Why Women (1985) Is a Forgotten Masterpiece of Hong Kong’s Feminist Cinema
As an English-language blogger passionate about unearthing overlooked cinematic treasures, I’m thrilled to spotlight Women (女人心), a 1985 Hong Kong drama directed by Stanley Kwan and starring Chow Yun-fat, Cherie Chung, and Miu Kiu-wai. Often overshadowed by Chow’s gangster epics or romantic classics like An Autumn’s Tale, this film is a raw, introspective exploration of marriage, female solidarity, and societal hypocrisy in 1980s Hong Kong. Below, I’ll unpack its layered storytelling, groundbreaking performances, and why it remains a bold critique of patriarchal norms.
- A Plot That Shatters Romanticized Notions of Marriage
-Women* centers on the crumbling marriage of Ho Tai-Wai (Chow Yun-fat) and Leung Bo-Yee (Miu Kiu-wai), a couple married for eight years with a young son. When Tai-Wai’s affair with a vivacious nightclub singer, Sa-Niu (Cherie Chung), comes to light, Bo-Yee files for divorce and joins a “Single Women’s Club”—a group of divorced or widowed women navigating societal ostracization. What begins as a story of liberation, however, morphs into a nuanced study of emotional dependency.
The film’s brilliance lies in its refusal to simplify morality. Tai-Wai, though flawed, isn’t a caricatured villain. His regret and attempts to reconcile with Bo-Yee reveal the fragility of male ego trapped between desire and guilt. Meanwhile, Bo-Yee’s journey—from a scorned wife to a woman tentatively reclaiming her identity—is fraught with contradictions. The club’s members, despite their camaraderie, remain tethered to societal judgments, exposing the limits of “independence” in a male-dominated world.
- Chow Yun-fat: Subverting the Leading Man Archetype
Chow Yun-fat, then transitioning from TV heartthrob to film star, delivers a career-defining performance. Unlike his later roles as charismatic heroes, Tai-Wai is a man paralyzed by his own weaknesses. His affair with Sa-Niu isn’t driven by passion but by a midlife crisis, mirroring the disillusionment of Hong Kong’s upwardly mobile class in the 1980s . Chow’s portrayal of Tai-Wai’s vulnerability—such as his tearful plea for forgiveness—challenges the era’s hypermasculine ideals.
His chemistry with Cherie Chung is electric yet unsettling. Sa-Niu, far from a homewrecker stereotype, is a woman weaponizing her sexuality to survive in a world that offers her few options. Their scenes oscillate between sensuality and desperation, reflecting the transactional nature of relationships in a capitalist society.
- Miu Kiu-wai and the Silent Strength of the “Scorned Woman”
Miu Kiu-wai’s Bo-Yee is the film’s emotional anchor. Her transformation—from a submissive wife to a woman grappling with newfound freedom—is rendered with aching subtlety. In one pivotal scene, she attends a party at the Single Women’s Club, dancing wildly to mask her loneliness. The camera lingers on her forced smile, symbolizing the performative nature of female empowerment in a patriarchal society.
The club itself serves as a microcosm of 1980s Hong Kong’s gender politics. While the women bond over shared trauma, their interactions are laced with jealousy and competition, critiquing the myth of universal sisterhood. Bo-Yee’s eventual return to Tai-Wai isn’t framed as defeat but as a pragmatic choice, highlighting the limited agency of women in a system stacked against them.
- Stanley Kwan’s Feminist Lens and Visual Poetry
Stanley Kwan, making his directorial debut, employs a restrained yet evocative style. Long takes and muted colors dominate scenes of domestic tension, contrasting with the neon-lit chaos of Sa-Niu’s nightlife. The film’s most haunting sequence—a silent argument between Tai-Wai and Bo-Yee, their son playing obliviously in the background—uses empty space to amplify emotional distance.
Kwan’s collaboration with cinematographer Peter Pau (later an Oscar winner for Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon) creates a visual language steeped in melancholy. Close-ups of hands—Bo-Yee nervously clutching divorce papers, Sa-Niu adjusting her stockings—symbolize the corporeal toll of societal expectations.
- Cultural Context: Hong Kong’s Identity Crisis in the 1980s
Released two years before the Handover agreement, Women subtly critiques Hong Kong’s existential anxieties. Tai-Wai’s infidelity mirrors the city’s fraught relationship with its colonial past and uncertain future. The Single Women’s Club, with its mix of Western feminism and traditional Chinese values, embodies the cultural hybridity of the era.
The film also critiques capitalism’s erosion of familial bonds. Tai-Wai’s corporate job, which demands long hours and social drinking, becomes a metaphor for Hong Kong’s relentless pursuit of economic growth at the expense of human connection.
- Legacy and Modern Relevance
Though overlooked at its release, Women has gained recognition as a proto-feminist classic. Its unflinching portrayal of marital discord predates Hollywood’s Revolutionary Road by decades. The film’s ambiguous ending—where Bo-Yee and Tai-Wai reunite but remain emotionally adrift—resonates in today’s debates about marriage equality and emotional labor.
For Western audiences, Women offers a gateway to Hong Kong’s “Second Wave” cinema, where directors like Stanley Kwan and Ann Hui used personal stories to interrogate broader social issues. It’s also a testament to Chow Yun-fat’s versatility, proving he could anchor intimate dramas as powerfully as action spectacles.
Conclusion: A Film That Demands Emotional Courage
-Women* isn’t a comfortable watch, but its discomfort is its strength. It refuses to offer easy answers, instead inviting viewers to confront the messy realities of love, betrayal, and societal pressure. For foreign audiences, it’s a window into 1980s Hong Kong’s cultural psyche and a reminder of cinema’s power to challenge norms.
If you’re weary of sanitized romances, let Women remind you why Hong Kong cinema remains unmatched in its emotional honesty and complexity.