Title: A Better Tomorrow II (1987): Chow Yun-fat’s Symphony of Brotherhood and the Reinvention of Heroic Bloodshed
Few sequels dare to transcend their predecessors, but A Better Tomorrow II (英雄本色2), directed by John Woo and co-scripted by Tsui Hark, achieves this with audacious flair. Starring Chow Yun-fat, this 1987 Hong Kong classic is not merely a continuation of its iconic predecessor but a bold reimagining of loyalty, sacrifice, and the cost of redemption. For global audiences unfamiliar with the golden age of Hong Kong cinema, A Better Tomorrow II offers a visceral gateway into a world where bullets dance like poetry and brotherhood defies moral binaries. Let’s delve into why this film remains a cornerstone of action cinema and a testament to Chow Yun-fat’s magnetic legacy.
- A Narrative of Dualities: Brotherhood Betrayed and Reforged
The sequel pivots on two interconnected arcs: the fall of crime lord Lung Sei (Dean Shek) and the resurrection of Chow Yun-fat’s character, Ken “Ah” Gor—a spiritual successor to the beloved Mark Gor from the first film. When Lung Sei, a retired shipyard magnate, is betrayed by his protégé Ko Ying-pui (played with chilling menace by Lung Fong), he flees to New York, descending into madness after witnessing his daughter’s murder. Meanwhile, ex-gangster Sung Tse-ho (Ti Lung) and his cop brother Tse-kit (Leslie Cheung) infiltrate Ko’s criminal empire, blurring the lines between duty and vengeance.
Chow Yun-fat’s Ken Gor—a New York restaurateur and Mark Gor’s twin brother—emerges as the film’s beating heart. Unlike his brother’s flamboyant bravado, Ken embodies a weary pragmatism, yet his loyalty to Lung Sei reignites the series’ thematic core: honor among outcasts. The narrative’s genius lies in its refusal to simplify morality. Ko’s betrayal isn’t just personal; it reflects Hong Kong’s own identity crisis during the 1980s, a city grappling with colonial transition and capitalist excess.
- Chow Yun-fat: The Antihero as Everyman
Chow’s portrayal of Ken Gor is a masterclass in understated charisma. Gone are the trench coats and dollar-lit cigarettes of Mark Gor; instead, Chow dons a leather jacket and a resigned smile, channeling a man burdened by loss yet unbroken by it. His chemistry with Dean Shek’s shattered Lung Sei is electric—a relationship built on silent understanding rather than dialogue. In one haunting scene, Ken spoon-feeds the catatonic Lung Sei, his eyes conveying a mix of pity and resolve.
Chow’s physicality also shines. The film’s climax, a blood-soaked siege in Ko’s mansion, sees Ken wielding dual pistols with balletic precision, a homage to his brother’s iconic style yet distinct in its raw desperation. Critics often overlook Ken’s vulnerability, but it’s this humanity—his reluctance to re-enter the fray—that makes his final stand unforgettable.
- John Woo and Tsui Hark: A Clash of Visions, A Fusion of Genius
-A Better Tomorrow II* is a fascinating study in creative tension. Woo, the poet of bullet-riddled catharsis, clashed with producer Tsui Hark’s commercial instincts, resulting in a film that oscillates between operatic tragedy and over-the-top spectacle. Yet this friction birthed cinematic alchemy. The action sequences—choreographed by Ching Siu-tung—escalate the original’s intensity, trading intimate shootouts for apocalyptic chaos.
The New York sequences, though criticized for their melodrama, serve a deeper purpose. Lung Sei’s mental breakdown against graffiti-strewn alleys mirrors the disintegration of traditional Triad codes, while Ken’s diner—a sanctuary of neon and nostalgia—becomes a metaphor for diasporic displacement. Even the film’s much-mocked “madness” subplot, where Lung Sei hallucinates his daughter’s ghost, underscores the cost of unchecked ambition.
- Themes Beyond Bloodshed: Honor in a World Without Heroes
The film’s English title, A Better Tomorrow II, feels almost ironic. Unlike the first film’s cautious optimism, the sequel embraces nihilism. Ko Ying-pui’s rise—aided by corporate greed and political apathy—reflects Hong Kong’s own anxieties about post-colonial uncertainty. The true villains here aren’t just gangsters but systemic corruption, a theme that resonates globally in an age of corporate malfeasance.
Yet within this bleakness, Woo plants seeds of hope. The bond between Ken, Lung Sei, and the Sung brothers transcends blood—a found family forged in fire. Their final assault on Ko’s fortress, armed with shotguns and Molotov cocktails, isn’t just about revenge; it’s a defiant roar against erasure. As Ken mutters before the battle: “We’re not heroes… but we’re still breathing.”
- Cultural Impact: From Hong Kong to Hollywood
-A Better Tomorrow II* redefined action cinema’s grammar. Its “bullet ballet” aesthetics—slow-motion dives, dual-wielding pistols, and rain-soaked showdowns—directly inspired Quentin Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs and the John Wick franchise. Chow’s Ken Gor, though less iconic than Mark Gor, became a template for the “reluctant warrior” archetype seen in Keanu Reeves’ later roles.
The film also marked a turning point for Hong Kong cinema. Its box office success (grossing HK$22.7 million in 1987) proved that local stories could rival Hollywood spectacles. Moreover, Leslie Cheung’s portrayal of Tse-kit—a cop torn between justice and family—earned him a Best Actor nomination at the Hong Kong Film Awards, cementing the film’s artistic credibility.
- Why A Better Tomorrow II Matters Today
For modern viewers, the film’s flaws—uneven pacing, excessive melodrama—are outweighed by its audacity. In an era of sanitized CGI battles, A Better Tomorrow II’s practical effects (real explosions, zero green screens) and unflinching violence feel refreshingly tactile. Chow Yun-fat’s performance, too, is a reminder of pre-digital star power—actors who relied on presence, not pixels.
Beyond entertainment, the film invites reflection on loyalty in a fractured world. As global audiences grapple with political polarization and moral ambiguity, Ken Gor’s code—“You don’t betray brothers, even if the world does”—feels radical, almost revolutionary.
Conclusion: A Requiem for the Damned
-A Better Tomorrow II* is not a perfect film. Its narrative sprawl and tonal shifts alienated some critics, yet these “flaws” encapsulate its essence: chaotic, unapologetic, and achingly human. Chow Yun-fat’s Ken Gor—a man who chooses hope amid ruin—embodies the film’s soul.
As the credits roll on the candlelit carnage, viewers are left with a paradox: in a world where heroes are obsolete, it’s the broken, the vengeful, and the loyal who light the way. For foreign audiences seeking more than escapism, A Better Tomorrow II is a mirror—and a challenge.