Neon Pleasures – “Fallen Angels” (1995)
Moaning with pleasure, with back-up vocals courtesy of Laurie Anderson‘s sexy psycho-punk ballad ‘Speak My Language,’ a woman in fishnet stockings and a black leather dress masturbates on the bed. Doyle’s wide angle lensing and compositions, the neon-lit shady streets of Hong Kong after dark, and the assassin’s narrow apartment that we keep coming back to gives “Fallen Angels” a sexy, sleazy, and lurid varnish. Lasting well over a full minute, this single take is the camera at its most perverse, and the single greatest symbolic representation of the film’s intense effect on the viewer. By turning us into voyeurs and creeps who lurk behind beds and watch with some excitement (Doyle’s handheld motions see to that) as a sexy assassin contractor (Michele Reis) pleasures herself, Doyle and Wong turn the audience on by turning the image into something to fetishize over. I seriously doubt that a homosexual man or a heterosexual woman watching this scene could deny the lasciviousness that drips from every corner of the frame. Of course, as with every brilliant Doyle shot, this particular one serves multiple purposes. Doyle’s use of deep focus ensures that the green clock in the background dominates part of the frame, reminding us of one of Wong’s most re-occurring symbols (to quote the man himself: “all of Wong Kar-wai‘s films are pretty much about time”). A little later in the film, a near-identical angle sees the same woman sprawled out on the same bed, making similar motions. This time, when the camera cuts to her face we see that she’s crying, making the effect all the more powerfully because of our association with this earlier scene. Pleasure and pain, color and sex, music and mood; all are fused together through Doyle’s brilliantly angled hand-held shot.
It’s Too Late – “Temptress Moon” (1996)
Legend has it that Chris Doyle drank a bottle and a half of whiskey a day during the shoot of “Temptress Moon,” Chen Kaige‘s period piece. Seeing how fast and loose the camera moves within the film’s gorgeous golden complexions, there is a definite feeling of unhinged liberty at play, as if Doyle really is under some toxic influence. The result is a whirl of sumptuously contrasted shadow and light with Doyle’s camera at its most balletic; so visually striking is the picture, in fact, that the aesthetics dominate over plot, which Kaige purposefully made opaque and not unlike the construction of a dream. The overexposed lighting creates a sort of veil through which the engrossing tracking shots are allowed to breathe, and none are quite as effective as the one that captures the climactic farewell between the doomed central lovers Ruyi (Gong Li) and Zhongliang (Leslie Cheung). Lasting a full 3 minutes, the camera starts with Zhongliang’s desperate pleas for Ruyi to reconsider her decision to marry someone else. But it’s too late. Pulling backwards, pushing forwards, shaking as if scared in a moment of duress, the camera chooses to stick by Ruyi’s side and her defiant convictions. As she slowly walks away from the crushed Zhongliang, deflated Chinese lanterns from bygone times decorating the background, the sun dances on her face – at one point making her tear glisten, diamond-like. Gong Li’s performance is remarkable; her sigh that signals the end of the shot lingers, echoes and cuts our hearts in the deep dead center. It’s a genius shot; using motion and light to epitomize the essence of the film in 3 minutes while giving the two central characters a glorious send-off. If there was ever a case to be made for drinking on the job…
The Tango – “Happy Together” (1997)
Wong’s “Happy Together” is the same story him and Doyle have been creating throughout their time together, a story about love, loss, looking back and moving on. This time it’s depicted through a same-sex relationship and the emotionally charged connection between two lovers: Ho (Leslie Cheung) and Lai (Tony Leung). They’re in Argentina, trying to rekindle their relationship, and this particular scene – which, unsurprisingly, produced the most prominent marketing image for the film – sees them reunited after the umpteenth break-up, with Ho teaching Lai the tango. Lai thinks he finally got his footing, and after a gorgeous shot of some debris and unfinished construction work under an overcast sky, we get this minute-long handheld shot of the two of them dancing in the kitchen. Bathed in sunlight as they frolic more than tango, the two lovers can’t keep their hands off each other and we, in turn, can’t keep our eyes off of them. The shadows created by the most ordinary objects (a pot, a pan, and a kettle) add to the exotic mystic, as we bear witness to the peak of a passionate love story. Doyle’s insistence of operating the camera himself places emphasis on the “witnessing” aspect of the shot, as his slight motions and variations seem to make the camera dance along with the characters, the way your feet involuntarily tap to the beat of a song you love. Astor Piazzolla‘s accordion tango is the mood-enhancer, Leung and Cheung exude the chemistry, but what drapes this moment in nostalgia and turns their love into a chimera, is all Doyle.
