Title: Lam Ching-ying in The Return of Pom Pom (1984): A Subversive Comedy Bridging Absurdity and Social Commentary in Hong Kong Cinema
For international audiences seeking an entry point into the vibrant chaos of 1980s Hong Kong cinema, The Return of Pom Pom (双龙出海), also known as The Two Dragons, offers a riotous blend of slapstick humor, buddy-cop dynamics, and subtle social critique. While Lam Ching-ying is globally celebrated for his stern Daoist priest roles in zombie classics like Mr. Vampire (1985), this 1984 film reveals his versatility as a character actor, playing the cunning antagonist “Flying Centipede” in a narrative that subverts traditional hero tropes. Below, we explore why this underappreciated gem deserves reevaluation as both a cultural artifact and a precursor to modern action-comedies.
- The Plot: Absurdity as a Veil for Moral Complexity
-The Return of Pom Pom* follows bumbling detectives Ng Ah-Chiu (Wu Hui-Kwan) and Beethoven (Chun Kin-Fun), whose slapstick antics mask a surprisingly layered exploration of loyalty and corruption. Transferred to the tyrannical Superintendent Tin’s unit after a wedding mishap, the duo stumbles into a conspiracy involving their former superior, Superintendent Chan, framed by Lam Ching-ying’s villainous “Flying Centipede”.
Unlike Lam’s typical righteous roles, Flying Centipede embodies moral ambiguity. His vendetta against Chan stems from a decades-old grudge, blurring lines between justice and revenge. The film’s climax—where Lam’s character orchestrates a fake car accident to steal evidence—reflects Hong Kong’s anxiety about institutional decay during the pre-handover era. This narrative choice transforms a seemingly frivolous comedy into a commentary on cyclical violence within power structures.
- Lam Ching-ying’s Antagonist: A Departure from the “Daoist Hero” Trope
Lam’s casting as Flying Centipede is a masterstroke of subversion. Known for his stoic, almost paternal roles, here he channels menace through calculated restraint. His performance avoids cartoonish villainy; instead, he exudes quiet intimidation, particularly in scenes where he manipulates Chan’s downfall with bureaucratic precision.
This role highlights Lam’s range beyond supernatural films. Flying Centipede’s reliance on wit rather than martial arts (a rarity in Lam’s filmography) mirrors Hong Kong’s shifting crime landscape in the 1980s—where intellectual corruption outpaced physical brutality. Lam’s cold stare and deliberate speech patterns create a villain who feels eerily plausible, a far cry from the flamboyant mob bosses common in contemporaneous cinema.
- Comedy as Social Satire: Class Struggles and Gender Dynamics
Beneath its absurd surface, the film critiques 1980s Hong Kong’s materialism and gender inequality. Subplots like a gambler attempting to sell his wife (a young Hui Ying-Hung) into prostitution are played for laughs but underscore systemic misogyny. Similarly, Superintendent Tin’s comically exaggerated tyranny—forcing detectives to perform menial tasks like snake-catching—parodies colonial-era authoritarianism.
The comedy also deconstructs masculinity. Beethoven’s romantic pursuit of Hui’s character, a martial artist, inverts traditional gender roles. Their relationship, fraught with misunderstandings, satirizes male fragility—a theme rarely explored in action-centric Hong Kong cinema.
- Aesthetic Hybridity: Peking Opera Meets Police Procedural
Director Chan Yan-Hing merges Peking opera’s theatricality with gritty urban aesthetics. Fight scenes, choreographed by Lam Ching-ying’s frequent collaborator Chin Yuet-Sang, blend acrobatic kicks with prop-based humor (e.g., using wedding decorations as weapons). This juxtaposition mirrors Hong Kong’s identity crisis—caught between traditional Chinese values and Western modernity.
The film’s visual contrasts are equally striking: neon-lit nightclubs clash with dilapidated tenements, symbolizing the city’s economic disparities. Even Lam’s costume—a tailored suit paired with a traditional centipede motif—embodies this duality.
- Legacy and Relevance: Proto-Buddy Cop Tropes
-The Return of Pom Pom* predates Hollywood’s Lethal Weapon (1987) by three years, yet it establishes key buddy-cop tropes: the mismatched duo, comedic interrogation scenes, and redemption through chaos. However, its distinctly local flavor—such as feng shui-based plot devices—offers a fresh perspective for Western viewers.
Lam’s antagonist also influenced later Hong Kong cinema. Characters like Tony Leung’s cold-blooded hitman in Hard Boiled (1992) echo Flying Centipede’s cerebral menace, proving Lam’s impact transcended genre boundaries.
Why International Audiences Should Watch
- Cultural Hybridity: The film bridges Cantonese humor and universal themes of justice, making it accessible yet deeply rooted in Hong Kong’s identity.
- Lam Ching-ying’s Range: A rare chance to see the “Daoist Master” as a nuanced villain.
- Historical Context: Reflects 1980s Hong Kong’s social tensions through satire.
- Genre Innovation: Pioneered buddy-cop dynamics before Hollywood popularized them.
- Visual Creativity: A time capsule of Hong Kong’s neon-drenched urban landscape.
Conclusion: Beyond the Laughter
-The Return of Pom Pom* is more than a slapstick relic—it’s a mirror held up to Hong Kong’s colonial-era contradictions. Lam Ching-ying’s Flying Centipede represents the moral gray zones that defined the city’s transition into modernity. For Western audiences, the film offers not just laughs but a gateway to understanding Hong Kong’s cinematic and societal evolution.
In an era where global cinema often prioritizes spectacle over substance, this 1984 classic reminds us that comedy can be both uproarious and intellectually daring. As Lam’s character ultimately learns, vengeance perpetuates cycles of ruin—a lesson as relevant today as it was in the shadow of 1997.