CITY ON FIRE (1987)

In the mid-1980s, director Ringo Lam made his mark as a jobbing director in the Hong Kong film industry with a handful of successful comedies, but that’s not the direction he wanted to steer his career. During a discussion with producer Karl Maka, he voiced his unhappiness and was perhaps surprised to be offered a budget of HK$4M and free rein to make a film in the genre of his choice. That’s less than $400K but near the average for Hong Kong films from the major studios at the time and proved to be a shrewd investment. The resulting movie, City on Fire / 龙虎风云, won two of the top Hong Kong Film Awards: Ringo Lam for ‘Best Director’ and Chow Yun-fat for ‘Best Actor’.

The actor and the director found they were competing against themselves for accolades that year. Chow Yun-fat was also nominated for his romantic lead in An Autumn’s Tale (1987) and for Prison on Fire (1987) which earned Ringo Lam another nomination for ‘Best Director’. This snapshot is a good indicator of just how lively the Hong Kong film industry was. In 1987 alone, Chow Yun-fat made 11 movies.

The bloody killing of undercover cop Chan Kam-wah (Elvis Tsui) in a busy market pulls us into the unglamourised underbelly of Hong Kong’s underworld. He was butchered while telephoning Inspector Lau (Yueh Sun) who finds no witnesses at the scene of the crime, despite the crowds who must have seen the murder. Fuelled by desperation to bring the culprits to justice, he calls on another of his undercover agents, Ko Chow (Chow Yun-fat), who’s reluctant and instead wants to be pulled out of undercover duties.

It transpires that Ko Chow and Lau’s deceased son were once partners, more like brothers, and so they have developed an almost familial relationship. This backstory simmers under the surface, subtly informing character interactions and driving dialogue which cleverly says more by what it avoids mentioning than what is spoken aloud. For example, we know the bond between Inspector Lau and Ko Chow is deep, but we only discover the reasons through glimpses of Ko Chow’s recurring nightmares and details of the meticulous mise en scène. Using environs to tell a story so dialogue is freed-up to express the emotional dynamics of characters is a mark of good scriptwriting. Of course, Ko Chow eventually agrees to infiltrate the same gang that murdered Chan Kam-wah, providing this is the last undercover case he’s assigned. And that never bodes well in a police thriller, does it?

The cinematography of Andrew Wai Keung Lau is a key component here, although it varies in quality. Often, this is for expressive purposes such as the scene in the mortuary, which is clinical and emotionless to counterpoint the rage buried within two damaged men mourning the deaths of others. Sometimes, handheld camera emphasises the disorientating physicality of the action, particularly during some street scenes when the crew had to film without permits. Ringo Lam exploited the energy and sense of genuine urgency this guerrilla approach brought with it. The cast and crew had to be just as quick as the fictional heists to shoot and get out before the police intervened.

Sometimes, low light pushes the film grain to the surface adding a sense of documentary realism while other interiors are stylishly shot with glowing cigarette smoke curling through the velvety shadows. Combined with the blue jazz saxophone score from Teddy Robin Kwan one can’t help but be reminded of Blade Runner (1982).

The shots of Hong Kong at night are gorgeous, whether the quiet empty lamp-lit streets or the neon glow of the bustling nightlife districts. These sequences also document a vanished Hong Kong that didn’t survive the end of British colonial governance. A process that looms over this and many other movies produced between the signing of the Sino-British Joint Declaration of 1984 and the final handover to Chinese rule during 1997. This conflicting duality is reflected by the beleaguered but honourable Inspector Lau representing the old guard and the younger Inspector Chan (Roy Cheung) embodying fears of the new. He’s less interested in justice and more concerned with amassing personal power and influence which he will no doubt eventually bring to bear for personal gain. Roy Cheung is convincing as a supremely hateable villain that the audience are eager to see punished and the suspense of whether he will ultimately succeed or be brought down is another narrative hook.

Ko Chow has been undercover for so long that he now lives and behaves like a triad hoodlum. However, Chow Yun-fat portrays him with deeply conflicting emotions. He wants out, but he’s also engaged to marry Hung (Carrie Ng) a nightclub hostess who has no inkling of his true identity. In her breakthrough role Carrie Ng provides a volatile foil for Chow Yun-fat’s emotionally confused performance that balances boyish charm with delinquent swagger. Of course, their wedding plans are completely disrupted by his last mission, and she seems set to leave for a new life in Canada with a richer man she doesn’t really love. This was at a time when many people sought to leave Hong Kong to avoid the increasing uncertainty as mainland China tightened its grip on the territory and Canada was a popular emigration destination.

Fu (Danny Lee) is a comparatively honourable member of the criminal gang that Ko Chow infiltrates and the relationship between these two men forms the backbone to the entire narrative. Lee’s calm performance implying resignation rather than desperation provides a perfect balance with Chow Yun-fat’s restrained emotional and moral turmoil expressed through every gesture and expression. It’s a multi-layered portrayal of a man who is trying to cling onto himself while becoming increasingly unsure of his own identity, torn between love, friendship and divided loyalty—to those who now trust him and his duty as a policeman. Chow Yun-fat and Danny Lee work so well together when they share screen time and would reunite two years later in John Woo’s The Killer (1989), another landmark of Hong Kong’s cinema of ‘heroic bloodshed’.

City on Fire is a gritty crime thriller invariably described as uncompromising and, because of its harsh violence and generally bleak tone, I can’t unreservedly recommend it for everyone. However, for those who enjoy what would become known as Hong Kong ‘kinetic action’ or ‘heroic bloodshed’, this is one of a handful of films that created those genres, alongside John Woo’s seminal A Better Tomorrow (1986) which also won two Hong Kong Film Awards: ‘Best Film’ and Chow Yun-fat for ‘Best Actor’.

Although overshadowed by the earlier success of A Better Tomorrow, the production of the two films overlapped and, with Chow Yun-fat starring in both, there was some inevitable cross-pollination. Already a popular screen presence in Hong Kong for his television roles, these two movies catapulted the actor to superstar status. His bravura performances in both—as criminal and cop respectively—are considered his international breakthrough.

City on Fire is often cited as the film that inspired Reservoir Dogs (1992), perhaps to such an extent that the latter was an unofficial remake. There’s certainly a thematic resonance and the two films feature undercover cops infiltrating an inept gang of crooks with pivotal interactions playing out in a warehouse after a botched heist. Quentin Tarantino openly acknowledges this influence while pointing out that both films are informed by several classic 1940s noirs. Idetected some passing plot parallels with Robert Siodmak’s Cry of the City (1948) and Raoul Walsh’s White Heat (1949). However, the climactic scenes following an ill-fated ‘Mexican standoff’ are indeed strikingly similar. Other undercover police thrillers that are clearly influenced by City on Fire must include Phil Joanou’s State of Grace (1990) and Bill Duke’s Deep Cover (1992).

Despite the unrelenting bleakness, it was released for Chinese New Year, a time when comedies and family films traditionally ruled the Hong Kong box office. Nevertheless, it was a huge hit and for a budget finally approaching HK$6M, it recouped nearly HK$20M. Audiences were shocked by its transgressive violence involving innocent women being shot multiple times and a police officer taking a point-blank bullet to the head. Equally, they were delighted to see themselves represented on screen in a film that captured the real streets of Hong Kong. In recognition of its innovation and influence, the Hong Kong Film Awards Association would later rank it among the ‘100 Best Chinese Films’ of all time.

HONG KONG | 1987 | 105 MINUTES | 1.85:1 | COLOUR | CHINESE

Limited Edition Blu-ray Special Features:

• High Definition (1080p) Blu-ray presentation. Showcasing the excellent cinematography of Andrew Wai Keung Lau from the grainy verité style to the painterly use of neon and shadows.
• Original lossless Cantonese and English mono audio. Generally, crisp and clear.
• Optional English subtitles for the Cantonese soundtrack and English subtitles for the deaf and hard of hearing for the English soundtrack.
• Brand new audio commentary by Hong Kong cinema experts Frank Djeng and F.J. DeSanto. As expected, Frank Djeng does most of the talking here with DeSanto mainly there to slow him down a bit, drop a question here and there, and add observations about what’s on the screen at the time. In addition to the expected production information and detailed biographies of key cast and crew, there’s a wealth of culturally dependent details that, when explained, make a crucial difference to how certain scenes are perceived and understood—such as the pork and bottle of Tsingtao beer glimpsed in the mortuary cabinet as an offering to the departed. Being a professional translator, Djeng also provides some insight into subtleties of expression and explains the original Chinese title, 龍虎風雲, which means “Dragon and Tiger Storm,” a poetic phrase which can be understood to mean something like “Police and Robbers in Chaos.” The “Storm” can also allude to clouds or smoke and therefore, “Fire.” He also points out notable cameos including Tommy Sham, the scriptwriter, and Ringo Lam, the director. An excellent commentary that significantly enhances the viewing experience. I particularly enjoyed his pointing out locations and explaining how familiar they would’ve been to residents of Hong Kong. Also, which ones were well-known and have been torn down since the territory has been reabsorbed by China.
• Burn It Down, a NEW interview with screenwriter Tommy Sham. Who is clearly pleased to be still talking about the movie, though surprised by its lasting appeal. He gives a career overview since selling his first script, for the Shaw Brothers production, Tales of a Eunuch (1983) and working for China Television Company (CTV) at the same time as Ringo Lam. He then discusses the making of City on Fire beginning with his scriptwriting collaboration with Ringo Lam and action director Joe Chu Kai-Sang aka Joseph Chi. He’s rather humble and self-effacing, recalling how writers were generally underappreciated at the time and honestly admitting that his original scripts were continually altered by directors and added to by actors during production. He recalls that Danny Lee was initially cast as the cop and Chow Yun-fat as the crook but that was swapped, partially in response to previous casting which had established some preconceptions about the actors and the characters they play. He then shares some memories of filming, such as the excitement of being showered by shattered glass and the lack of regard for health and safety. He also believes that the success of City on Fire was not due to the hard-hitting action but the emotions driving it. Along the way he shares some insight about scriptwriting with my favourite nugget of wisdom being that “writing is easy… it might be good or bad writing – you don’t know, but then you have a first draft to work with…”
• Hong Kong Confidential, a NEW appreciation by author Grady Hendrix. Tracing connections between A Better Tomorrow and City on Fire, starting with Tsui Hark recommending Ringo Lam to the production company Cinema City. He recounts how Ringo Lam was inspired by William Friedkin’s The French Connection (1971). The director researched the real-life armed robberies targeting Hong Kong jewellery stores in the early 1980s, particularly the Time Watch Company which made the headlines in 1985 along with some high-profile trials of gangsters involved in such heists. Apparently, Ringo Lam sat in on some of those trials and was struck by how ordinary and unglamorous the perpetrators were—scruffy, ineloquent, and near illiterate. So, he set out to make a suitably unglamorous action crime thriller to reflect this. Hendrix goes on to track the production of City on Fire, with information about key cast. He quotes Chow Yun-fat as summing up Ringo Lam as a director that did everything ‘wrong,’ which kept it all fresh.
• Some Like It Hot, a NEW appreciation by film historian Ric Meyers. The kung-fu scholar places City on Fire against its historical backdrop in a context of its Hong Kong action cinema heritage. He tracks Chow Yun-fat’s rise to stardom and analyses his performance as “a lost soul trying to do the right thing,” before drawing comparisons with his many and varied roles in adjacent productions right up to replacing Jet Li in the male lead for Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000). He points out that Chow Yun-fat, just like a martial arts practitioner, combines mental and physical attributes to create holistic, deeply engaging performances.
• Burning Rivalries, a NEW appreciation by critic Kim Newman. Tracing common influences shared by City on Fire and Reservoir Dogs discussing some narrative similarities but mainly how their directors responded very differently. He looks back to films such as John Huston’s The Asphalt Jungle (1950), Jules Dassin’s Rififi (1955), and Stanley Kubrick’s The Killing (1955).
• An archival interview with director Ringo Lam.
• Portrait of Anger, an archival interview with cinematographer Andrew Lau.
• Long Arm of the Law, an archival interview with co-star Roy Cheung.
• Theatrical trailer.
• Image gallery.
• Reversible sleeve featuring original and newly commissioned artwork by Tony Stella.
• Illustrated collectors’ booklet featuring NEW writing on the film by Dylan Cheung. Not available at time of review.

Cast & Crew

director: Ringo Lam.
writer: Tomm Sham (story by Ringo Lam).
starring: Chow Yun-fat, Danny Lee, Sun Yueh, Carrie Ng & Roy Cheung.