Title: Lam Ching-ying’s Pom Pom (1984): A Whirlwind of Chaos and Charm in Hong Kong’s Golden Age of Comedy
For Western audiences seeking a gateway into the anarchic humor and kinetic energy of 1980s Hong Kong cinema, Pom Pom (released internationally as The Return of Pom Pom or 神勇双响炮) is an exhilarating entry point. While Lam Ching-ying is best known globally for his stern Daoist priest roles in supernatural classics like Mr. Vampire, his brief but memorable appearance in this film—alongside comedy legends like Richard Ng and John Sham—exemplifies the collaborative spirit and genre-blurring creativity of the era. Directed by Philip Chan and produced by Sammo Hung, Pom Pom is far more than a slapstick cop comedy; it is a cultural time capsule that fuses social satire, martial arts bravado, and a celebration of human resilience. Below, we unpack why this film deserves international rediscovery.
- The Comic Duo: Richard Ng and John Sham as the Anti-Heroic “Double Dragons”
At its core, Pom Pom revolves around two bumbling anti-crime unit officers, Ah Chau (Richard Ng) and Beethoven (John Sham), whose incompetence is matched only by their unwitting luck. Unlike the suave detectives of Hollywood’s Lethal Weapon or Bad Boys, these protagonists are gloriously flawed: Ah Chau’s comically oversized ego clashes with Beethoven’s childlike naivety, creating a dynamic reminiscent of Laurel and Hardy but infused with Cantonese wit.
Their investigation into crime lord Ha Zheng-yi (Chen Lung) serves as a narrative scaffold for absurd set pieces. In one scene, the duo disguises themselves as sanitation workers to infiltrate a triad gathering, only to trigger a chaotic brawl involving flying brooms and misplaced dignity. Such sequences highlight Hong Kong cinema’s knack for elevating physical comedy into art—a tradition rooted in Peking opera’s exaggerated gestures and Jackie Chan’s “painful” stunts.
- Lam Ching-ying’s Understated Authority in a World of Chaos
Though Lam Ching-ying’s role as Inspector Lo Kin (credited as “Flying Spider”) is brief, his presence anchors the film’s tonal balance. Known for his stoic demeanor in horror films, Lam here plays a no-nonsense police veteran who contrasts sharply with the protagonists’ antics. In a pivotal scene, he dismantles a hostage situation with icy precision, showcasing the martial arts rigor that made him a legend. This duality—Lam’s gravitas versus the leads’ buffoonery—mirrors Hong Kong’s own identity crisis in the 1980s: a society oscillating between colonial order and anarchic reinvention.
Critics often overlook Lam’s versatility beyond ghost-hunting roles. His cameo here, though small, bridges the gap between the supernatural and the terrestrial, reminding viewers that his legacy extends far beyond hopping vampires.
- Sammo Hung’s Vision: Blurring Genres and Star Power
As producer and uncredited choreographer, Sammo Hung imbues Pom Pom with the DNA of his iconic Lucky Stars series. The film features cameos from A-list stars like Jackie Chan (as a traffic cop) and Yuen Biao, whose split-second appearances amplify its meta-textual playfulness. A standout sequence involves a high-rise chase where Beethoven accidentally knocks a henchman out a window—a gag later echoed in Hung’s Wheels on Meals.
Hung’s genius lies in his ability to weave slapstick with social commentary. The protagonists’ futile attempts to expose Ha’s corruption mirror Hong Kong’s real-life struggles with triad influence and bureaucratic inertia during the pre-handover era. Even the film’s title, Pom Pom (slang for “firecrackers”), symbolizes both explosive action and the fleeting nature of justice in a capitalist maze.
- Gender Dynamics: Subverting the “Damsel in Distress” Trope
While many 1980s Hong Kong films relegated women to decorative roles, Pom Pom offers nuanced female characters. Deanie Ip’s Anna, the sharp-tongued police secretary, repeatedly outsmarts Ah Chau’s chauvinistic advances, delivering withering comebacks that predate #MeToo-era empowerment. Similarly, Ha’s mistresses—often portrayed as mere plot devices—harbor agency, using their wit to manipulate patriarchal systems.
The film’s feminist undertones culminate in a subplot where Ah Chau’s girlfriend, Mui (played by Cherie Chung), rescues the duo using her legal acumen. This reversal of gender roles, rare for its time, positions Pom Pom as a stealthy critique of machismo in both crime fiction and society.
- Cultural Legacy: Bridging East and West
-Pom Pom*’s influence ripples through modern cinema. Edgar Wright’s *Hot Fuzz* (2007) owes a debt to its buddy-cop irreverence, while the Rush Hour franchise channels its East-West cultural collisions. Yet, the film remains distinctly Hong Kongese in its pacing—a frenetic blend of Cantonese wordplay, sight gags, and abrupt tonal shifts that defy Western three-act structures.
For international viewers, the film also demystifies Hong Kong’s colonial hybridity. Scenes juxtapose neon-lit skyscrapers with cramped tenements, reflecting a city torn between British modernity and Chinese tradition. Even the protagonists’ hybrid nicknames (“Ah Chau” is a Cantonese diminutive; “Beethoven” nods to Western high culture) symbolize this duality.
Why Pom Pom Resonates Today
- Timeless Themes: Corruption, loyalty, and the absurdity of bureaucracy remain globally relevant.
- Aesthetic Innovation: The film’s chaotic energy prefigures the ADHD-editing of modern blockbusters like Everything Everywhere All at Once.
- Nostalgia with Edge: Unlike sanitized reboots, Pom Pom retains the gritty charm of 35mm filmstock and practical effects.
- Lam Ching-ying’s Enduring Appeal: His cameo serves as a bridge between Hong Kong’s horror and comedy genres, enriching both.
Conclusion: A Carnival of Chaos Worth Revisiting
-Pom Pom* is not merely a comedy—it’s a riotous ode to imperfection. In Ah Chau and Beethoven, we see ourselves: flawed, persistent, and occasionally heroic despite our blunders. Lam Ching-ying’s stoic presence, meanwhile, reminds us that even in a world of chaos, integrity endures.
For Western audiences, the film offers a portal to Hong Kong’s golden age, where stars like Sammo Hung and Jackie Chan were redefining action comedy, and where laughter served as both escape and rebellion. As Lam’s Inspector Lo Kin might say, “Justice is messy, but someone’s got to clean it up—preferably with a broom.”