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"Another Asian film?" my friend Garth asked somewhat exasperatedly as I mentioned what I was reviewing this week. Would you rather I give you ten reasons not to see worthless Hollywood commodities like The Wedding Planner, Hannibal, and Valentine? Or should I waste valuable newsprint on childish fare like Saving Silverman, Head Over Heels, and Sugar and Spice? Yes, those six movies dominate tv's commercial interludes, but that doesn't mean that anyone should take the time to read about them much less write a review of them. But in case you were wondering: Hannibal is unbelievably revolting, The Wedding Planner is insipid, and life is far too short to see any of the other four.

Good. Now that we've taken care of that, we can turn our attention to something genuinely worthwhile. The resurgence of Asian cinema in the last several years is undeniably the most important trend in cinema today. The Iranian renaissance that started in the early-'90s, the emergence of vital filmmakers in Korea and Taiwan, the maturation of Chinese and Hong Kong directors, and the continuing growth of Japanese cinema has given world audiences some of the most compelling and fascinating movies in recent memory.

Chicago audiences have been particularly blessed in the last two months, as we've seen masterworks like The Wind Will Carry Us, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, and Chunhyang, along with exciting fare such as Taboo, Nowhere to Hide, and now In the Mood for Love, which opens this Friday at the Landmark Cinema.

In the Mood for Love is Hong Kong director Wong Kar-wai's latest meditation on the transience of amour. Starring two of Hong Kong's most recognizable actors, Tony Leung (Chungking Express) and Maggie Cheung (Irma Vep), the film is gorgeous and moving.

Mood is set in 1962. The movie opens with Chow Mo-wan (Leung) and Su Li-zhen (Cheung) coincidentally moving into adjoining apartments on the same day. The apartments are actually no more than single rooms in other peoples' apartments, but in space-starved Hong Kong they're happy for what they can get.

Though both Chow and Su are married, we conspicuously never see their spouses. They're often traveling on "business," leaving our protagonists alone for long stretches. Being in similar straits, Chow and Su turn to each other for companionship. Simple chats lead to dinners which lead to walks which lead to . . . Actually, it's never quite clear where their relationship is heading.

The film focuses on the difficulty of love when you have to be discreet, and often the audience is treated like one of the prying neighbors. We catch glimpses of their conversations but never the whole thing. We see their hands brush against each other but can't tell whether it was accidental or a sign of affection.

Similarly, the movie's narrative is intentionally elusive. How much time has passed? What's happening behind that closed door? What is that character feeling? Audiences might have difficulty following the story at first (especially if they're used to Hollywood's incredible lack of subtlety), but careful viewing will reap rich rewards. For as you're drawn more and more into Chow and Su's lives, you start noticing their small gestures, their clipped sentences, their subtle expressions. Their emotions become your emotions. You become enmeshed in their sense of loss and attraction.

Enormous credit has to go to Leung and Cheung, who are two of the finest actors making movies today. Cheung has the showier role, but it's Leung's quiet reserve that has stayed with me since I first saw In the Mood for Love. His overwhelming propriety conflicts with his growing desire, and yet Leung communicates all of this in barely perceptible but ultimately powerful ways.

That's not to say Cheung doesn't hold her own, but her feelings resonate in her carriage and figure--the tilt of her shoulder, the arch of her back, the way she leans at the hips. It's no coincidence (or cliche) that the man in In the Mood for Love expresses himself through his stricture while the woman communicates through her curves. That the two "lovers" sometimes can't understand each other is seen as inevitable and yet still tragic.

Complementing these physical styles are some of the most breathtaking costumes you're likely to see this year. William Chang Suk-ping's designs, particularly Maggie Cheung's high-necked dresses, are a wonder to behold. Both beautiful and allusive, they are a perfect marriage of form and style. 

And we can't forget Wong Kar-wai, whose films of love (Chungking Express, Fallen Angels) are both distinctly Chinese and universal. Chinese in how they deal with the social and economic realities of Hong Kong, universal in how they capture the joys and frustrations of romantic relationships. Again, Wong Kar-wai uses recurring music to particularly good use. In Chungking Express, it was the unforgettable "California Dreamin';" here, it's a Spanish-language version of Nat King Cole's "Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps."

The closing line in Hannibal goes, "It's always important to try new things." While I appreciate little in that otherwise despicable movie, I certainly agree with that final sentiment. I encourage you to ignore the old, familiar tripe Hollywood is serving these days; instead, get out and explore something new. In the Mood for Love is a fine place to start. 

J. Robert Parks 2/11/2001