Title: The Big Score (1988): Chow Yun-fat and Ti Lung’s Moral Tango in 義膽紅唇
In the golden age of Hong Kong cinema, where bullet-riddled narratives and brooding antiheroes reigned supreme, The Big Score (義膽紅唇, 1988) stands as an underappreciated gem that defies simplistic genre labels. Directed by Sun Chung, this film pairs Chow Yun-fat and Ti Lung—fresh off their iconic collaboration in A Better Tomorrow (1986)—in a gripping tale of loyalty, betrayal, and the blurred line between justice and vengeance. For Western audiences seeking a window into the moral complexity of 1980s Hong Kong action cinema, The Big Score offers not just explosive thrills but a philosophical inquiry into what it means to wear a badge—or a criminal’s mask.
- A Brotherhood Torn by Duty and Revenge
At its core, The Big Score is a story of two cops navigating a world where the law often fails to deliver righteousness. Chow Yun-fat plays Lee Chi-chiu, a smooth-talking police negotiator who believes in de-escalation and diplomacy. Ti Lung stars as Inspector Chow Keung, his hot-headed partner who advocates for ruthless efficiency against crime. When a drug lord, Yao Tat (played by Shek Sau), is released from prison and begins systematically eliminating those who put him behind bars—including Keung’s former partner—the duo’s contrasting ideologies collide.
The film’s brilliance lies in its inversion of expectations. Unlike the clear-cut heroes of Hollywood cop dramas, Lee and Chow are flawed, emotionally scarred men. Lee, despite his pacifist ideals, falls for Yao’s lover, Penny (Tien Niu), while Chow’s obsession with vengeance endangers his family. Their partnership fractures under the weight of moral compromise, culminating in a climactic showdown where bullets and allegiances fly in equal measure
- Chow Yun-fat: The Charismatic Mediator in a World of Chaos
Chow Yun-fat’s Lee Chi-chiu is a departure from his earlier roles as trench-coated gangsters. Here, he embodies a man caught between empathy and duty. With his disarming smile and tailored suits, Lee exudes a cosmopolitan charm reminiscent of Cary Grant, yet his eyes betray a quiet desperation. In one pivotal scene, Lee negotiates with a suicidal man on a rooftop—a moment that showcases Chow’s ability to balance vulnerability and authority.
Western audiences might recognize parallels to Al Pacino’s nuanced cops in Serpico or Heat, but Chow’s performance is distinctly Hong Kong. His Lee is not a whistleblower but a pragmatist, navigating a corrupt system where “justice” often requires bending rules. This role solidified Chow’s versatility, proving he could anchor films without relying on gunplay or gangster tropes
- Ti Lung’s Tragic Crusader: A Study in Obsession
Ti Lung, best known for his noble swordsman roles in Shaw Brothers films, delivers a career-redefining performance as Inspector Chow Keung. Unlike his stoic hero in A Better Tomorrow, Chow Keung is a volatile force of nature—a cop whose trauma transforms him into a mirror image of the criminals he hunts.
Director Sun Chung frames Ti’s descent into madness with haunting precision. In one sequence, Chow Keung interrogates a suspect by dangling him over a rooftop, his face contorted with rage. It’s a far cry from the romanticized violence of John Woo’s films; here, brutality is ugly, personal, and self-destructive. Ti’s chemistry with Chow Yun-fat crackles with unresolved tension, evoking classics like Training Day but with a uniquely Cantonese grit
- Sun Chung’s Gritty Realism vs. Hong Kong’s Glamorous Excess
While John Woo and Tsui Hark dominated the late ’80s with stylized gunfights and operatic melodrama, Sun Chung’s direction in The Big Score leans into raw, documentary-like realism. The film’s action sequences—choreographed without wirework or slow-motion—prioritize visceral impact over spectacle. A standout moment sees Chow Keung battling Yao’s henchmen in a cramped apartment, the camera shaking as fists and furniture shatter.
This grounded approach extends to the film’s portrayal of Hong Kong itself. Unlike the neon-soaked nightclubs of Chungking Express, the city here is grimy and claustrophobic, its alleyways echoing with the ghosts of broken promises. Cinematographer Wong Wing-hung (a frequent collaborator with Ann Hui) uses natural lighting and handheld shots to create a sense of immediacy, immersing viewers in the characters’ moral quagmire
- Themes of Moral Relativism and Institutional Failure
-The Big Score* resonates deeply in today’s era of ACAB movements and debates over police reform. The film interrogates the hypocrisy of a justice system that protects criminals with connections while abandoning its own enforcers. Yao Tat, the villain, operates with impunity precisely because he understands the bureaucracy’s weaknesses—a critique of Hong Kong’s colonial-era corruption.
Lee and Chow’s arcs reflect this institutional rot. Lee’s romantic entanglement with Penny—a woman tied to the underworld—symbolizes the impossibility of remaining morally clean in a polluted system. Meanwhile, Chow’s transformation from lawman to vigilante asks a haunting question: When the state fails, is extralegal violence the only path to justice?—
- Legacy and Relevance for Modern Audiences
Though overshadowed by A Better Tomorrow and The Killer, The Big Score remains a vital artifact of Hong Kong’s cinematic evolution. Its influence can be traced in the morally ambiguous cops of Infernal Affairs (2002) and the gritty realism of Drug War (2012). For Western viewers, the film dismantles stereotypes of “Eastern exoticism,” offering instead a universal story about the cost of principle in a compromised world.
Chow and Ti’s performances also challenge the dominance of Hollywood’s action stars. Unlike Stallone or Schwarzenegger, their heroism lies in vulnerability, not invincibility. When Lee finally draws his gun in the climax, it’s not a moment of triumph but tragic necessity—a nuance rarely seen in 1980s action cinema
Conclusion: Why The Big Score Demands Rediscovery
In an era of algorithm-driven blockbusters, The Big Score reminds us that action films can be both intellectually stimulating and emotionally devastating. Its refusal to sanitize violence or romanticize heroism makes it a bold counterpoint to today’s superhero fatigue.
For foreign audiences, the film is more than a crime thriller—it’s a portal into a Hong Kong that no longer exists, where every bullet fired carried the weight of identity, colonialism, and existential doubt. As Lee and Chow face off against Yao’s syndicate, their struggle mirrors the city’s own reckoning with its future under impending political shifts.
So, dim the lights, cue the haunting synth score, and let The Big Score pull you into its labyrinth of duty and despair. In Chow Yun-fat’s weary smile and Ti Lung’s fractured resolve, you’ll find not just entertainment, but a mirror to our own fractured world.