Dumplings And Depravity: Hong Kong's Nostalgia

When presented with desperate circumstances we human beings often find ourselves faced with a multitude of choices and variables. Moral complexity factors heavily in how we manage what we perceive to be a crisis. We have the autonomy and agency to do more than a simple fight or flight response. Emulating who we try to be in these times requires emotional intelligence, fortitude, rationality. The kinds of things that can often be eschewed in favor of the quick fix, the promise of instant gratification and comfort, no matter how corrupt and potentially dangerous it may be in the long run.

Dumplings is the first segment of the 2004 horror anthology film “Three Extremes” directed by Hong Kong filmmaker Fruit Chan. If you recall I covered the second segment “Cut”, which was directed by Park Chan-wook, in a previous essay. However unlike Cut, which relied on building tension consistently throughout, ultimately keeping its true intentions hidden until pragmatically tearing its secrets down one by one, Dumplings goes for a different approach to horror cinema. Revealing its true face fairly early on and relying on its imagery, and its consequences to instill a feeling of unrelenting trepidation to keep the viewer angst high. Neither is an inherently “better” method of doing so, however Dumplings is definitely the riskier of the two which unfortunately doesn’t fully match the reward as effectively as it wanted to.

In present day Hong Kong, the word on the street is that a woman who goes by Aunt Mei serves the most delectable dumplings around. However it’s not the taste it’s patrons are there for, it’s the promise of eternal youth, beauty, pristine bodily condition no matter the age, so long as you’ve got the money for the gift of a literal lifetime. Almost too good to be true for Miss Lee. Our 50 year old main character, herself a retired actress, recently lost her husband’s attraction to a younger masseuse. Unhappy with the result, Miss Lee further presses Aunt Mei, this rumor had to come from somewhere credible. Mei relents, admitting she can do better for an even steeper price, not just monetarily, but morally as well.

The dingy decaying backdrop of the proceedings effectively conveys the emotional state of not only our main character Miss Lee, but of the nation of post-1997 Hong Kong as a whole. The collective dread, apathy, and hopelessness. Knowing the behemoth that is excruciatingly slowly swallowing them up, it is as slow of a death as you can possibly imagine, with each day one less moment to appreciate what they have, no matter how infinitesimally small that may be. Its cinematography uses relevant imagery to convey these feelings of hypnosis, such as a spiral staircase being shot from above, the deliberate mesmerization. It’s sweeping camerawork does well to predict us agape at what we are seeing unfold.

It is reflected in its narrative intentions as well. An older woman, doing whatever she can to cling to her former glory, the beauty from a bygone era, doing so in the most morally corrupt and vapid manner. In a way it’s morbidly humorous through its dialogue and its imagery, reflectively conveying to the viewer “this is literally all I have left.” Equal parts pathetic and horrific. Its structure interwoven with its themes fall a bit short. In particular it feels a bit heavy-handed particularly with it’s criticism of human vanity. Ultimately it shows it’s hand in a way that doesn’t feel unnerving, the mystery not only doesn’t have a chance to dig itself into us, and leaves us to be unsettled by the cause, more than the effect.

The messages of the film and how well it delivers on them are two-fold. Naturally you’re always going to hear my interpretations. That’s pretty much a given at this juncture. There is a broad criticism of human vanity at play here. The most vulnerable of humanity willing to accept the promise of eternal youth, doing anything and everything no matter how cynical and despicable it may be to selfishly allow themselves to feel good, regardless of whether or not they actually “look” good. 

More specifically it is a nostalgic and regretful longing for Hong Kong’s golden age. The expected decay from regional hotspot, cosmopolitan cultural centre, to nothing more than a shell of itself, a forgotten kingdom of majesty and wonder. It’s identity in crisis, it’s beautiful exterior disheveled and ultimately discarded. The uncertain future mirroring the events taking place on screen on a micro/macro comparison. Time is unkind, the shifting geopolitical landscape even more so. And the effect on its population starting to take hold. Knowing that there is no future to hold on to and that anything relating to actual hope for Hong Kong is all but lost.

The privilege of hope is something that many of us take for granted. Being in situations where our actions can affect our outcomes in a more positive way. From the smallest degree to a more broad collective. We live with hope that things can change, from top to bottom. Even if morally a few lines will be crossed that elusive difference that can create hope towards tangible progress, and betterment. Unfortunately not everyone has the right to hope, to dream, to desire something better for themselves and beyond, and where they go from there is the slipperiest of slopes.