Dreamy July

Six Years With The Mutt

 Shock! Craziness! This you won’t believe!

Or perhaps you will. But today marks six years, yes SIX!, since I adopted my beloved pooch. And I just wanted to post a quick little installment in my series of anniversary posts, to celebrate our partnership!

Here’s to all the hikes and island days, the rooftop parties and restaurant outings, here’s to all the little ways in which you make my life so much more fun! 

To celebrate, after work tonight, I took him up the Peak for dinner at Rajasthan Rifles, followed by our favorite moonlit stroll along Lugard Road. Amazing, as always…

Love ya, little guy, and many happy returns of the day!

Whoops!

Cinephilia 2021

Well, the forty-fifth annual Hong Kong International Film Festival drew to a close two nights ago, as I ventured to Tsim Sha Tsui via Star Ferry for the umpteenth time in twelve days, to catch an intense but stunning Russian drama called Dear Comrades! It was a fitting ending to a powerful stretch of (mostly) great movies that had started back on the first of the month. 

With the 2020 iteration of HKIFF cancelled twice last year due to COVID, I made up my mind long ago that, as long as the government gave the festival a green light, I was making the most of things. 

Boy, did I do it. I bought seventy-four tickets to twenty-five screenings. So I guess it's pretty safe to assume I got my money's worth on my Cine Fan loyalty card! 

Now, to be clear, many of those seats went to friends who came along with me to the movies. Since I was the one with the discount card, it made the most sense for me to do the purchasing. For two screenings, I didn't even wind up going at all, I simply passed the tickets off to the friends who wanted to attend.

Still, that means I made it through a whopping twenty-three movies myself, across three separate venues on Hong Kong Island and Kowloon. And I'd like to just pause for a brief moment now that things are over to record my reviews for posterity. 

The festival opened with Septet: The Story of Hong Kong, a most delicious pretext for a local movie. Seven iconic directors were each assigned a different decade and tasked with filming a short twenty-minute segment that, when all strung together, were meant to reflect the diversity, gumption and soul of this city and its inhabitants. 

While the results were, cinematically speaking, something of a mixed bag, the glamour of having five of the seven auteurs introduce the screening in person, plus the excitement of attending the opening of the festival, made for nothing short of a magical evening. 

There were several moments of pure delight, and the very best segments were truly the stuff of cinephilia, and I'll fondly recall the uproarious ending for many months to come, which put me in such an effervescent mood that I walked out of the Grand Theatre of the Hong Kong Cultural Centre practically skipping towards the Star Ferry to cross back to the Island. 

And things only got better from there. 

The next afternoon, a group of seven of us met for Minari, the Oscar-nominated story of Korean immigrants trying to successfully forge a new life in rural America. Deceptively simple and utterly unforgettable, Minari is worthy of all the praise it's received of late. With acting of the highest pedigree, plus a symbolism-rich story with autobiographical flourishes that made it clear this was a very personal work, the movie lingers now as one of the true highlights of this year's HKIFF. 

Later that night, I caught a French ski drama called Slalom at the K11 Musea, which told a disturbing story about a fifteen year old girl engaging in an emotionally-confusing affair with her much older instructor as she scales the heights of the European winter sports world. 

Both movies that day included post-screening interviews, pre-recorded via Zoom, with the film's directors. At previous festivals, a handful of screenings always featured in-person talks, but COVID forced the organizers to think a bit more outside the box this year. Let's just say, I hope that moving forward, these little segments become a permanent fixture of the event. Of course, I'll always relish the chance to see a living director in the flesh before or after a movie. Still, it will never be possible for every filmmaker to journey to Hong Kong, and this was a great way to still give the audience additional insight into the backstories of very intriguing films. 

Hong Kong classics ruled the day on Saturday, with three favorites from decades past. 

My friends Sarah and Omar joined for the first movie, Rouge, directed by this year's filmmaker in focus, Stanley Kwan. Starring two veritable local legends, Anita Mui and Leslie Cheung, the 1987 romantic drama told the story of a ghost who had died in 1934 searching for her lost love in then-current Hong Kong. 

The mysterious air that pervaded the film was compelling, and although our seats in the far reaches of the upper circle of the Cultural Centre were about as bad as could be, it was still an amazing experience. We couldn't resist a few post-movie drinks at Harbourside Grill in Harbour City to digest the disturbing implications of the story, while the three of us agreed the imagery and acting held us spellbound for the entire running time. 

Hong Kong's most internationally-renowned director has got to be the iconic Wong Kar Wai, and this year's festival included four restored versions of his most famous films. Although I missed out on snagging seats to In the Mood for Love, which I caught years ago at the Museum of the Moving Image in Queens, I did manage to get spots for the other three, which I hadn't seen before. 

And the first of the bunch wound up being the unquestionable apex of the entire festival for me: Fallen Angels. From the opening moments of a desperate-looking young woman storming through an MTR station, to the haunting final shot of two lovers cruising through a tunnel beneath the skyscrapers of Central while the Flying Pickets croon "Only You," I was truly rapt from start to finish. 

I've had some amazing moviegoing experiences over the ten festivals in which I've actively participated since my arrival in Hong Kong in 2009, but the privilege of attending this screening surely makes the short-list for all-time bests. 

Another of Wong Kar Wai's pictures, 2046, a quasi-sequel to In the Mood for Loved, dazzled us immediately after. And although the story and its fragmented telling made for a slightly confusing first viewing, I was completely won over, without a need to fully understand every aspect of the tale. This is a movie I know I'll watch and study over and over again. 

The next day was Easter, and, just like last year, I reserved a table at the Verandah at the Repulse Bay. Still, by nighttime, I was ready to re-enter the K11 to catch the Chilean documentary The Mole Agent, which was almost too delicious for words. 

The premise was as simple as it was irresistible: a dapper octogenarian accepts a job as a spy in a nursing home, to report back to a detective agency hired by another resident on whether or not there is some funny business going on in the day-to-day operations of the facility. But, through the sheer force of his charming personality, he winds up changing the lives of all the other inhabitants of the place, teaching them not to give up on life in spite of their situations, and even reminding several of the female residents that they are still capable of romantic feelings! 

Both Monday and Tuesday were public holidays here, meaning I really could indulge in my cinematic passions without having to worry about balancing work responsibilities. And the first day included an enticing idea for a double feature. 

In 1991, Stanley Kwan created a mega-biopic about the life of Chinese screen legend Ruan Linyu, who burned brightly in 1930s Shanghai before her untimely suicide at the age of thirty-four. Maggie Cheung was awarded the Best Actress award at the Berlin Film Festival that year for her sublime lead performance, and the recreation of the lost world jazz age China made for essential viewing.

But the icing on the cake, at least for me, was to immediately follow this up with a screening of Ruan Lingyu's most iconic performance, The Goddess, from only a year before her death. To juxtapose the cinematic retelling of her life alongside perhaps her greatest role was a stroke of genius on the part of the Film Festival Society. And to have Stanley Kwan appear at both screenings was also a special treat, in spite of the fact that all his commentary was conducted in Cantonese without any attempt at an English interpretation. 

Heigh ho. 

I hurriedly crossed the harbor after The Goddess, because my final screening of the night was over in Wan Chai, at the Hong Kong Arts Centre on Fenwick Street. In the tiny but immaculately proportioned Louis Koo Cinema (really more of a screening room than a movie theater), I caught a charming 1938 Japanese comedy called The Masseurs and a Woman. This rarely-scene gem told the story of two blind masseurs working at a country resort, and their gentle interactions with the rest of the guests at the inn. 

One of the best things about the festival is that it provides such incredible opportunities to see restored classics the way they were intended to be screened, with an audience on a big screen, not on a television or laptop. I'll forever take advantage of such opportunities whenever I get the chance. 

Tuesday was the first and only "four movie day" for me at this year's festival. This is the maximum number of screenings I can cram into a single day, and I'll only do it if there's no other way. But the timing was pretty perfect, with an ample stretch between each film to allow for reflection and travel to the next venue. 

The first two movies were both projected on the giant screen in the Hong Kong Cultural Centre. First up was an animated fable retracing the life of a dog as she dies, looking back on the various owners who took care of her at various stages in her life. 

It was wiggy and colorful, with such an engaging visual style that, looking back now, I'm tempted to rank it number one among the crop of new releases. (I'm pretty certain a restored classic will always take the top slot for me at any given festival.) There were moments of great humor and others of great sadness, and if you have the chance to experience this bravura example of modern filmmaking, please don't pass it up. Marona's tale is fantastic for sure, and you won't want to miss it. 

Wolfing down a speedy Rueben at the neighboring Langham Hotel, I tried my best to get in the mood for Woody Allen's newest charmer, Rifkin's Festival, one of the director's most appealing works in awhile. Set amidst the backdrop of the San Sebastian Film Festival, it tells the story of a couple who's marriage falls apart amidst a mélange of film screenings, press conferences, cocktail parties and swanky dinners, while a black-and-white series of dream sequences poke uproarious fun at some of the greatest classic films of all time, like Citizen Kane, 8 1/2, Breathless and The Seventh Seal. 

True, the three friends who attended this one with me didn't quite catch every Fellini or Bergman in-joke. But the dreamy images of gorgeous Spain, plus the star-studded international cast, made for an enjoyable, fluffy romp. 

It was fitting that the next movie of the day was a classic, You Only Live Once, directed by Fritz Lang during his time in Hollywood, and starring the luminous, legendary stars Henry Fonda and Sylvia Sidney. Truth be told, I've seen this movie before. In fact, I actually own it on DVD. But I never even considered skipping out on this screening, in spite of the fact that I'd have to cross from Kowloon to Hong Kong Island and then back again to make it happen. 

And I closed out the day with Corpus Christi, an unforgettable Polish film that was nominated for last year's Oscar for Best International Feature. Both the original idea and its execution were of a very high standard here, where a troubled youth fresh out of juvenile prison poses as a priest in a small town to avoid working in a factory. 

While not every aspect of a religious life appeals to him, he really finds a place among the townspeople, changing their lives for the better with his unconventional approach to spirituality. But when secrets from his past bubble to the surface, it becomes clear there will be no happy ending. 

It was back to the office on Wednesday after a long, lovely five day weekend, so you better believe I couldn't wait for the workday to end come 6pm. I had a quick dinner at Sexy Crab before catching an elegiac French documentary called The Last Hillbilly over at the K11. 

This was perhaps the most unconventional and surprising film of this year's bunch. Basically, a young French duo happened to befriend a quasi-philosophical hillbilly while seeking inspiration for a documentary in rural Kentucky. They spent a series of multiple months spread over many years living with him and his family, and the portrait they captured of a dying way of life was filled with wisdom, humor and joy, all tinged with a mournful quality of melancholy as the subjects seem well aware of their vanishing way of life. 

Thursday's screenings included the final Wong Kar Wai installment, Happy Together from 1997, which tells the bittersweet romance of two Hong Kong men stranded far from home when their finances fall through on a vacation in South America. Beautifully shot by Wong's stalwart cinematographer Christopher Doyle, and with captivating performances from Cannes Best Actor recipient Tony Leung and Leslie Cheung, it was another intriguing feature from Hong Kong's master director. 

Later that night, after another stop at Harbourside Grill's expansive terrace, I ventured back to the Cultural Centre for Miranda July's newest work, Kajillionaire, which had me roaring with laughter at its unconventional, awkward humor. 

The movie tells the story of a poor family who live off of the funds they raise via scams, schemes and petty crimes. They rob mailboxes for gifts they can return, take trips so that they can falsely claim for lost luggage insurance and scour trashcans for anything that could be converted into cold hard cash. 

It was a late screening that didn't begin until 10pm that evening, but I'm oh-so glad I summoned the energy to stay up for this wonderful, offbeat tale. 

I must confess, by the time I arrived at the Cultural Centre for Lan Yu, another Stanley Kwan feature, on Friday, I was a little the worse for booze. You see, my company Easter lunch had taken place earlier that afternoon, and among a pina colada, some sangria, a few double Scotches and even a glass or two of port, I was not exactly in the best condition to study the cinematic merits of the movie. 

Still, sitting in the front row of the Cultural Centre's balcony, I was at least able to savor the visual splendors of the movie. Similarly, the next screening, right on its heels, a Kazakhstan dark comedy called Yellow Cat, about an ex-con and his prostitute girlfriend who long to open a cinema in a remote corner of an already-remote country, has moments of breathtaking beauty, if the film as a whole didn't capture my imagination. 

I was back to my old self on Saturday, for another two-movie days, featuring a duo of spy-related films set far in the past.

The first was a Japanese WWII-era drama called Wife of a Spy, which told of a couple who attempt to betray their own country upon learning some dreadful secrets about the actions of their government. Although I felt the story lacked the requisite excitement to be a top-class spy drama, there were stretches of incredible poignancy, and the pitch-perfect recreation of 1940s Kobe alone was worth the price of admission. 

But it was the second film that day that almost blew me away, Roman Polanski's newest feature from France, An Officer and a Spy, which re-tells the true history of the Dreyfus Affair with an exquisite attention to detail and a bevvy of fine performances from a cast of troupers. 

A few reviews have remarked that the movie should be a textbook example of how to make a historical drama, and I can't help but agree. Polanski's assured direction, an unforgettable lead performance from Jean Dujardin, and evocative recreations of nineteenth century boudoirs, offices, courtrooms and city streets, meant the two-plus hour running time simply evaporated for me. 

As the festival neared its end, I caught a final movie in the Cultural Center on Sunday afternoon, Jean-Luc Godard's seminal Breathless, which had been memorably spoofed by Woody Allen in the same venue only a few days before. Of course, I've seen this one in the past, but never in as opulent a setting as the Grand Theatre. What can I say? Sixty years after it's release, it remains a true classic of the cinema. And I'll never refuse a chance to see it on the big screen when it comes my way. 

Monday concluded back in the K11, with that final screening I mentioned earlier of Dear Comrades! Stunningly shot in crisp black and white, with a fierce performance from its lead actress as she searches for her missing daughter after the military opens fire on protesters in post WWII Soviet Russia, the movie was an unflinching portrait of government corruption, at once a historical document of the time in which it was set yet laden with nuance and resonance for the modern world. 

As Aaron Kwok, singer, movie star and seemingly perpetual ambassador of the HKIFF appeared on screen after the movie to draw the festival to a close, I couldn't help but thank my lucky stars at having had such a full and fun experience at this year's event. While it's always a bit sad when the festival ends, I know I'll keep stellar memories of the forty-fifth Hong Kong International Film Festival for a lifetime. And you know where to find me next spring, when it returns to our city again!

Until then, that's a wrap, folks!

It Might As Well Be Spring

The Gunner Quest

The Great Chinese New Year Staycation of 2021

Today is the fifteenth and final day of Chinese New Year, Lantern Festival, and what a stretch it’s been over the past two weeks! As I probably don’t need to tell you, I didn’t add a rip-roaring international vacation to my litany of past travel adventures. I’ll have to keep coasting on memories of last year’s jaunt to Cambodia until things return to normal.  

But without much choice in the matter, for only the third time since I moved to Hong Kong in 2009, I stuck around the Pearl of the Orient for the ongoing Chinese New Year celebrations. And, well, what do you expect? It was a true bash! I spent a lot of time with friends old and new, ate a boatload of incredible food, managed to explore the great outdoors and even squeezed in a rather last-minute staycation on my favorite of the outlying islands, Cheung Chau.

As I mentioned a few moments ago, Chinese New Year is technically a fifteen-day celebration, meaning it’s still taking place. That being said, it’s really the first few days—namely the first, second and third days—that are seen as being important enough to warrant public holidays that get us a break from office life.

This year, the public holidays fell on a Friday and a Monday, meaning a nice four-day weekend for the public to soak everything up. But even before that, the city had visibly begun to prepare for the coming festivities. One of the major events leading up to any Chinese New Year is the Victoria Park Flower Market, which had to be drastically scaled back this year due to COVID, but still took place in eye-catching fashion. I popped by one Sunday evening with my friend Blueky and we made a complete circuit of the sprawling space, which was surprisingly empty yet still enjoyable endearing.

As the city got ready for the season, I decided the Blind Tiger needed some appropriate accoutrements, as well. So, one day after work, I popped into a traditional shop on Wellington Street and loaded up on traditional decorations. I spent that night festooning the rooftop, and, I must say, the end result was pretty stunning. Although I usually hang a few banners, buy a mandarin orange tree and put out a Chinese New Year welcome mat, I’ve never done anything like this to celebrate the holiday before. I expect I’ve established a new tradition, because I’ve just loved sitting on the roof watching the breeze work its magic.

But things really kicked into high gear on the Thursday right before the public holidays, which was Chinese New Year’s Eve. One of my company’s finance directors, Doug, who is normally seen dividing his year between the UK, Spain, Hong Kong, Thailand and New Zealand, has decided to wait out the end of the pandemic here, meaning we’re graced with a lot more facetime with him than we usually get. That day, he suggested to Laren and me that we take the afternoon off, indulge in a delicious yakitori lunch down the street at Yardbird, and toast to the impending arrival of the Year of the Ox (or perhaps to bid a fond farewell to the Year of the Rat) with a few post-lunch drinks. And who am I to contradict a senior director?  

Later that night, my friends Steph and Tan hosted a hot pot feast at their apartment in Happy Valley, before I returned to my own flat around 10:30pm. You may recall from my 2019 Chinese New Year staycation that the temple just adjacent to my home is host to a midnight ritual at the stroke of twelve on Chinese New Year’s Eve. So I invited Blueky and Serena over to witness the ceremony from the Blind Tiger. Unfortunately, with about half an hour to go, I had a small mishap while playing with Fredric. Sometimes our antics tend to get a bit rough, and, without realizing what he was doing, he wound up biting my lip, which lead to a nasty little cut.

Long story short—or shall I say, am ambulance ride, five stitches later—I was back at home, having missed the service. Heigh ho… Goodbye rat, hello Ox!

That next morning, Friday, Serena and I ran all over Happy Valley procuring the required ingredients for a little dumpling making party I dreamed up to celebrate the first day of the new year. My friend Ted is from a city near Harbin in northern China. He mentioned to me recently that he really was disappointed not be able to return home this year to celebrate with his family, and that he especially missed his mom’s traditionally pork and shrimp dumplings.

Without a sufficient kitchen in his own place, I suggested that we host the party at mine, so Ted duly sent me a list of all necessary items, and around 3pm the guests started to arrive. Ted taught us all how to make the dough from scratch, then how to flatten it to form the dumpling skins, next how to stuff it with the secret delectable mixture, and finally how to pinch them tightly shut.

I must say, with about thirty guests trying their hand at it, not every dumpling came out looking like a work of culinary art. But taste-wise it was another matter. Everybody seemed to love the bite-sized morsels, and although my flat was decidedly disordered in the aftermath of what turned into an all-night gathering, it was oh-so worth the clean-up.

The next day, Saturday, was a bittersweet occasion. Our good friend Kate, who quickly became an indispensable member of our circle of friends after we met at that Mid-Autumn Festival camping excursion back in October, came to the end of her semester abroad and returned home to Germany.

Long ago we hatched a plan to bid her a fond farewell at the Blind Tiger, so an intimate group gathered late that afternoon, as we lingered until she had to depart just after 10pm to head to the airport. I’m used to friends coming and going in Hong Kong, but every goodbye is still difficult. And I’m really going to miss having Kate around to motivate me to get up early and really make the most out of all this city has to offer. And I know we’ll stay friends for a long time.

Monday was the last of the public holidays, and with pitch-perfect weather, a group of my friends decided to head out on a hike. After a hearty French lunch at La Crêperie in Wan Chai, up we went over Wan Chai Gap Road, crossing Bowen Road and continuing along the Wan Chai Green Trail, eventually connecting with Stubbs Road, Black’s Link and Mount Cameron Road.

With the steep, strenuous portion of the climb now behind us, the rest of the hike was a leisurely meander through Aberdeen Country Park, with particularly photogenic visits to the Upper and Lower Aberdeen Reservoirs. I’ll forever be grateful to live in a city with such natural beauty right on our doorstep. True, there are more difficult, more stunning hikes further afield that are really worth the effort if you have time. But to have such easy access to the vast open spaces is something we all just come to take for granted after having lived here for a few months. And we should count our blessings.

Tuesday marked the return to the office, and, again, thanks to Doug, our team decided to incept what I hope will become a new annual tradition, by organizing a communal Chinese feast in nearby restaurant Moon Palace. It was great to gather together and catch up on how we’d spent the long weekend, and we even had a nice view out over Victoria Harbour from the window of our private dining room.

But perhaps the most memorable aspect of the meal to me was a display cabinet holding a full set of cups modeled on the twelve animals of the Chinese zodiac. You see, I moved to Hong Kong at the end of the last Year of the Ox, meaning that its return a few days earlier had marked the completion of my first full astrological cycle!

To have the pantheon watching over our meal added a very special atmosphere to the proceedings, and I couldn’t help but look back on all the memories of my previous Chinese New Years, both those travelling overseas and the three I’d now spent here in Hong Kong.

That same day was Mardi Gras, or Shrove Tuesday, or Pancake Day, depending on where in the world you grew up. As the last day before Ash Wednesday marking the start of Lent, many people indulge in sweets as a last hurrah, knowing they’ll forego such luxuries until Easter. I hosted a small rooftop gathering and had originally intended to make American-style pancakes to celebrate. When I realized we were out of milk—and not wanting to make another trip down the stairs—we turned to Deliveroo.

A search for “pancakes” yielded scant results, save for one Korean restaurant offering a kimchi pancake. What the heck? We decided to go for it, throwing in an order of dumplings for good measure. And although I vow to be better prepared for Pancake Day 2022, it was still a lovely evening.

My stitches came out the next morning and, I must say, I am quite impressed with how faint the scars already seem. I was quite prepared to have a gashing, obvious mark on both my upper and lower lips for a long while, but my concerns dissipated upon my first glance in the mirror upon leaving the outpatient clinic.

I squeezed in one final coffee at Happy Alley before heading to work, my last until April 4, since I perennially forego my morning java between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday. I also give up swearing, keeping a log each time I accidentally slip with each instance of foul language costing me HKD 10. (I already owe HKD 70.) And, in a major decision, I also decided to give up booze, with a caveat.

You see, the doctor put me on antibiotics after stitching my lips back together and instructed me not to consume alcohol until I’d finished the course if I wanted to heal properly. That meant that five days before Ash Wednesday, I was already not drinking, with the medication continuing several days after, too. So what I decided was that, since I had a head start, I might as well keep going. But here’s my twist: since I had that five day lead time, I am giving myself five days back between now and Easter, certainly on Saint Patrick’s Day and also on four other yet-to-be-determined occasions over the next forty some odd days.

The last major highlight of my Chinese New Year staycation was an actual staycation. Because for the first time in eleven plus years, I spent the night on my favorite of Hong Kong’s outlying islands, Cheung Chau. There’s something incredibly special about experiencing a touristy, bustling locale after the madding crowd has dispersed. So to linger on the toytown island at dinner, watching the day-trippers head back to the ferry pier, and then to experience the place under moonlight and solitude was nothing short of magical.

Equally exceptional was to awake at the crack of dawn the following morning, before the arrival of the first boat. We made a beeline for the beach, where a stunning sunrise was waiting in the wings. And after the skies brightened, we killed sometime beachcombing, picking up intriguing shells and some very attractive well-weathered sea glass.

Of course, no trip to Cheung Chau is complete without seafood, and there was plenty consumed over both days, from whole steamed local garoupa to decadent scallops steamed with minced garlic and curry fish balls to deep fried salt-and-pepper squid. So, all in all, it was a fitting addition to what has turned out to be yet another wonderful installment of my Chinese New Years!

Oh! And, by the way, dinner and movies are back on my social schedule! A little over a week ago, just after the Chinese New Year public holidays, the government deemed it safe enough to allow restaurants to remain open for dine-in service from 6pm to 10pm. They also allowed the cinemas to re-open. (I’ve had dinner in a restaurant practically every night since then, and I’ve already managed to catch three movie screenings within the span of a single week.)

So Kung Hei Fat Choi from Hong Kong, and I wish my friends far and near a happy, healthy and prosperous Year of the Ox!