64 years ago today, a one-of-a-kind film artist was born. Christopher Doyle, originally from Australia but wholeheartedly belonging to his adoptive Asian culture of Hong Kong and Taiwan, is one of the greatest living cinematographers working today. He’s also the first DP to come to mind if you’re ever thinking about having a drink with one, a plaudit he’d probably hold in higher regard than any praise of cinematic artistry laid on him. He has one of the most eclectic CVs of any cinematographer working today (can Emmanuel Lubezki boast that he was a cow herder, oil driller and doctor of medicine before picking up a camera? Don’t think so) and if you were to discuss where he gets his inspiration from, cinema isn’t even on the list. Dance, theatre, literature, “Francis Bacon talking about the bars that he likes,” engaging and breaking up with beautiful women; all of these come before any direct cinematic influence for the genuine maverick and notorious wild card that is Chris Doyle. Breaking technical rules, using mistakes to his advantage, and proudly preserving his reputation as “the fucking Keith Richards of cinematography,” Doyle’s images in the blistering Asian cinema of the nineties and early aughts helped redefine Eastern cinematic culture and language. His trophy case boasts awards from Cannes, Venice, AFI, loads of Golden Horse and Hong Kong Film Awards, but, insanely enough, he’s never even been nominated for an Oscar. Although, considering his thoughts on American cinema and the Hollywood system, he’s probably doesn’t give two shits about that.
Doyle is, of course, most famous for his collaborations with Hong Kong auteur and directing legend Wong Kar-Wai. I’m not sure if any cinematographer was as instrumental in creating a director’s reputation and name as Doyle was for Wong. Their seven collaborations (together with Wong’s long-time production designer, William Chang), offer some of the most vivid, immediate, energetic, inventive and groundbreaking cinematic experiences in contemporary cinema – most notable for bringing the neon world of Hong Kong to colorful and visually jaw-dropping life. Seeing himself more as a collaborator than a cinematographer, Doyle’s images are suffused with symbolic visuals and a sensitive engagement with the actors; so many of his shots bottling the essence of the film’s themes, messages, and emotions.
To celebrate the work of an unpretentious genius and one of the most unique eyes of cinema, I’ve hand-picked 10 shots from Doyle’s Chinese and Hong Kong oeuvre, sticking to his most popular and artistically creative years. Take “best” with a grain of salt (and some lemon and tequila since we’re celebrating), since there are dozens of other films Doyle has worked on before and after Wong Kar-Wai, and outside of his sandbox in Hong Kong, which offer an array of dazzling and inventive techniques. Beauty is also in the eye of the beholder, etc.
For reasons explained below, these 10 shots define Chris Doyle’s commandeering art for me. Oh, and in case you’re wondering; for the purposes of this article, a shot is any uncut take as seen in the finished film.
SPOILER NOTE: There are some upcoming spoilers for the films “Hero,” “Dumplings” “Temptress Moon” and “2046.”
Late Night Chat – “Days of Being Wild” (1991)
The first of seven films Wong Kar-Wai and Chris Doyle made together, “Days of Being Wild” is also the first in the loose trilogy that follows the fates of Maggie Cheung‘s Su Li-zhen and Tony Leung‘s Chow. For this shot, Su feels jilted from the pangs of first love after realizing that the man she fell for, Yuddy (Leslie Cheung), is no longer a part of her life. She meets a kind-hearted and soft-spoken security guard (Andy Lau) who comforts her by listening and sharing his own story. They take a late night stroll by the streetcar tracks, the wet concrete glistening after the rain and the film’s most predominant colour — green, here lit up by the railway signals — bouncing off in a way that foreshadows one of Doyle and Wong’s trademarks: the urban jungle. It’s a reverse tracking shot, (smooth on a dolly, unlike Doyle’s upcoming handheld tracking shots that have a rougher, but more intimate, effect), that lasts almost a full minute and a half. Already finding a way of capturing Su Li-zhen’s incandescent characteristics, Doyle’s camera positions itself as a gentle observer, green wilderness taking a backseat to an incredibly sincere and authentic moment between two souls. We’re also witnessing the early origins of Cheung’s iconic wistfulness through the film’s thoughtful introduction of one of the most poignant characters in modern cinema. Lights from the off-screen traffic and streetcars at times eclipse the actors in total darkness, and at others illuminate them in bright white light, almost as if orchestrated by the ebbs and flows of personal sadness and regret in the conversation.
