In this blog post, I’d like to explore the beauty of ‘A Better Tomorrow’ and its emotional expression through its narrative, the relationships between its characters, its slow tempo, its image-driven storytelling, and some of its most memorable scenes.

‘A Better Tomorrow’, Revisited Through Hazy Memories

There are films like that. Films that leave you in a daze after watching them, and later, only the vivid images and lingering feelings come to mind. ‘Ashes of Time’ was that kind of film for me. To be honest, I couldn’t quite recall the story or the sequence of events. It was precisely because ‘Ashes of Time’ was a film I could say, “I can’t remember much, but it was still good”—leaving only a faint, nostalgic feeling—that I bravely chose to revisit it. And now, having watched ‘As Tears Go By’ again, I found it to be an incredibly beautiful film.
Movies reflect reality. What a film seeks to portray can vary widely. It might be the truth of life, the depths of despair, or a distant ideal. But all of these are ultimately secondary elements, because, in the end, they can all be grouped under the umbrella of “reality.” Not only films that deal with current events in our world, but even fantasy works like ‘Harry Potter’ or ‘The Lord of the Rings’ reflect reality. These films can be distinguished based on the form they use to portray our reality. They might adopt realism to make the harshness of reality felt directly, or they might present it through beautifully crafted fantasy. What about ‘Ashes of Time’? I believe ‘Ashes of Time’ is quite fantastical. This is true both in terms of the story’s causal structure and its visual style. Set in an overall dreamlike atmosphere, the protagonist appears to have detached from reality and is living as if suspended in mid-air, which can seem unrealistic.
‘Ashes of Time’ is said to be director Wong Kar-wai’s biggest box-office flop. In South Korea, it even sparked a refund frenzy. I suspect the monotonous, slow pace and the static, image-driven atmosphere—rather than a story-driven one—were the causes of its commercial failure. However, these very factors that led to ‘Ashes of Time’’s failure are now being reevaluated as its charm. Within that quiet, unhurried, and relaxed atmosphere—one that is never intense—the protagonists tell their respective stories in a way that fits perfectly. Through this blog post, I aim to analyze and determine what exactly makes ‘Ashes of Time’ so compelling, and what the director intended to convey by deliberately adopting a style that no one understood at the time. In short, this is why I chose ‘Ashes of Time’.

The Narrative and Character Relationships in ‘A Better Tomorrow’

The film begins with Ah-bei (played by Leslie Cheung) striking up a conversation with Su Li-chen (played by Maggie Cheung). Ah-bei approaches her with smooth talk in an attempt to win her attention. Su Li-chen soon falls for Ah Fei and becomes intimate with him, but they eventually part ways after facing conflicts stemming from Ah Fei’s lack of planning and unpredictability. Later, Ah Fei meets a dancer named Mimi (played by Yu Jialing), and the two quickly become intimate. When Su Li-chen returns to Ah Fei, she realizes he no longer accepts her and discovers he has a new lover. Heartbroken, she borrows money from a police officer (played by Andy Lau) who was on patrol, spotted her, and alerted Avi to her arrival. As she repays the debt and pours out her loneliness and sadness, they share a brief encounter. The officer tells her to call him anytime if she needs someone to talk to, but Surichen does not call.
After a confrontation with his adoptive mother, Avi discovers the whereabouts of his biological mother. Upon hearing that she is in the Philippines, he abandons Mimi and heads there. Mimi, who had been searching for A-bi, learns that he has gone to the Philippines and declares she will follow him. A-bi goes to his biological mother’s house, but she refuses to see him; he ends up drunk and collapsed in a back alley, where he is found by a sailor (played by Andy Lau), and the two form a bond.
At a restaurant where the two are having breakfast, Abi enters into a negotiation over his passport. Having no money, he stabs his opponent and seizes the passport. A fight breaks out, but the two manage to escape unharmed and board a train, where Abi is shot. As he faces death, Abi recalls his memories and realizes that he was once a dead bird.
The two engage in various conversations, during which they reveal and come to understand their past connection. The sailor turns out to be the police officer who had comforted Su Li-chen, and A-bi asks Su Li-chen to tell her to forget him. Mimi comes to Hong Kong to find A-bi. Su Li-chen, working at the soccer association’s ticket office, calls the police officer, but no one answers.

Others’ Perspectives on ‘A Better Tomorrow’

One netizen commented as follows:
“This single movie turned me into a die-hard fan of Wong Kar-wai.” ‘Ashes of Time’ is the Hong Kong release title for ‘In the Mood for Love’. This was chosen to reflect the 1960s setting and because the character A-Bi is the protagonist. However, it cannot be said that he is the sole protagonist. In this film, which is structured around the characters’ narration, everyone has their own story to tell.
The great significance of ‘Ashes of Time’ lies in the fact that it established Wong Kar-wai’s new style. If ‘As Tears Go By’ is a film driven by story, ‘As Tears Go By’ is a film driven by imagery—one that unfolds through monologues. The characters each voice their own thoughts. This seems to be the story Wong Kar-wai himself wanted to tell. Looking at the dialogue and scenes commonly used across his films, this is the impression I get.
Wong Kar-wai’s step-print effect creates new time and space. The use of slanted camera angles to express unconventional psychology also began here, as did the introduction of the jukebox—a fusion of image and sound—and the emphasis on time. ‘Ashes of Time’ marks the origin of all these elements.
Hong Seong-jin explains it as follows in his film commentary:
Alongside other Chinese-language films such as Taiwan’s ‘City of Sadness’ (Hou Hsiao-hsien), mainland China’s ‘Yellow Earth’ (Jin Kaige), and ‘Dim Sum’ (Wayne Wang) set in New York’s Chinatown—it is regarded as Hong Kong’s first true art film, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with these three other Chinese-language films. Yet, it faced a dismal box-office failure, a lack of understanding, and nothing but commercial pressure regarding the direction of its sequel. Even though he had, for the time being, overcome the cinematic limitations dictated by the material foundations of Hong Kong capitalism, that bold attempt is now largely remembered as nothing more than an adventurous fluke. Some analysts argue that this case is even more regrettable than the failure Tsui Hark experienced with ‘Chu Shan’, because while Tsui Hark failed with an “artistic commercial film,” Wong Kar-wai failed with a “commercial art film.”
‘Ashes of Time’, which took two years just to develop the story, is a film characterized by a slow tempo and a color palette consistent with Wong Kar-wai’s vision of the 1960s—in contrast to ‘As Tears Go By’, which made extensive use of rapid montage techniques, close-ups, and music. Wong Kar-wai combined technically complex camera movements borrowed from B-movies with long takes, and he has stated that he was influenced by Márquez in terms of narrative structure. Yu Wei-kang, who served as director of photography on ‘Ashes of Time’, worked with the second unit on this film; he also led the second unit on ‘Ashes of Time’ and handled the lighting for ‘Chungking Express’. Christopher Doyle (Du Jiafeng) served as the main director of photography, marking his first collaboration with Wong Kar-wai.
Although considered the greatest film among Wong Kar-wai enthusiasts, it suffered a box office disaster due to its overly lyrical and tedious narrative. Production of ‘Ashes of Time 2’, for which preparations were already underway, was canceled, and Tony Leung Chiu-wai, who was set to star in the sequel, ended up making only a brief appearance in the first film.
Naver Encyclopedia describes ‘Ashes of Time’ as Wong Kar-wai’s second film as director, following 1988’s ‘As Tears Go By’, and notes that it captures the preciousness of life and the intrinsic value of love through slices of modern life. While the film stands out for Wong Kar-wai’s signature still-like frames, slow pace, and complex camera techniques, it was a box office flop upon its release in Hong Kong, Taiwan, and South Korea, and even sparked a refund frenzy in South Korea. It was harshly criticized as a “cursed film” for being overly lyrical and tedious, but within a few years, it came to be regarded as Wong Kar-wai’s greatest masterpiece.

Why Couldn’t Ah Fei Settle Down Anywhere?

Ah Fei (played by Leslie Cheung) is the film’s protagonist, delivering a monologue that serves as a metaphor for himself. He says that a bird without feet never touches the ground in its lifetime; when it grows weary from flying, it rests by surrendering itself to the wind. He adds that the only time this bird will ever touch the ground is at the moment of its death. Ah Fei met countless women and truly showed them the image of a “bird without feet.” A being who settles with no one and knows no permanence. He appears to be plagued by a sense of futility and shifts the blame onto his adoptive mother.
For him, the most important thing is to find his biological mother. When he meets his end without fulfilling that wish, he soliloquizes that he was a bird that had never gone anywhere in his life—a bird that had been dead from the very beginning. He is a man whose actions are inscrutable. He does not act based on reason, nor does he behave in conventional ways. He never gave his heart to any woman nor stayed with any of them. His demeanor—seemingly indifferent to his surroundings and lacking interest—conveys a sense of listlessness and futility.
From the very beginning, he granted himself a free pass: the fact that he was adopted. Citing this loss, he leads a lethargic life, shunning work; he casually meets and leaves women, living a life where he cannot put down roots anywhere.
In reality, he leads an unstable life, as if floating in mid-air, but this isn’t because he lacks feet. He has simply hidden his own feet and refused to seek them out. I wonder if A-bi isn’t a beautiful human being—someone who lives by mistreating himself without clearly defining anything, a figure who is, in some ways, foolish and, in others, living in a fantasy.
The police officer (played by Andy Lau) is the polar opposite of A-bi. He possesses a clear sense of purpose. He is a character grounded in reality—one who clearly knows what he wants to do, what he must do, and what he is capable of doing, and who strives to follow that path.
He wanted to become a sailor, but knowing he had to take care of his widowed mother, he gave up that dream and became a police officer instead. His dialogue with Su Liqin about school uniforms and poverty reveals that he is well aware of reality. This stands in stark contrast to A-Bi. A-Bi does not know what he wants to do. He attributes all his goals to his biological mother. A-Bi does not live in the real world. Perhaps thanks to his wealthy adoptive mother, he has been able to get by without ever having to face reality head-on.
This police officer also follows a single-minded path when it comes to love. He harbors deep feelings for a woman he has encountered a few times and intends to remember her for a long time. Unlike Abi, who showed no interest in those around him, the police officer saves Abi—a complete stranger—and, as a result, gets caught up in a violent incident. His character is evident from the warm words of comfort he offered to Su Li-chen earlier.
These two contrasting characters meet in the latter half of the film. The encounter between these two characters—who have nothing in common and are complete opposites—ultimately leads to the film’s conclusion.
Surichen (played by Maggie Cheung) is portrayed as a rational and unassuming woman. She is a character with a strong sense of realism. Abi was also aware of this aspect of her and stated that they were not a good match. She is a character who thinks about and plans for the future. Since A-bi, who doesn’t think about the future at all, and she could not find common ground, Su Li-chen eventually breaks up with A-bi.
She is a rational and composed character. She steadfastly erases the lingering memories of A-bi and pulls herself together. She is also cautious about new love, and it is only later that she finally answers the phone.
Mimi (played by Yoo Ga-ryeong) is a character who contrasts with Surichen. Compared to Surichen, Mimi is more playful and tends to react more emotionally. She goes through life with a certain degree of playfulness. In contrast to Surichen’s serious nature, she teases men who show interest in her—sometimes flirting lightly, other times cutting them off coldly. She is also uninhibited in expressing her emotions.
When she is abandoned by Abi, she reacts differently from Su-ri-cheon. Unlike Su-ri-cheon, who rationally tries to erase him from her mind and readjust to reality, Mimi shows great determination—she wails, searches for Abi, and even chases after him all the way to the Philippines.
The differences between the two are directly revealed in the scene where Mimi and Su-ri-cheon meet and talk. If the characters of Abi and the police officer represent diametrically opposed personalities in broad terms, Surichen and Mimi illustrate differences that are more nuanced and specific.
The subtitles in the movie I watched referred to Yu Galing’s character as “Mimi,” but online sources list her as “Lulu.” While the online information may be more accurate, I will refer to her as “Mimi” for now. Please bear with me.

A Film Driven by a Slow Pace and Visuals

The most distinctive feature of ‘Ashes of Time’ is likely its slow pacing. This slow tempo was precisely why audiences—who, at the time of its release, were accustomed to the suspense and narrative drive of story-driven films—turned away from it. While his artistic approach is now recognized and highly praised, at the time, it was such a failure that the originally planned ‘Ashes of Time 2’ was canceled.
‘Ashes of Time’ unfolds within a slow-paced visual rhythm. It is said to have been shot by combining complex camera movements with long takes. The film features no rapid scene transitions. The characters, too, do not act hastily and rarely give vent to intense emotions.
This film, which flows quietly amid seemingly restrained emotions, mitigates the risk of becoming tedious through its nuanced characters and beautiful cinematography. The visuals in ‘Ashes of Time’ are not sharp or crisp. They are either dark or bathed in light. Because the light is so abundant, many shadows are cast. The harmony between scenes obscured by deep shadows and those illuminated by light creates a beautiful visual aesthetic.
I suspect the visual palette Director Wong Kar-wai chose for the film is green. The film features so many green-hued scenes. The path where Su Li-chen and the police officer walk together glistens green in the rainwater. Ah Fei’s house appears in green tones, and the tiles at the place where Ah Fei first meets Mimi are also green. The curtains in the inn room where the police officer—now a sailor—was staying are green as well, and the path Ah Fei walks down, turning his back on his biological mother, is lined with lush greenery.
What was Wong Kar-wai’s intention in incorporating these shades of green into the film? Did he want to use green—a color associated with comfort that brings a sense of calm to the viewer—to offer the protagonists, who had lived such turbulent lives, the stability they had never known? Or did he perceive yet another form of instability within the color green itself?
The events and characters depicted in ‘Ashes of Time’ mesh exquisitely with this slow tempo, creating a deeply moving experience. The protagonists’ emotions—made even more vivid by the use of long takes—and their world, which feels somewhat listless and wounded, are brought to life. By recreating these elements in the most masterful way, the film achieves its full artistic beauty.

The Subtle Atmosphere Created by Interpersonal Relationships

What struck me while watching this film was the nature of the relationships between the characters, which are not overtly dramatic. In typical dramatic films, the relationships between certain characters serve as the driving force behind a series of events. In a romance, the meeting of the two protagonists is the fundamental catalyst for the subsequent story about their love. Even in a mystery, the relationships between the criminal, the detective, and the victim tend to be the driving force behind the case.
However, in ‘A Better Tomorrow’, the relationships between the characters do not significantly influence the series of events. While A-Bi’s encounter with Su-Li-Chen leads to her meeting Mimi, the interaction between these two women does not have a major impact on the plot’s development. Similarly, the encounters between Su-Li-Chen, A-Bi, and the police officer are connected only on an emotional level and do not significantly affect the story’s progression.
These interpersonal relationships—along with the fact that, although Ah-bi is the surface-level protagonist, the stories and relationships of supporting characters such as Su-ri-chen, Mi-mi, and the police officer unfold independently and carry significant weight—contribute to the film’s understated atmosphere. By avoiding the dominance of any single relationship or character, the film evokes an objective, almost detached mood.
I believe this is because if any single element were given too much weight, the film’s primary emotion would be expressed more explicitly, and the film itself would become more emotionally charged.

Abi, Who Was Shot, and the Sailor’s Question

As Abi, who had been shot, and the man—now a sailor—were boarding the train while chatting about various things, the man asked Abi, “Do you remember 3:00 p.m. on April 16th last year?” He was asking if she remembered Surichen.
We cannot tell what expression A-bi, who had been shot and sensed her impending death, made upon hearing this question. In this scene, the director uses a long take, sustaining a single shot for over two minutes. The camera captures only the police officer who asked the question from above in a chest shot.
He speaks—seemingly calm, yet with a hint of wistfulness, pain, and perhaps even struggle—as he answers her question and reflects on her. His face, captured from above, appears slightly haggard, as if filled with longing, and seems lonely.
Perhaps because his figure is shown exactly as it is—shadowed and swaying with the movement of the train—even though Abi answers in a seemingly composed voice, the man’s emotions are complex and fluctuating. Since Abi responds to the man’s questions using only his voice, it is difficult to discern his expression or emotions.
Abi, who remembered her. Abi, who remembered that one-minute conversation he had with her. From his statement that he remembers only what is absolutely necessary, can we infer that his memories of her were precious? Yet, the way Abi answers the man’s questions—calmly, without hesitation, and sticking strictly to the facts—suggests he may view it as nothing more than a mere memory.
Why did the director choose not to show Abi’s face, allowing only the man’s emotions to be revealed? For Abi, Surichen might simply be one of many lovers—or perhaps the opposite. In either case, doesn’t this reflect Abi’s life, which seemed to be one of constant wandering?
Even if Abi had once harbored romantic feelings for her, his would be different in nature from the steadfast man’s unwavering devotion that he cannot forget. Though it appears to be an ordinary scene, I believe it was crafted to fit each character’s personality and the situation.
After the conversation ends with the man’s line, “You probably won’t remember me,” we see a haggard-looking A-bi. A chest shot from above. Compared to the man who had his head bowed, A-bi’s head is tilted slightly upward, as if he’s recalling something or deep in thought.
With an expression that suggests he’s thinking about the past and pondering the somewhat sentimental question, “Will she remember me?” Then, the train carrying them is shown from above as it crosses a precarious bridge.

What Does ‘In the Mood for Love’ Mean to Me?

To me, ‘In the Mood for Love’ felt incredibly emotional. A-bi’s character seemed to represent many modern people, myself included—someone who wants to portray themselves as pitiful, who wants to adopt an attitude of indifference toward everything around them, and who comes across as somewhat insincere. But on the other hand, it was also the image of a weak soul who genuinely cannot find his own path and must live a life of helplessness.
There’s also the police officer who, rather than pretending to be strong to live a serious life, cannot ignore his wounds and instead lives while embracing them as they are; Su Li-chen, who wants to endure and move forward in life through reason; and Mimi, who throws herself honestly into her emotions. Their stories, blended with beautiful cinematography and a slow tempo, stir the emotions.
In fact, when I decided to make this film the subject of my report and watched it again, I was quite flustered. I had absolutely no idea how to approach writing it. Since I had taken in the film purely through emotion and sentiment, I lacked a complete understanding of the plot, and analyzing it was even more out of the question. But even though it might not make for a good report, I have no regrets about choosing ‘Ashes of Time’. That’s how deeply I came to perceive this film as a work of beauty.
The characters in this film are incredibly nuanced. They rarely raise their voices. Scenes where emotions erupt violently are shown only very briefly. As a result, their emotions may appear restrained, but they are simply expressing those feelings in different ways.
Perhaps thanks to the beautiful cinematography and the film’s slow pace, their emotions—fragile yet strong, desperate yet helpless—flow through the film in a restrained manner. Even though their expression may be restrained, their emotions themselves are not.
Most of the movies I’ve seen lately have featured direct emotional expression. If they’re sad, they cry; if they’re angry, they yell. Even when they held back their emotions, they made it abundantly clear that they were doing so. The fact that I’ve been exposed only to such candid expressions is likely because that’s the nature of our society’s current culture.
But ‘A Better Tomorrow’ is different. As mentioned earlier, the characters’ emotions are expressed in a subtly concealed manner. I believe that if you can capture the lyricism flowing between those moments, you’ll be able to appreciate the film’s beauty even more deeply.