Tuesday after the four day weekend, I could hardly believe that the festival was entering its second week. My movie for the night was Revenger, for some odd reason the title the HKIFF Society decided to rename Walter Hill's newest venture, The Assignment. Hill explained that his goal was to update the B movies of the Golden Age of Hollywood, and the end result was a wild ride. Sigourney Weaver was unforgettable as a half-crazed surgeon (a la Hannibal Lector) who took her revenge on the hired hit man who murdered her brother by performing an involuntary sex change operation. Michelle Rodriguez was equally memorable as Frank, the hoodlum now coming to terms with his new self while concocting the punishment for the woman who destroyed his world.

Taken from the Star Ferry, on my way over to catch Revenger

I normally plan my "two-movie days" on the weekends or public holidays, but Wednesday, in spite of working a full string of hours at the office, I managed to squeeze a double header into my evening. I caught the Star Ferry again to cross from Central to Tsim Sha Tsui, and I met up with my friends Yvonne and Danijela for the quirky Serbian flick On the Milky Road. Danijela, being Serbian, was both proud and delighted to show off a slice of her country so far away from home, and she kept whispering asides to me throughout the screening.

Description of On the Milky Road, posted in the lobby of the Cultural Centre

Then Yvonne and I hopped in a taxi to Olympic, where we had tickets to the sold-out screening of Anton Yelchin's final film, Porto, directed by Gabe Klinger. It was his first narrative feature, having cut his teeth as a film critic and documentarian before trying his hand at a new style. To boot, he appeared both before and after the screening to talk about his inspiration, the film making process and the technical side of production. The film was gorgeous to look at, and rich in detail. A longing romantic drama about a French student and American drifter whose lives intersect in the Portuguese city of its title, Porto—needless to say—was made all the more bittersweet knowing the tragic end its young lead actor came to not long after the production wrapped.

Friday might have been the highlight of the entire festival, not simply because the movie I attended itself was mesmerizing, but because its director appeared pre- and post-screening, speaking for over an hour afterwards and fielding questions from the audience. The film in question: Personal Shopper; its director: the great Olivier Assayas. Starring Kristen Stewart as the assistant of a fashion model who may or may not be receiving messages from beyond the grave, Personal Shopper was gripping, thought-provoking and chilling. It was a throwback to those great old thrillers in the Hitchcockian vein, where excitement and fear are built through suspense and innuendo as opposed to blood, gore and special effects. Sitting in the balcony of the Cultural Centre's Grand Theatre, I loved every minute of it.

Olivier Assayas!

Saturday I forwent with movies in favor of a wedding party on Victoria Harbour to celebrate the union of my friends Sven and Vanessa. But it was back to the cinema on Sunday, with a late screening of a Romanian film, Scarred Hearts, in Elements. Filmed in the Academy ratio and mostly comprised of perfectly static shots, Scarred Hearts tells the devastating story of a young writer convalescing from spinal tuberculosis in a seaside sanatorium. He and the other patients try their best to maintain a normal life, in spite of the personal pains and horrors that fill their waking hours. The attention to detail given to the set design and costuming, in addition to the appealing characters, made it a pleasure to watch despite its extreme length.

The festival was entering its final days, and I was both grateful for the films I'd so far experienced and disappointed that I hadn't managed to squeeze in more! So although I was tired after a full Monday in the office, I duly crossed the harbor to catch a screening of Robert Bresson's French classic Pickpocket, which I'd never seen before despite having heard and read so much about it over the years. It was another great opportunity to see one of filmdom's most revered treasures the way it was meant to be seen.

Like that, it was Tuesday, the last day of screenings. I intended to fit in two movies, just as I had intended to do that first night. And just like that night, the first film put me in such a mood that I just wasn't interested in seeing another one afterwards. Fortunately, this time, it was because I had such a feel-good high from movie number one that I simply wanted to wander around the streets of Kowloon savoring the lingering buzz of veritable cinematic euphoria!

The movie was Anne Hui's 2008 homespun drama The Way We Are. Detailing the modest daily lives of a single mom and her young son who befriend an elderly neighbor in Hong Kong's New Territories, the deceptively simple story reveals the importance of family and community. Filled with understated performances focusing on quiet, often wordless personal interaction, The Way We Are ranks among the very best Hong Kong films I've yet seen.

I wandered out of the screening room at the Hong Kong Science Museum and strolled across to the vibrant streets of Tsim Sha Tsui, eyeing the buildings, signs and people with loving attention, trying to pick out the details Ms. Hui had highlighted so poignantly in her magnificent film. I realized in those moments, as I so often do, just how lucky I am to have found myself living for over seven years now in such a special and delightful city. So the 41st Hong Kong International Film Festival ended on the highest of high notes, and I remain absolutely smitten with the place I love to call home.

See you next year!

Seventh Sevens

Yep, that's right... Last weekend, as Hong Kong put on its notorious Rugby Sevens tournament, I realized that this year marked my seventh annual participation in the sensational event. Back in 2011, twenty-four year old Paul made his way into the stadium too late on Saturday morning to gain entry to the already-full South Stand. In 2012, dressed as a penguin, he showed up bright and early... and got in! And it's been a full-proof plan ever since.

My first Sevens in 2011!

I know I've written a post about the Sevens for several years, so I probably wind up repeating myself. But the weekend itself—Friday, Saturday and Sunday—is only a part of the fun. With an estimated ten thousand overseas visitors pouring into Hong Kong for the event, the whole week leading up to it is memorable as well. 

In fact, the Hong Kong Jockey Club moves the Wednesday night races, normally held in Happy Valley, to Sha Tin during Sevens week. I'm convinced it's because they want to avoid any raucous rugby fans wreaking havoc in the centrally-located racetrack. 

Thursday evening, the eve of the kickoff, I went for dinner with my friend Marouen, who lives in Singapore but never fails to venture up to the SAR for Sevens weekend. We later linked up with our friend Lou and Kathy, grabbing drinks in Wan Chai and Lan Kwai Fong, as the night wore on.

Al's Diner on Thursday night

Of course, it was tough to focus on work on Friday, and I left the office a little earlier than I should have, to meet up with a colleague at Staunton's in SoHo. 

A few months ago, one of my favorite SoHo restaurants closed down, Yorkshire Pudding. In my humble opinion, it served both Hong Kong's best bloody mary and eggs benedict, so it was more than a disappointment when I learned it was shutting its doors for the last time. Adding insult to injury, it was replaced with a Burger King, which I promised myself I would never patron. 

However, as we drank our beers at Staunton's, alongside the Escalator, some girls emerged from the neighboring Burger King to pass out flyers advertising Carlsbergs for HKD 10. Incredulously I ventured inside and inquired if one had to also purchase food in order to enjoy the ridiculous beer deal. "Nope, it's just HKD 10 for a Carlsberg," I was told.

"I'll take three please," I said, forking over thirty bucks. So I guess I broke my vow of never buying something from the place. Still, the deal only lasted as long as the weekend, and I never went so far as to purchase any food. So I'm O.K. with it. 

Sevens always comes around quickly, but it really sneaked up on us this year. Although I racked my brain trying to come up with a clever, topical costume, I just ran out of time. On Saturday morning, I grabbed a cheap clown wig and sequin jacket from the "costume closet" in my flat and hoped nobody would ask what I was supposed to be. 

Courtney and I made our way to the South Stand, which was already nearing capacity when we entered just before 8:30am! And the day, as is its custom, just dissipated. I bumped into so many friends who I hadn't seen in such a long while, and it was so great to catch up. Of course, it's all kind of a blur, but a very delightful one.

On Sunday, I met my friends Pierre and Eddy at Hong Kong Stadium, where we opted for seats in the Upper West Stands, so we could actually appreciate some of the sportsmanship on display. It was great to watch some first-class matches, including a dramatic semi-final face-off between the USA and South Africa. It was probably the single best Rugby Sevens game I've ever watched, but sadly South Africa just edged out our boys in extra time.

By the time South Africa and Fiji squared off against each other in the final, I was engrossed. And Fiji tore it apart, shutting out the competition and taking the top prize, as expected. The impressive fireworks shooting from overhead afterwards, and the lights blazing all over the stadium, it was clear once again why this is such a special weekend to all of us in Hong Kong. 

Cheers to you, Rugby Sevens. I promise I'll get a better costume for next year. I'm brainstorming my ideas already!

Last-Minute Getaway

 

On Thursday of last week, I was hoping to enjoy a quiet weekend in Hong Kong. With this weekend's Rugby Seven tournament, I thought a little rest would be in order, to adequately prepare for the madness. But by Friday, I had other plans... I was headed to Bangkok!

Amy was back in Asia, and had spent the past string of days in Singapore with Sonia and Motez, who's wedding will be taking place in Tunisia in August. As a sort of pre-wedding celebration, they had the idea that we would all get together in Bangkok, and even went so far as to treat me to my plane tickets!

As weekend trips go, this one started as a very pleasant surprise but quickly devolved into chaos. 

First, I arrived at the airport only to learn my flight time had been pushed back from 11:55pm to 12:30pm. It was well past then when the Hong Kong Airlines staff were finally ready to board the passengers, in a haphazard, disorganized fashion. I'd say it was nearer 2am by the time we were airborne at last.

Once through customs in Bangkok, I made a beeline for the taxi queue, which was quick and painless. However, a few moments after we began cruising down the highway towards my destination, it began to rain, lightly at first and then, eventually, in a torrential manner! 

The apartment where we were staying, called The Rise, was located off Sukhomvit Soi 39, but just where off Soi 39 remained a mystery to me and the taxi driver. He made a left off the main drag onto Soi 39, and we slowly made our way through the rising flood. I looked out the left-side window, reading the name of each and every building we went past, but I could not locate one called The Rise. On a second round, I sidled across to the right-hand side, but again had no luck.

But before we could attempt a third rotation, the driver pulled over back on Sukhomvit. "Water too high now. Taxi can't go. You must walk."

After arguing that that was a ridiculous suggestion, seeing as it was a monsoon outside and I had no idea where I was going, I eventually decided that I would have to attempt the journey on foot. I placed my phone, passport and wallet deep inside my suitcase, and zipped it tight. And then I just prepared to get drenched.

The water, and I'm not exaggerating, was up to my knees or higher, and my shoes were only going to make matters more difficult, so I had to proceed barefoot! And each time a car would pass, the river through which I was walking would rise with  a wave, sometimes taking the trash bags from one side of the "street" and moving them to the other—the rubbish often slamming into me.

The map I had printed up was useless, impossible to unfold because of how wet it had gotten in my pocket. And all the security guards dutifully seated outside their own condos seemed unfamiliar with The Rise. 

Anyway, I was as wet as humanly possible when I finally found the place, a right turn off the main soi and another right after that! It was at least an hour later by this point, so the rain was showing signs of cooling down and the sky already begin to lighten with Saturday morning's sun. A dripping reunion was in order with Sonia and Amy, but sadly I learned Motez—due to unforeseen visa complications—was unable to join at the last minute.

I hopped straight into the shower, first with all my clothes on, so that the flowing stream of water would cleanse them of any vestiges of the murky, trash-filled water I'd had to wade through to arrive. We hung them up on the balcony to dry afterwards.

After Sonia went to sleep, Amy and I stayed awake for a long while just catching up before getting a few hours' shut eye. 

There's a market in Bangkok, Chatuchak (or the Weekend Market) which is claimed to be among the largest in the world. Located a few steps away from the Mo Chi BTS station, the market is a sprawling complex of shops, stalls and restaurants. It's one of the city's premier attractions, for both tourists and locals alike, so I suppose it's a bit funny that I'd never been before. 

We had an absurdly filling lunch of all the Thai favorites before spending several hours doing our rounds of the stalls and shops. I bought a new pair of flip flops, as the strap of the right shoe I had been wearing had given way earlier in the day. And a little bit later, I also saw a t-shirt that stole my heart, and I had to buy it. The girls similarly loaded up on goodies.

I must admit, although not every market is for me, I thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon at this atmospheric place. But, boy, was I ready for a rooftop drink at Sky Train Jazz Bar when we had shopped to our hearts' content. 

You may remember Sky Train, as I had visited on my last trip to the city. Located near the Victory Monument BTS, the bar is housed on the rooftop of a five or six story walk-up with murals on the walls, potted plants all around and a great bevvy of tunes, as the sun set and the cold Singhas kept on flowing. 

And once the sun was set and the night sky had taken control of the city, we hopped in an Uber to Khaosan Road, the backpacker Mecca of Bangkok. Somehow, we were hungry again, and tasty Thai Street food always does the trick.

But as we were wandering along Khaosan after dinner looking for a spot for a drink, I suddenly heard load shrieks and screams to my left. Justin Bieber, I assumed, must have just arrived. It turns out that Katy and Lily, two colleagues from my Bangkok office, had spotted me out of the corner of their eyes!

And after introducing them to Sonia and Amy, we spent the rest of the night dancing, chatting, drinking and—eventually—eating again, at a twenty-four hour restaurant near the apartment. The girls came back to The Rise with us, and it was about 8am when they returned home!

Sunday, as you'd probably expect, got off to a very late start. There had been talk about visiting a floating market, or some other similarly touristy attraction, but by the time we'd finally gotten our acts together, there was little time to do much of that. Although Amy and I wouldn't be flying until the following morning, Sonia would have to head to the airport around 6pm. And it was already nearly 3pm!

So we headed over to Thong Lor, where we wandered a bit before settling on a sidewalk lunch venue. We then indulged in foot massages before one last communal sticky rice, from a place purported to be the best in Bangkok! 

After Sonia left, Amy and I popped over to the Robin Hood Pub for a drink before venturing back to Thong Lor for dinner at Soul Food, a restaurant that I had just loved on my last visit to the city. A branch has since opened on Elgin Street in Hong Kong, and I've gone several times. It never disappoints. And over some creative mixed drinks, we indulged in sensational Thai dishes, all prepared and served with flair and elan. (Including an ant egg curry!)

We capped off the evening with a series of cocktails at the Iron Fairies, again a Bangkok establishment I had visited on my last trip, and which has also recently seen a copy open in the city I call home. It was great to just continue catching up with Amy over some killer drinks, as there was so much to talk about that had happened in both our lives over the past two years. When the lights came on and we realized we would have to go home, we barely had an hour's sleep before it was time to head to the airport.

The Iron Fairies in Thong Lor

In a geeky way, I was actually a little excited, because on all my previous trips in and out of Bangkok, I'd always flown to and from Suvarnabhumi (BKK). However, this leg would be departing from the city's other international airport, Don Meuang (DMK). Although I can't say there was much going on between 4:30am and 6:30am while I waited to board the flight, I did my best to wander around and get a feel for the place. 

My eyes were shut immediately after we became airborne, and I slept the whole way back to Hong Kong. It may have been a short one—and it may have gotten off on the wrong foot—but in the end, it was a fantastic unexpected holiday!