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Review
by Kozo: |
Fruit Chan’s The Midnight After adapts its source material, web novel “Lost on a Red Mini Bus to Tai Po”, in an unfaithful, potentially disappointing, but also inspired and ingenious manner. Written by a HK netizen under the pseudonym Pizza, “Lost on a Red Mini Bus to Tai Po” has a terrific concept – really, it’s Lost on a red mini bus – and the film adaptation offers an engaging buildup of that core storyline. Then the film becomes something else, perhaps at the cost of the very reason that would entice someone to see it. To wit: The Midnight After starts as an apocalyptic thriller but ultimately drops its genre hook in favor of an extended metaphor on disaffected, displaced Hong Kongers. Such a move is legitimately concerning for fans of the novel (or coherent cinema in general), and the fact that the story is left unfinished does the film no favors whatsoever. But for some, the inconclusive end may not matter because The Midnight After does what it chooses to do so very well.
The Midnight After starts with over a dozen characters (played by Simon Yam and Kara Hui, among others) boarding a red minibus in Mongkok. Steered by substitute driver Suet (Lam Suet), the bus is headed for Tai Po, but once it passes through the Lion Rock Tunnel – crossing from Kowloon to the New Territories – Hong Kong becomes a ghost town. Three students are dropped off first, but one is looking pale and sick, while junkie Blind Fai (Sam Lee) is dumped on the highway after he has a bad drug reaction. When the bus gets to Tai Po, everyone starts to realize something is wrong. Why are the streets empty? Where is everyone? Why can’t they reach anyone using their mobile phones? Why are people falling ill? And who are the mysterious masked figures lurking about? In many ways, Midnight After does resemble Lost. Bundle some disparate types on a vehicle, strand them alone in a strange world, introduce numerous mysteries and then compound them exponentially. Add a polar bear and a smoke monster and you’re basically there.
Obvious inspirations aside, Midnight After is notable because it tells an apocalyptic story set in Hong Kong – an idea that’s a lot rarer than it should be. The filmmakers build their premise with engrossing detail, introducing characters efficiently and distinctly. As the situation is revealed, the tone shifts in bizarre and even delightful ways. Once the group is ensconced in a Tai Po restaurant (Michelin-recommended Wah Fai Restaurant & Cake Shop), computer whiz Shun (Tsui Tin-Yau) intercepts a Morse Code message sent over the airwaves to “Major Tom”. The message actually contains the lyrics to David Bowie’s “Space Oddity”, adding a new mystery to the proceedings but also highlighting the film’s unique sense of humor, as the cast launches into a surreal C-grade music video performance led by Wai (local singer Jan Curious). The musical detour is very strange, but it jumpstarts the film’s journey into metaphor, accompanied by crappy visual effects and copious satire. The Midnight After clearly knows that it’s headed afield and obliges tonally and stylistically.
The film’s eccentricities are offset by excellent production design and visual effects that present a Hong Kong devoid of life. Hong Kong Cinema’s previous forays into apocalyptic fiction (e.g., Wilson Yip’s Bio-Zombie) usually stuck to confined spaces, but Midnight After creates expansive, empty environments out of Tai Po’s streets, skylines and highways. The production conveys an eerie resonance and foreboding, while the film’s dark sense of humor adds an intelligence and edginess. Unlike the novel, which has clearly defined leads, the film spreads its focus among a cast representing exaggerated versions of Hong Kong’s varied Chinese populace. The characters belong to varying occupations and classes, with differences giving rise to conflict and an uncomfortable, darkly funny look at human nature. The sharp script also references local topics, from universal suffrage and political issues to class prejudice. Pacing is strong too; despite much of the action taking place inside a restaurant, the film never loses steam.
Less can be said for the story. The film follows its nominal lead, Chi (Wong Yau-Nam), as he races from Tai Po back to Kowloon, glimpses mysterious figures wearing gas masks, and forms an odd bond with the mysterious Yuki (Janice Man). Mysteries are discovered and questions are asked, but little is resolved. Narratively, that is. Metaphorically, The Midnight After hits a home run, and manages to connect its concept and its ideas without didactic dialogue or explain-it-all speeches. The film’s Hong Kong allegory is incisive; Midnight After depicts Tai Po as a place cut off from the rest of the world where normal rules no longer apply – maybe just like Hong Kong after the Handover, where people have rights but cannot vote, and have resorted to compromising their humanity for simple survival. But besides dark, there’s also light; the film displays an acute affection for Hong Kong that should resonate with those who get the richly-detailed metaphor.
However, the audience has to get Fruit Chan’s vision, and some viewers, most especially Western ones, may not be inclined to. The film still works as a black comedy and universal allegory on the collapse of society, but without accepting Tai Po as a metaphor for Hong Kong, the climax only puzzles. The Midnight After delivers a fine emotional payoff if one gets that this apocalyptic Tai Po is what Hong Kong became after 1997 and the desire to stay or leave is very much a reflection of the Hong Kong experience. Is Hong Kong hopeless? Is it really a lawless purgatory where the rules no longer apply? Or can collective memory and small joys sustain us in an inhospitable, perhaps doomed environment? The Midnight After captures those conflicts and emotions remarkably, such that its climactic moments work in all their nonsensical, lyrical glory. The film offers an open ending that’s not really a cliffhanger, so if we never find out what happens to the characters – well, it works anyway because the journey is really more important than the destination.
Except, perhaps, to fans of the novel. “Lost on a Red Mini Bus to Tai Po” is apocalyptic fiction without the exploration of Hong Kong identity, so this narrative divergence is understandably frustrating. It’s also not the film’s fault, because the novel remains unfinished, and indeed devolves into so many plot twists that it starts to eat its own tail – hey, just like the television show Lost! A sequel to Midnight After is absolutely necessary, because mysteries like Chi’s old schoolmate, the phone call from his girlfriend (Cherry Ngan) and his ghostly visions of Yuki won’t be explained otherwise. However, the answers may not satisfy audiences, and Fruit Chan’s acute Hong Kong metaphor could end up being kneecapped by a continued chase for Major Tom. On some level, the film is best left as is: a pop-art genre film that’s inexplicable yet compelling, a funky Morse Code message in a bottle delivered via 2.4 GHz wi-fi. The Midnight After does not fully make sense, but succeeds splendidly without having to. (Kozo, 4/2014) |
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