This is my very first writing on this blog, so I wanted to make it more special.
Some movies make you think—tickling your brain long after the credits roll.
Some movies make you feel—feel the emotions you didn’t even know existed.
Some movies make you laugh, giving you joy while watching, yet leaving you empty afterward.
Maybe there is a reason why Chungking Express is my favorite movie—why it kept me awake at night, why it never left my mind. Personally, I couldn’t find one. Yet, for me, Chungking Express is simply what I call perfect.
The film begins with a mysterious woman in a blonde wig entering an apartment. She is the love interest of our first story.
Next, we meet a man—Cop 223—running through the city. We soon learn that he has recently broken up with his girlfriend, May. She left him on April 1st, April Fool’s Day, and he keeps hoping it was all a joke.
Since his birthday is on May 1st, he promises himself he’ll wait until that day before letting her go.
To mark the days, he buys cans of pineapple that expire on May 1st—because May loved pineapple. But May doesn’t return.
“In May’s eyes, I’m no different from a can of pineapple.”
He decides to go to a bar and tells himself he’ll fall in love with the first woman who walks in, and that woman turns out to be the mysterious lady in the blonde wig.
The effect of this story is undeniable: the feeling of being left behind, of being “betrayed” by someone you thought would stay by your side. Yet, May is not to blame, nor is Cop 223.
But we’re not here to blame anyone. We’re not here to understand completely. We’re here to feel.
This doesn’t necessarily have to be about a partner, a romantic relationship, or a breakup. It’s about the universal feeling of letting go, accepting it, and living with it. And when we talk about emotions in this movie, one feeling always weighs the heaviest: loneliness.
Loneliness is not just a random detail in this story—it is the very essence of it.
Without a doubt, the most memorable aspect of this movie is its visual storytelling. Wong Kar-Wai, the director, is known for painting his films with unforgettable colors.
For the first story, the palette is melancholic. The hues are heavy, as if carrying the sorrow of the characters themselves. They don’t just decorate the film—they embody its soul.
Dark blues, neon greens, smoky orange tones. Rain-soaked streets. Dim lights flickering in the night.
Everything is designed to make you feel lonely.
Plus, pineapple happens to be my favorite fruit—maybe that’s another reason why I take this movie a little too personally, haha.
“If memories could be canned, would they have expiry dates?”
And with that, let’s move on to the second story.
One thing I absolutely love about this movie is the “transition” between the two stories. Cop 223 bumps into a girl who has just started working at the same night restaurant where May once worked. This girl is Faye—one of the central characters of the second story.
“That was the closest we’d ever been. There was only 0.01 centimetres between us. I didn’t know anything about her. But six hours later, she fell in love with another man.”
In the second part of the film, we witness Faye falling in love for the very first time—with another man. That man is another cop, Cop 663. He works night shifts, not far from the late-night restaurant where Faye spends her time. Getting his meals there has clearly become his routine.
When he first meets Faye, there’s loud music playing on the tape recorder—California Dreamin’.
“Do you like loud music?”
“Yes. The louder the better. Keeps me from thinking.”
The story is essentially about these two—getting to know each other, and in the process, getting to know themselves. For both of them, this is a whole new experience. Cop 663 is
learning how to love again after his breakup with a flight attendant, while Faye is discovering love for the very first time. She doesn’t quite know what to do, or even how to feel.
Months later, Faye leaves for another country to chase her dream of going to California. A year later, she returns—not just as a traveler, but as a flight attendant herself, constantly seeing new places. When she revisits the night restaurant, she hears California Dreamin’ again—only this time, she finds Cop 663 running the place.
What follows is a brief conversation, yet one of the most meaningful exchanges I’ve ever seen in cinema. It’s hard to capture its depth in words—you truly need to experience the entire film to understand.
They talk about the time that has passed, and Faye mentions her flight the next morning. When Cop 663 asks to fly with her, she turns the question back to him:
“Where do you want to go?”
“Doesn’t matter. Wherever you want to take me.”
I’ve skipped many details to keep this writing short, but this is the essence of the story. And no matter how much I write, nothing could ever match the experience of watching this film for the first time.
Personally, I love this story even more—maybe because California Dreamin’ is one of my favorite songs, or maybe because I feel so similar to Faye. I actually cried at the ending—not because it was sad, but because it was so hauntingly beautiful.
The second story’s colors are brighter and happier. The characters were lonely once, but now they have found each other.
One thing I find especially interesting is that the film was shot without a scenario or a script. The cast and crew weren’t even allowed to film in many locations, so they mostly shot at night. They couldn’t wear police uniforms in public either, which meant they had to be very careful while filming. Cop 663’s apartment in the film was actually the cinematographer’s real house. The messy, crowded interior added so much personality to the movie.
This film is not just a story but a feeling—something that stays with me long after the credits roll. It’s messy, beautiful, and full of life, just like the people in it. Maybe that’s why it feels so unforgettable.
This might sound cliché, but that’s exactly what I love: this film has personality.
This film is different.
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