HAPPY TOGETHER (1997), dir. Wong Kar-Wai

The Heart Has Its Reasons / “Starting Over Again” with Wong Kar-Wai

The setting is Argentina, birthplace of the tango. We get to hear some of that music in the background of various scenes.

I cannot say whether the two relationships at the heart of "Happy Together" are tangos in themselves. After all, it seems like the tango can be a metaphor for anything nowadays. If it implies an irresistable attraction, which we are helpless to fight off, though we know it will lead to disaster, Lai Yiu-Fai (Tony Leung Chiu-Wai) and Ho Wo-Ping (Leslie Cheung) are definitely dancing a tango. Likewise, if it means finding comfort in the presence of a kindred spirit, Yiu-Fai and his young friend Chang (Chang Chen) are tango-bound.

Though Argentina is a sunny country, "Happy Together" is, for the most part, not a sunny picture. Lai Yiu-Fai’s relationship with Ho Wo-Ping gets the majority of screen time, but theirs is a most turbulent affair. As Yiu-Fai’s voiceover tells us, they have known each other for a long time. But within that span, they have butt heads, broken up, and gotten back together, too often to keep count. Wo-Ping is usually the one who does the dumping. He is also the one who crawls back, and asks to start the relationship over again. Yiu-Fai always takes Wo-Ping back, thus perpetuating their vicious cycle. "Happy Together" observes a stretch of their on-again/off-again relationship, which is severed by jealousy and resentment. Eventually, Wo-Ping looks to reconcile again. But this time, Yiu-Fai has had enough.

"Happy Together" might put some viewers off, because it is about gay men. But this movie has very little interest in the politics of homosexuality. It is more interested in portraying the ordeal of its main character, Lai Yiu-Fai, in a way that is true to life. His emotional struggle is meant to be universal: the unextinguished candle that still burns for the love object; the insecurity and mistrust that degenerates into possessiveness; gradually understanding that things were not meant to be.

While the movie sounds simple, writer/director Wong Kar-Wai understands that the emotions involved are deep and complex. So the way he conducts the film, he plays the emotions like a kind of music. He underscores his characters’ silent longings with French New Wave-style flair, making them big as life.

Kar-Wai uses slow-motion, freeze shots, and multi-angle edits to turn seemingly meaningless moments into intervals of great profundity. When a character places his head on another character’s shoulder, it’s shot in slow-motion, with tango playing in the background. Slow-motion draws attention to their faces; we can practically read what Lai Yiu-Fai feels—suspicion combined with genuine temptation. By using tango, Kar-Wai reminds us that his characters, though they are sitting in a cab and staring straight ahead, are engaging, emotionally, in a give-and-take that indeed qualifies as a dance. Another interesting moment occurs when Lai Yiu-Fai walks into a men’s room, and unexpectedly finds Ho Wo-Ping. The picture freezes. Lai Yui-Fai is surprised, his emotions overwhelmed. As a result, his reality, represented by the film itself, momentarily seizes up.

The director also employs an unique narrative device to give his characters’ relationship added depth. A scene will be shown, such as Yiu-Fai receiving a call from Wo-Ping, or him startling Wo-Ping and accusing him of rifling through his closets. Then the film flashes back to a prior event, which may have taken place minutes, hours, or days before. Kar-Wai and Christopher Doyle, his frequent cinematographer, elect to use black-and-white photography for the flashbacks. This way, when we see Wo-Ping, alone in his plush hotel room, go out into the hallway to call Yiu-Fai, or Wo-Ping rummaging through the closets, it doesn’t impede the story. We can tell the difference between what is happening now, and what happened in the past.

Why does the director choose to structure the film in this fashion? Why detour from chronological order? By intercutting flashbacks into the linear narrative, Kar-Wai gives us two points of view for every scene he meddles with. This way, we can observe how the characters distrust each other, how even basic interactions feature deceit. In the previous example, Yiu-Fai only knew that his personal belongings had been tossed about. Thanks to the flashbacks, we know (and Yiu-Fai doesn’t) that Wo-Ping was looking for a particular thing.

We are privy to information one character has, which the other does not have. When Yiu-Fai gets the call from Wo-Ping, and the invitation to his hotel, he assumes that Wo-Ping wants to show off the spoils of his gigolo lifestyle. Far from it. Wo-Ping has a comfortable bed, and luxuries meant to satisfy his hedonistic urges. Pornography blares from his hotel room TV. The dresser is decorated with open bottles of alcohol. What’s conspicuously missing, however, is intimacy of any sort. To try and alleviate the aching of his heart, Wo-Ping reaches out to Yiu-Fai. But Yiu-Fai is not privy to the flashbacks, nor the information they contain. As a result, he does not realize his former lover’s intent, nor the complicated emotions that inform his actions.

As a final nod to Kar-Wai’s gift for mise-en-scene, "Happy Together" might contain the boldest example of symbolism I have seen in his movies. There is a shot of a giant waterfall, used to underscore Lai Yiu-Fai’s emotional state after being dumped. The sight of the waterfall (which is presented via a slow, panning shot, probably done from a helicopter) delivers a powerful emotional impact. It is conveniently juxtaposed. It follows the scene where Wo-Ping tells him that their days together are dull. Yiu-Fai walks towards the camera, head down. He looks grief-stricken. When we see the waterfall, we infer that the thousands of gallons pouring from the falls represent the sorrow gushing forth from Yiu-Fai’s heart. It’s a picture that speaks a thousand words, from a man who really knows how to use images to encompass volumes.

"Lai-Yiu Fai… We could start over again."

These are words his lover, Ho Wo-Ping, constantly says to him. When he wants to break up, he offers that caveat. Someday, perhaps, they can start over again. Eventually, Wo-Ping will want to get back together. Then he will say the same thing: “Lai Yiu-Fai… We could start over again.”

How interesting that Wong Kar-Wai should set “Happy Together,” about two gay men who try to start a new life together, in Argentina. After all, during the 1880’s, immigrants from all over the world flocked there to begin anew. Of course, they could never leave the Old World behind completely. When time came to commiserate about failed romance or cultural alienation, these immigrants from Europe, Africa, and other distant lands drowned their sorrows in the tango. The tango combined familiar musical styles with some unfamiliar ones. It produced an exotic sound, but also reflected home.

Over a hundred years after the original immigrants, Lai Yui-Fai and Ho Wo-Ping also try to start anew. But can a person really begin again? Can we return to a past romantic partner, without digging up old resentments? Wong Kar-Wai seems to argue that you can indeed start over. But only if you are a different person than you were the previous time. Otherwise, the past has a tendency to repeat itself, as it does for Lai Yiu-Fai and Ho Wo-Ping.

Yiu-Fai and Wo-Ping face a nearly-insurmountable obstacle. Wo-Ping is selfish, indulges too much. He is too much attracted to Argentina's wild nightlife. Yiu-Fai, on the other hand, is practical, giving, and responsible. His and Wo-Ping’s values greatly differ. When they get back together in Argentina, things go well for a while. But only because Wo-Ping needs Yiu-Fai’s help. Special circumstances lead to this comfortable, symbiotic relationship developing. It only lasts, however, for as long as Wo-Ping remains hurt.

As soon as Wo-Ping’s begins recovering from his beating, he regresses to his old ways. This leads to conflict, and inevitable dissolution. Part of the problem is Wo-Ping, who is unwilling to change his behavior. But at the same time, Yiu-Fai will not stop being possessive. At one point, Yiu-Fai buys two entire cartons of cigarettes, so Wo-Ping won’t have that excuse to leave the apartment at night. This sends him into a brief rage. Wo-Ping makes it clear to Yiu-Fai, who would rather he stayed home, "If I want to go out, I’ll go out."

Jealousy and suspicion also seep in. These two know each other too well, and have experienced too much pain at the other’s hands. It must have occurred to Yiu-Fai that his partner might get bored, and leave again. So he takes something of Wo-Ping’s. This stolen object guarantees that, even if he leaves, he cannot get too far.

How much better it would be if Yiu-Fai and Wo-Ping started over alone. Especially since neither character has changed since they last broke up. For them, there is no point in trying to start again. If their personality conflicts drove them apart in the past, and both men are still the same, history must repeat itself. Of course, if their relationship did not collapse again, Wong Kar-Wai would not have his movie. One of the truths about the human heart, which “Happy Together” espouses very well, is that sometimes, the mighty organ cannot help itself. It yearns for the departed. It tosses aside common sense to try and reclaim some joy from the past.

But the heart can also find pleasure in something new. One day, Yiu-Fai crosses paths with Chang, who works at the restaurant where Yiu-Fai has taken a job. Gradually, they get to know each other. We can tell from his voiceovers that Chang is a sensitive boy.

Yiu-Fai relates to Chang much differently than with Wo-Ping. With the latter, the attraction was mostly physical, and Kar-Wai established this early on. The very first shot of the movie showed Yiu-Fai’s naked body being observed by Wo-Ping. He followed that up with a scene of them having sex. By contrast, Yiu-Fai and Chang share a deeper, more emotional bond. Both their souls are homesick. Chang, however, wants to see more of the world before going back.

Although their relationship never becomes sexual, Chang gives Yiu-Fai something more important: Strength to truly start over fresh. Hearing Chang talk about home, and his family, he is reminded of a past indiscretion. He realizes that he cannot go home as the same person, for the injured party will not accept him. So Yiu-Fai begins the process of change by writing a long letter to the injured. Once upon a time, he could not imagine doing such a thing. Yet here he is, writing the letter. But Yiu-Fai still isn’t ready to return home. He must embark on a descent into the underworld, where he wanders aimlessly through Argentina’s gay subculture. It is an abyss of orange sunsets and temptations of the flesh.

With Chang gone, and Wo-Ping at a distance, Yiu-Fai finally gets the chance to stare into the abyss, and not look away. He gets an opportunity to build character. Now, when he returns home to Hong Kong, having survived loss, loneliness, and the quietus that is a solitary mind, he will be a different man. He will have conquered himself; he will have left Wo-Ping behind for good. Now he gets his chance at redemption and forgiveness. Now he can really start over.

Overall rating: **** (out of ****)