阿郎的故事

Chow’s fate is determined as much by chance as by any action of his own. There’s always a sense of randomness in To’s tragedies, a kind of contingency that denies any simple moral reading.

After an auspicious, if commercially unsuccessful, debut with the New Wave wuxiaThe Enigmatic Case in 1980, To spent the early 80s working in Hong Kong television. In 1986 he returned to film working under Raymond Wong Bak-ming at the Cinema City studio, he he made the popular, if not especially distinguished comediesHappy Ghost 3 andSeven Years Itch. These were followed in 1988 by a pair of films, the smash hit farceThe Eighth Happiness and the contemporary crime pictureThe Big Heat. He followed that up in 1989 withAll About Ah-Long,a domestic melodrama that becamethe number one film of the year at the Hong Kong box office, the second year in a row a To film had accomplished that feat.The film reunited To withEighth Happiness star Chow Yun-fat andSeven Years Itchstar Sylvia Chang. Like all of To’s previous four films it was produced by Raymond Wong for Cinema City, but it is a much more dramatically ambitious work. Cinema City at their best was a freewheeling, anarchic studio where anything was possible. The loose atmosphere was responsible for some of the greatest films of the decade (in Hong Kong or otherwise), but also a whole lot of just bizarrely silly nonsense (the Yuen-Woo-ping directedMismatched Couples, for example, in which Yuen tried to make Donnie Yen a star with a breakdancing comedy).The Eighth Happinessexemplified the lunatic side of the studio, an improvisational, tasteless and often hilarious comedy that helped establish the template for a certain type of all-star Lunar New Year comedy (a tradition that continues to this day).

All About Ah-Long, though, is a real movie. Written by stars Chow and Chang (an unusual credit for Chow (his only other story credit is on the 1995 Wai Ka-fai film Peace Hotel), while Chang had already begun the move from movie and pop star to accomplished writer/director), it takes Oscar winnerKramer vs. Kramer as a starting point. Chow plays a construction worker raising his ten year old son, Porky. A former motorcycle racer and drunk, Chow is loud and crude but cares deeply for his kid. When his friend Ng Man-tat (in one of his early dramatic roles, before he became Stephen Chow’s favorite comic foil) gets Porky an audition for a kids’ fashion commercial, they discover that the commercial’s director is Chang, the boy’s mother, returned from America for the first time in a decade. Brief flashbacks fill out the story (Chow was philanderingand abusive and ended up briefly in jail after a motorcycle accident; Chang’s mother hated him and told Chang her son had died after she moved with her to the US), while Chang tries to build a relationship with her son and Chow tries to rekindle his romance with Chang.

It’s an against-type performance from Chow, as arguably the coolest man in cinema in the late-80s dresses down with patched-together clothes and a hideous mop of hair. He’s a deeply flawed man who is completely aware of his faults. Chang is the class opposite: intelligent and reserved, she is the wealth of America, trying to win Porky’s affection with all the things and opportunities she can muster. This is one of the things that distinguishesAh-Long from its American progenitor: whileKramer vs. Kramer paints a complicated picture of 1970s feminism (the breakdown of the home as the wife seeks a life in the workforce),Ah-Longis moreof a class allegory. There’s no expectation that Chang should abandoned her career to be Chow’s housewife, such a thing is unthinkable. However there’s a deep undercurrent of unease with Chang’s cosmopolitan wealth. Both parents want Porky to have all the advantages wealth can confer (education, nutrition, culture, adventure), but there’s an inauthenticity to her world. The film opens with shots of Hong Kong streets, notably not the skyscrapers and businessmen and other conspicuous symbols of the capitalist paradise that was the colony in the late 1980s, but rather of narrow, crowded alleys, packed with shops and debris. It isn’t the gangland slum of the Kowloon Walled City that Johnnie To grew up in, instead it’s a less hyperbolic, more imaginable kind of everyday poverty. Throughout, To will contrast realist images of working class Hong Kong with the glossier sheen of its upper class, mixing aclass-conscious New Wave aesthetic with the pop song montages ofcommercial cinema. When Porky first visits his mother in her hotel (the “Oriental”) he gazes in wonder at the shiny white surfaces, and especially the glass elevator rising infinitely upward at the lobby’s core. Elevators will become a recurring image and location throughout To’s career, a symbol of fear, of entrapment, of the unknown. The image is built upon in a later section ofAh-Long, when Porky and Chang goes to an amusement park and she can’t handle the vertiginous ups and downs of the rides. Porky loves it of course, ping-ponging between highs and lows, but Chang needs to stay on one level: she can’t go back down.

In many ways, Johnnie To’s most recent film is a kind of spiritual sequel toAll About Ah-Long. Reunited with Chow and Chang for the first time in over 20 years, and adapting a play written by Chang,Office is about a pair of young office workers who learn that life at the top of the corporate elevator is more corrupt than they could imagine. Chow and Chang play the oldest couple, the company’s CEO and Owner, long engaged in an amoral struggle for power over each other. A middle couple forms the heart of the film, played by Tang Wei and Eason Chan: Chan is already corrupted, Tang is on her way there. The two share a duet (the film is a musical, with songs by Lo Ta-yu, who also did the music forAll About Ah-Long) where they sing of their hometowns, paradises where there was no ambition. All the corruption of the corporate world is the result of aspiration, of the drive to rise up, to bend and break the rules of conscience in the name of things. Chan is haunted by a recurring nightmare of an elevator: not of falling down an empty shaft, but pointedly being crushed on the ground floor. Porky inAh-Long watches with hope as an elevator rises, Chan cowers in fear as one falls.

I can’t write aboutAll About Ah-Long without addressing it’s ending, so here’s where you can check out if you haven’t seen the film and care about spoilers. Unless I can track down a copy of his two-part TV movieThe Iron Butterfly, the next film in the series with be a New Years comedy reunion with Chow and Chang,The Fun, The Luck and the Tycoon, to be followed by To’s first collaboration with screenwriter Wai-Ka-fai,TheStory of My Son.

Like many a Hong Kong film,All About Ah-Long has a doubleending. David Bordwell writes about the end of the 1987 Chow Yun-fat melodramaAn Autumn’s Tale (directed by Mabel Cheung), where the romantic couple separates at the end, with Chow’s deadbeat failing to win the more upwardly-mobile woman. This is followed by a brief epilogue, set sometime in the future, where the lovers meet again with Chow having miraculously cleaned up his act and become a financial success. Bordwell notes that the multiple, tonally opposite endings work to give the audience a range of ways to react to the film: they get both the happy and tragic endings and therefore a more total experience of melodrama.All About Ah-Long takes the experience to another, emotionally pummeling, level. After a long decline into sadness, where Porky leaves with Chang (with Chow delivering a heart-breakingHarry and the Hendersonsdriving-the-boy-away scene),and then changes his mind and returns to his dad. Chow then decides to race again and gets a haircut and a motorcycle. Father and son head to the Macao Grand Prix, where Chang shows up just as the race is about to start: the family at last will be reunited, with a newly cleaned-up Chow finally worthy of being a husband and father. He races, he’s about to win, and then he crashes. But he gets back on his bike (because that’s what we do), despitea significant head injury (a chance blow from another motorcycle). Summoning all his strength, with intercut shots of his wildly supportivefamily, Chow comes back and wins the race. Porky and Chang leap with joy as Chow, in excruciating slow motion, loses control of his bike and crashes into a wall. He watches his family rush toward him as the motorcycle explodes and he is engulfed in flames. The credits roll over documentary-style slo-mo footage of the wreckage, the horror in the crowd, the anguished faces of mother and son. It’s an astonishing, flabbergasting ending. Such a finale would be unthinkable in a Hollywood movie (can you imagine a film with equivalent-level stars, say Leonardo DiCaprio and Charlize Theron, where the family is just about to get back together but instead Leo dies right at the end? There would be riots in the streets.)

This ending is vital for To’s idea of the film, the sharp, unexpected swerve into tragedy is something he’ll return to again and again in his career. In his interview with Stephen Teo, he says thatAll About Ah-Long was “the first film in which I could line everything up in one go; as the film that was made really from my own thoughts. I am grateful to Chow Yun-fat, who gave me many of his own insights, and also to Sylvia Chang, who actually wrote the treatment and was involved in the production, She disagreed with my ending but I told her I was making the film because of the ending. It may be flawed but I insisted upon it.” The ending is crushing not so much because of its shockingness, although that is certainly a factor, but also because the happier ending that preceded it made so much sense: everything about the surface of the film tells us that this is the kind of movie that will end happily, the two beautiful stars will get back together and their family will be whole. But the ending brings out the darkness, the fear and paranoia that underlies so many of the preceding images, the class contrasts, the vertiginous heights and grimy lows of pre-Handover Hong Kong.The Big Heat too is motivated by an apocalyptic fear of the Handover, as Britain and China agreed that the colony would be handed back to the Mainland, the child’s fate determined by the whims of its parent nations. This strain of paranoia is so present in the Hong Kong cinema of the period that it’s become a critical cliche to remark upon it, like the Cold War dread of 1950s American sci-fi films. Butthere’s an even deeper,more universal fearinAll About Ah-Long, where the paranoia is motivated by diaspora, the promise of wonder in life outside China, but is rooted in a more basic class anxiety: the fear that moving up means becoming inauthentic.

For To and Chow, who grew up relatively impoverished and were now at the pinnacle of their professions, that must have been a very real concern. Chang had a different childhood, born in Taiwan she also spent time in Hong Kong and New York growing up, before dropping out of school to pursue singing and acting at age 16. The film is thus a recreation of the real-life dynamics between the two male auteurs and the female one. It has been pointed out that contrary to expectations in this melodrama the male character is far more emotionally expressive than the female one, with Chow giving a loud, dynamic performance where Chang is cool and internalized (there is a lifelong relationship in a nutshell in a simple eyeroll Chang gives as she sits on the back of Chow’s moped). This is less agender matter though than a class one I think: Chow’s manners are boorish where Chang is refined. The tension between the three artists is vital to the push-pull nature of the melodrama: neither parent is demonized or lionized as the film goes on, both characters are warm and loving to their son, both are full of regrets for their actions a decade earlier (though Chow has more to regret), both want to be forgiving to each other, both know that that is impossible. But ultimately it’s To’s vision that wins out, and it’s a deeply pessimistic one: Ah-Long, a poor but happy man for the first time in his life aspiring to greatness, seeing his dream within reach and then literally exploding. It isn’t a tragic ending, in the sense that it is totally unpredictable: Chow’s fate is determined as much by chance as by any action of his own. There’s always a sense of randomness in To’s tragedies, a kind of contingency that denies any simplemoral reading. Just as inOffice,aspiration ultimately leads to self-destruction, but that destruction can manifest itself in wildly unexpected ways. This black strain, the doom of a universe governed by fate that operates through chance, will surface again and again through To’s career, mixed as it is with farces and romances and stories of brotherhood, moments of liberation and freedom and darkest despair.All About Ah-Long, his first truly great film,is the first to fully express this multiplicity of moods.

黄坤玄在《阿郎的故事》里的表演是童星的范本。很多童星只是自持靓和可爱，完全谈不上什么表演。加之成年人写的剧本，行为举止皆是成年角度，让小孩装大人，不是智商欠奉就是非常油条。这部戏里若没有黄坤玄的波仔，周润发的父亲形象也得打一半折扣。波仔正是有点懂，又有点贪玩，又嫌老土又对母亲有向往，还不明白父母的感情多么复杂，写得好也演得好。

吴孟达饰演的角色很重要，波波刚开始以为波仔是他的儿子，吴孟达的表情埋了个伏笔，让后面办公室一场的尴尬水到渠成。而波波的未婚夫的角色就很工具化。

每场戏几乎都有情绪的起伏和反复。波波对阿郎的冷淡，怨恨，但两人一说起儿子又有联结的亲密，阿郎说告诉儿子妈妈已经死了，张艾嘉垂下捻动吸管的手胜过所有语言，对这个男人又气又失望又没办法又可怜他处境。

阿郎是一个曾经挥霍青春的小混混，人到中年陷入一无所有得过且过的窘境，教导儿子上强词夺理，儿子长大之后难保不会看他不起。但若不是周润发怕是演不出这么丰富的层次——骂着脏话，要借钱给烂赌的同事，自己又自由散漫，打儿子又要说对不起，但不懂如何好好道歉，在无力受挫之后靠暴力宣泄。现在莫说找不到周润发这样的演员，剧本都写不出这么层次分明自圆其说的角色，经常是一个扁平的角色靠消耗演员昔日的形象来强行完成角色。

父子情有时更夺人热泪，我们的社会默认男性不具备照顾子女的能力，以及这不是他“分内”的事，所以“特别不容易”。类似题材还有《带子洪郎》，父爱的诠释都是搏命赚钱，也代表无产者突围的一种生勇。而《爱的世界》里的父子是从中产堕入困顿，父亲被不断践踏，最终走向毁灭，更像是恐怖片。

小混混和富家女的故事也是老港片的套路了，婚姻是女性阶级跃升的手段，小混混终究走向毁灭。阿郎的故事可算是天若有情的后续。主流价值观总是希望男女主能破镜重圆，而现实世界却往往过去之心不可得，因此人到中年的阿郎还是要再毁灭一次。多少是受困于中国人太热衷于团圆的形式，希望将来有真正“一国两制”“高度自治”的亲密关系。

时代大不同。现在多半不会信服一个飙车坐牢的小混混能和职业的赛车手同台竞技。《飞驰人生》都得是有污点的前赛车手逆袭，不会是裸露的古典人性对抗高科技车队。韩寒曾写过一篇文章说不要拿自己的业余爱好试图去挑战以此为生的职业人士（虽然他拍电影的这份爱好一上来已经超出不少职人，可见此行业混乱），而在本片所描绘的那个年代，是不少业余爱好者靠勇在往专业化转型的黄金时代，电影电视行业也是如此——规则尚未明确，大批新人涌入，边做边学，时代处在上升阶段，阶层的流动也是可能——地盘工人攒攒钱也有是机会买楼的。

说起这个就不得不提两部根据hk网文改编的短片，一是《公屋·居屋·私楼》，一是其后续《世伯后传》，后传里世伯自陈是给《阿郎的故事》周润发做翻车替身从此落下残疾的那代人，恰恰可以看做是阿郎如果活下去，晚年的境况——沉默的男人。

这个片子前前后后看了将近有五六遍，在结尾【你的样子】前奏响起来的时候还是会忍不住的微微发抖，继而泪流满面。 记忆中，在“电影院”看的第一场电影，就是《阿郎的故事》。那会儿我很小，大概五六岁，大叔从深圳回家，带我去我们那里的老剧院看晚场电影，黑漆漆的环境里，我不停的问大叔问题，电影结束的时候大叔问我看懂了么，我迷迷糊糊的早已经眼睛都睁不开了，还记得我很响亮的跟大叔说，发仔好帅啊。大叔抱着我笑了一路。 初中暑假的一个中午，我妈做饭的途中就扑哧扑哧的笑了好几声，忍不住在吃饭的时候问她为什么。她讲她前天晚上看了个电影，非常好看，里面有个情节特别有趣。一个妈妈和儿子多年未见，带儿子去吃法国菜，儿子喊爸爸也去，爸爸到了看不懂菜单，告诉服务员说和儿子要一样的东西，结果服务员上菜的时候说，“两份儿童套餐”。我还记得我妈讲着讲着笑出眼泪的样子。 读大学的时候，班上有个玩音乐的男生，沉默寡言，非常有个性，有一节电影鉴赏课，我们看《Kramer vs. Kramer》，电影播完的时候班上有几个姑娘都眼睛红红的，这时有人低声说了句那个男生在哭，大家回头发现他简直是在无声的嚎啕。那个场面对大家都非常震撼。后来他做presentation，说自己最喜欢的电影是《阿郎的故事》，老师问为什么，他沉默了很久回答“About Father”。 断断续续的在电影频道看过几次，今天逛完街回到家，翻pptv的电影栏突然看到这个，于是抱腿坐在床上看完全片。带着强制自己不许哭的心理暗示，熟悉的剧情分分钟过去，还是在熟悉的前奏响起来时眼泪止不住。我看的电影不多，也没学过什么理论，无法用术语去分析一部电影怎么好为什么好好的点在哪里，但是打动人心就一定是好的这种说法我永远都赞同。 每个爸爸都是独一无二的。