In The Mood For Love 花樣年華 (2000)

Soundtrack of In The Mood For Love (花樣年華原聲帶): Yumeji’s Theme

花樣年華 (In The Mood For Love) is a 2000 Hong Kong film directed by the critically acclaimed 王家衛 (Wong Kar-wai). The film is set mainly in early 1960s Hong Kong and features beautiful, poignant scenes in sexy cinematic fashion. The film is bolstered by its impeccable attention to detail, stylistic visual imagery, brilliantly understated acting and a wonderfully haunting soundtrack paying tribute to the Chinese music of the 1960s.

The soundtrack is beautiful but startling; it is bright yet deceptively so. There is a tension surrounding the music, just like how social norms and taboos restrict and stifle the interaction of the two main characters of this film. It is one of my favourite movie soundtracks of all time, partly because it pays homage to my Chinese roots and is a fantastic representation of Asian cinema, and in particular, Hong Kong cinema.

The story starts off with a man and a woman moving in next door to each other. They are each married – we are constantly reminded of it, but do not ever get to see who their spouses are. We understand, however, that their spouses are very busy with work. Mrs Chan’s husband goes to Japan very often for work trips. Mr Chow often does not know when his wife leaves work or her entire schedule altogether.

Mr Chow and Mrs Chan first know each other in cordial terms as neighbours; their landlady is outgoing and is constantly inviting people to her house for mahjong sessions. This brings a strong contrast to the aloneness Mrs Chan and Mr Chow each face, and we peep into their inner lives and how they increasingly intersect each other.

The two are weaved together by their shared aloneness, through, ironically and perversely, a study of their spouses. One of my favourite themes is how this is brought about from their interactions over food, which is sometimes used (without admitting to themselves) as an shield to spend time together. We see it often in their encounters while Mrs Chan goes to buy food with her signature baby blue container (at the noodle stall) and in the restaurant, where they each pretend to be each other’s spouses to understand how their spouses’ extramarital affairs might have started and gone about.

One particular scene that struck me was how Mrs Chan said that she might be happier if she wasn’t married. When you’re single, you’re only responsible for yourself, once you’re married, doing well on your own is simply not good enough. One of my deepest fears is finding someone, and even while knowing that nobody can ever be perfect, settling down, and being in a state of consistent unhappiness, and leading my life in this sort of unhappiness for the rest of my life for the sake of having someone and not being alone. I do not see this happening with my parents but I also know that they are the lucky few. Will I ever be this lucky to escape the cycle of trapped unhappy marriages? I could do so well for myself, and yet, not succeed on my own terms because I am dragged down by someone else. What if I love nearly everything about my significant other except how he manages money? How much would that be a deal breaker? Exactly where do we draw the line? How much do we blame people who cheat on their significant others? How much is it unknowing, and at one instant, a sudden realisation of one’s feelings like being hit by an oncoming train? Even if you do not act on that attraction or the feelings, they stay with you, brandished in your heart, a dirty little secret.

We are always aware of their martial status through the film’s use of visual imagery and when Mr Chow begins to admit his attraction for Mrs Chan, the beautiful illusion and consistent narrative begins to come apart.

At this point we question ourselves, how much are we like Mr Chow and Mrs Chan? How much of our lives are bolstered by these illusions that we tell ourselves? What sort of relationships do we have in our lives that we tell ourselves are, but are not? What sort of narrative do we choose to lead our lives?

You see the way the narrative comes apart in the way food is presented in their relationship. For example, Mr Chow furtively brings food wrapped in brown papers to Mrs Chan when she had to hide out in the room while the landlady plays a whole night of mahjong, instead of the seamless way Mrs Chan buys her noodles in her neat baby blue container. You see it in the way Mrs Chan makes sesame paste for the whole household, but the core objective is to give some to Mr Chow. You see this in the way the rain pelters upon their shared illusions on the street, playing pretend to heal their pain.

The common argument would be that hey, they should not have allowed it to happen. They should not have stepped into each other’s lives like that. But that is speaking from a pedestal; how would you choose, if you were in the same circumstances? You see how their lives begin to derail emotionally once the illusions are broken – you see this in the way Mr Chow smokes and the way they each miss out on work to be with each other, you see this in the subtle yet increased red hues of the scenes. I love this film so much because as much as it is a solid film for plot it is as much a commentary of society and raises questions to ourselves about deception, social taboos which is not often talked about nor discussed.

At the end of the day, Mr Chow and Mrs Chan part ways and bury their secret to their graves. Mrs Chan gives birth to a child with her husband, and Mr Chow moves to Singapore. They reminisce about a forgotten time in their lives, and we see how their lives nearly intersect, but never actually do, forever. And they bury this pain and attraction to each other in their hearts. There’s the scene of Mrs Chan with her child, and another of her going back to the place where it all started, hiding back tears as she looks out the window. The scene moves to Mr Chow in Thailand, a religious place of some sort and utters his secrets into the place, covering it in mud, and leaving it there forever. THAT HURTS MY SOUL SO MUCH.

“In the old days, if someone had a secret they didn’t want to share… you know what they did?…They went up a mountain, found a tree, carved a hole in it, and whispered the secret into the hole. Then they covered it with mud. And leave the secret there forever.”

In summary, please watch this film as it is an engaging, beautiful film that will leave you with more questions and thoughts than when you first started. It is now one of my favourite movies of all time and 王家衛 is now one of my favourite directors of all time. I have the top rated films from 王家衛 in my movie watchlist. Next up – Chungking express and 2048 here I come.

dating as an adult

i just finished watching a singaporean movie called “lucky boy”, a coming of age film, and i am nostalgic for a time and space that i’ve never had.

it also triggered reflection on the pureness of non-adult romance. when life was simpler. it is you and them against the world. you didn’t have to think about whether they really fit into your life. whether you were a right fit for the long term. you didn’t have to think about things like, will i get along with their family… their friends… what is actually in their bank account… their future goals and dreams and visions… you didn’t have to think about all that. it is purely – banter. how much fun you have with the person; how much you enjoy being with them, without being clouded by anything else. there is such a thing known as casual relationships now as a flipside to long-term dating but always, it is always at the back of my mind. am i wasting my time? am i wasting their time? because to put it frankly, we’re at an age where we have to think seriously about these things if only just to be fair to the person we’re dating (or in the midst of possibly dating).

while there are many aspects of being a teenager that i absolutely don’t miss – be it the crippling insecurity or otherwise – i do miss this particular aspect of pureness where it is simply alright because you have time on your side. this is something that you can’t ever take back again, and i am glad to have had some sliver of experience. truly the saying – you only regret the things you didn’t do. of course there are people who say that these thoughts are childish or immature and yes i can perhaps agree – of course it would be more fulfilling at a point where you are actually with someone whom you can see yourself with for the long term – but that is if you are lucky enough to find someone and it is not plain and simple as getting married because reality and everyday life is truly a whole other monster .

at this point i am 2 years into the working world, it is almost 3pm and i am working from home thanks to the covid situation. i am flooded with emotions and feelings and thoughts that i have nowhere else to place.

i miss being in a romance, i miss being with someone i can talk for hours and hours and hours, i miss all of that. they say when you are young you always think that there will always be someone next, but when you are older, your frame of mind is tighter, and honestly, the people who walk into your life whom you can truly connect with, whether romantic or platonic, is few and far between. when we find them, we need to treasure them and thank them.

HarvardX: PH555x Improving Global Health: Focusing on Quality and Safety – 2 – Measurement

Variation in practitioners arriving at the right diagnosis and treatment depends on knowledge gap, know-do gap, and other factors e.g. time spent with the patient

Jishnu Das presents a very simple metric: time spent with physician: “The more time doctors spend with patients, the more things they do which they should do for that patient.”

Healthcare is unique in the sense that there can be over and undertreatment.

“Because the moment you link the treatment to a payment, you’re going to get doctors who are going to behave, who are going to treat, in a way that makes sure they get more money. They are human, and that’s one of the main lessons we keep finding.”

Social insurance schemes can generate valuable data for quality