Title: “Tony Leung’s ‘Operation Fox Hunt’: A Gritty Dance Between Justice and Moral Ambiguity”
When Tony Leung Chiu-wai’s name arises in global cinema discussions, audiences often recall his melancholic romanticism in In the Mood for Love or his brooding intensity in Infernal Affairs. Yet, his 2021 crime thriller Operation Fox Hunt (猎狐行动) offers a stark departure—a raw, unflinching portrayal of cross-border justice that deserves a spotlight in his illustrious career. Directed by Herman Yau and co-starring Duan Yihong, this film transcends the typical “cop vs. criminal” narrative, weaving a complex tale of obsession, moral decay, and the human cost of economic crime. For international viewers unfamiliar with China’s real-life “Fox Hunt” anti-corruption campaign, this film serves as both a gripping thriller and a cultural primer. Here’s why it demands attention.
- A Real-Life Saga: The Global Pursuit of Economic Fugitives
-Operation Fox Hunt* is rooted in China’s 2014 initiative to repatriate corrupt officials and economic criminals hiding overseas—a campaign that has captured global headlines. The film’s protagonist, Captain He (Duan Yihong), embodies the relentless determination of these operations. His target? Dai Yichen (Tony Leung), a charismatic financial mastermind who has evaded justice for years while laundering billions through offshore networks.
What elevates the story is its refusal to paint characters in black-and-white. Dai is no cartoonish villain; he’s a man of refined tastes and calculated charm, hosting lavish art auctions while orchestrating his empire. Leung’s performance captures this duality—a man who quotes Nietzsche to justify his crimes yet harbors a quiet desperation. Meanwhile, Captain He’s obsession with capturing Dai blurs ethical lines, forcing viewers to question whether the pursuit of justice justifies personal sacrifice.
- Tony Leung’s Antihero: A Masterclass in Nuanced Villainy
Leung’s portrayal of Dai Yichen is a revelation. Unlike his iconic tragic heroes, here he crafts a villain who seduces both the camera and his victims. Watch him in a Parisian café, sipping espresso while casually ordering a hit—his calm demeanor contrasting with the brutality of his actions. Director Herman Yau reveals that Leung improvised key scenes, such as flicking a cigar into a snowbank during an interrogation, a gesture that underscores Dai’s contempt for authority.
Critics might compare Dai to Leung’s Lust, Caution antagonist Mr. Yee, but the similarities end at their suits. Dai is a product of globalization—a polyglot who exploits legal loopholes across continents. His backstory, hinted at through fragmented flashbacks, suggests a fall from academic idealism to cynical pragmatism. In one haunting monologue, Dai muses: “Money isn’t dirty. It’s the hands that chase it that stain the soul.” Leung delivers these lines with a weariness that humanizes the monster.
- The Cat-and-Mouse Dynamic: Leung vs. Duan Yihong
The film’s spine is the psychological duel between Dai and Captain He. Duan Yihong, a powerhouse of Chinese cinema, matches Leung’s intensity. Captain He isn’t a stereotypical hero; his marriage crumbles under the weight of his mission, and his tactics often skirt legality. In a standout sequence, he confronts Dai in a Macau casino, their dialogue crackling with subtext:
-“You think you’re chasing me? No. You’re chasing your own shadow,”* Dai taunts.
-“Shadows vanish in light,”* He retorts, tightening the noose.
Their clashes unfold across global locales—from neon-lit Hong Kong to desolate Siberian outposts—each setting mirroring their moral landscapes. Cinematographer Anthony Pun contrasts the opulence of Dai’s world (gilded penthouse parties, private jets) with the gritty realism of He’s hunt (rain-soaked stakeouts, cluttered Interpol offices). This visual dichotomy reinforces the film’s central theme: the illusion of escape in a hyper-connected world.
- Cultural Context: A Mirror to Modern China’s Global Ambitions
For Western audiences, Operation Fox Hunt offers more than thrills—it’s a lens into China’s evolving role on the world stage. The real-life campaign reflects the government’s determination to assert legal sovereignty beyond its borders, a narrative intertwined with national pride. Yet, the film doesn’t shy from critiquing systemic flaws. A subplot involving a corrupted banker’s suicide hints at the human toll of unchecked greed, while a scene of Chinese and French agents clashing over jurisdiction underscores the complexities of international law.
Leung’s Dai embodies this ambiguity. He’s both a predator and a byproduct of a system that glorifies wealth—a theme resonating globally in the post-2008 financial era. When he sneers, “You call me a criminal? I’m just better at the game,” it’s a rebuke of capitalist excess that transcends cultural boundaries.
- Technical Craft: Gritty Realism Meets Arthouse Flair
Yau’s direction balances procedural realism with moments of poetic abstraction. A chase through Moscow’s subway tunnels is shot like a fever dream, with handheld cameras and disorienting angles echoing the characters’ desperation. Meanwhile, composer Kenji Kawai’s score blends traditional guqin melodies with electronic pulses, mirroring the clash between tradition and modernity.
The film’s authenticity stems from meticulous research. Actors trained with real “Fox Hunt” officers, and scenes were shot in actual Interpol collaboration hubs. This grounding elevates the stakes, making Dai’s eventual capture (or escape—no spoilers here) feel earned rather than contrived.
Conclusion: Why Operation Fox Hunt Matters Beyond Borders
In an era where crime thrillers often prioritize spectacle over substance, Operation Fox Hunt stands apart. It’s a film about the cost of obsession—for both hunter and hunted. Tony Leung, in a career-defining performance, reminds us why he’s a titan of acting: he makes us empathize with a man we should despise.
For international viewers, the film is more than a thriller—it’s a bridge to understanding China’s socio-political fabric and a testament to the universality of moral conflict. As Dai Yichen quips in the film’s closing moments: “There are no borders in sin.” Neither, this movie argues, are there borders in compelling cinema.