“Days of Being Wild”: A Poetic Meditation on Identity and the Myth of Freedom
Wong Kar-wai’s Days of Being Wild (1990) is not merely a film but a hypnotic exploration of rootlessness and desire, where Andy Lau’s subtle performance anchors a fragmented narrative that redefined Hong Kong cinema. This visually intoxicating work transcends its gangster-film contemporaries to ask a haunting question: Can one truly escape the gravitational pull of their origins? For global audiences seeking cinema that marries existential philosophy with lush aesthetics, this is essential viewing.
I. The Unmoored Generation: Hong Kong’s Postcolonial Psyche
Set in 1960s Hong Kong and the Philippines, the film mirrors the city’s identity crisis during its twilight as a British colony. The characters—particularly Leslie Cheung’s narcissistic “Mickey” Yuddy and Andy Lau’s grounded policeman-turned-sailor Tide—embody conflicting responses to displacement .
Key cultural subtexts often missed by Western viewers:
- The “Noon Nightclub” scenes: Neon-lit spaces where characters dance to Latin music reflect Hong Kong’s hybrid identity—Chinese traditions cloaked in Westernized veneers .
- The “one-minute” monologue: Yuddy’s seductive line “Because of this minute, I’ll always remember you” encapsulates the transient relationships of a society in flux .
- The mythical “legless bird”: Wong’s metaphor for Hong Kong itself—a place caught between colonial history and an uncertain future, perpetually flying without landing .
II. Andy Lau’s Quiet Revolution: The Power of Restraint
While Leslie Cheung’s flamboyant Yuddy dominates the screen, Andy Lau’s Tide represents the film’s moral and emotional backbone. His performance is a masterclass in understatement:
- Physicality: Compare Tide’s stiff police uniform in early scenes to his loosened shirts in later Philippine sequences—a visual arc from rigidity to reluctant acceptance of life’s chaos.
- Silent Witness: As the only character who interacts with all protagonists, Tide’s restrained reactions (a raised eyebrow, a hesitant pause) mirror the audience’s role as observers of existential folly .
- The Final Boat Scene: Lau’s wordless departure to sea—shot in misty blue tones—becomes a poetic resignation to life’s unanswered questions .
III. Wong Kar-wai’s Visual Alchemy: Time as a Character
Cinematographer Christopher Doyle’s collaboration with Wong (their first of many) creates a dreamscape where time distorts and memories blur:
| Technique | Symbolic Meaning |
|---|---|
| Green-tinted interiors | Emotional claustrophobia |
| Slow-motion rain | Suspended moments of decision |
| Mirrors and reflections | Fractured identities |
| Recurring clock imagery | The tyranny of passing time |
The iconic train sequence in the Philippines—with its rhythmic clatter and shadowplay—transforms a chase scene into a metaphysical journey .
IV. Women as Architects of Memory
The female characters—Maggie Cheung’s timid Su Lizhen and Carina Lau’s vivacious Leung Fung-ying—subvert traditional “gangster’s moll” tropes:
- Su Lizhen’s Transformation: Her shift from Yuddy’s victim to a woman who “decides to forget” (via obsessive clock-watching) critiques patriarchal narratives of passive femininity .
- Leung Fung-ying’s Defiance: Her bold red dresses and unapologetic sexuality contrast with Hong Kong’s conservative 1960s norms, foreshadowing the city’s coming sexual revolution.
- The Unseen Mother: Yuddy’s absent biological mother and adoptive mother (a Shanghainese cabaret owner) symbolize Hong Kong’s dual colonial/”motherland” tensions .
V. Why International Audiences Should Care
- Existential Universality: Yuddy’s search for belonging resonates with modern diaspora experiences—from Brexit Britain to third-culture millennials.
- Narrative Innovation: The film’s non-linear structure and unresolved subplots (like Tony Leung’s mysterious final scene) predate postmodern Western classics like Pulp Fiction.
- Cultural Preservation: It archives vanishing aspects of old Hong Kong—Cantonese opera halls, handwritten letters, and the “Nanyang” (Southeast Asian) migrant experience .
A telling detail: The characters’ mix of Cantonese, Shanghainese, and Tagalog dialogue mirrors Hong Kong’s multicultural reality—a stark contrast to today’s homogenizing forces .
VI. Legacy: The Film That Redefined Asian Cinema
Though initially a box office failure, Days of Being Wild laid the groundwork for Wong’s later masterpieces like In the Mood for Love. Its influences ripple through:
- Global Auteurs: From Sofia Coppola’s color palettes to Barry Jenkins’ use of silence .
- Hong Kong’s Identity Discourse: Re-released during the 2019 protests, it became a touchstone for youth grappling with belonging.
- Andy Lau’s Career: This role marked his transition from teen idol to serious actor, paving the way for Infernal Affairs .
The film’s closing line—“I used to think there was a kind of bird that, from birth, could fly forever without landing”—haunts our current era of perpetual motion and fragmented identities .
Final Verdict: A Mirror for the Disconnected Age
-Days of Being Wild* is not entertainment but an experience—a smoky jazz ballad about the price of freedom and the ghosts that trail our choices. For Western viewers raised on Hollywood’s three-act structures, this offers something rarer: cinema as philosophy, where every raindrop and cigarette glow whispers existential truth.
-Where to Watch*: Stream with English subtitles on Criterion Channel or Asian cinema platforms. Pair it with Jean-Luc Godard’s *Breathless* for a fascinating East-West dialogue on rebellion.
This review synthesizes cultural analysis , performance studies , and thematic exploration , offering fresh perspectives while guiding international viewers through the film’s historical and artistic significance.