PATRICK TAM
BY
Samm Deighan
An interview with the legendary Hong Kong New Wave director.
My Heart Is That Eternal Rose plays at Metrograph from Friday, March 22.
An icon of the Hong Kong New Wave, Patrick Tam’s work as a filmmaker is essential to understanding the entire movement itself, as well as much cinema coming from the region today. Tam got his start working for Shaw Brothers’ TVB television studio in the year of its genesis, 1967—a time when Hong Kong was undergoing major cultural changes, set in motion by a wave of radical protests against the British colonial government. He gained experience in various roles with the studio, where producers and executives were unusually encouraging of younger filmmakers to explore their creative impulses, including a stint in San Francisco in the mid-’70s, sponsored by TVB, studying cinema—an experience that is directly reflected in his sophomore feature, the haunting melodrama-cum-thriller Love Massacre (1981).
Tam’s films, like those of his New Wave colleagues Tsui Hark and Ann Hui, boldly blend popular and more inscrutable elements; it is not out of place for a scene of neon-lit gangster violence to precede a dreamy, surreal sequence of tortured, passionate yearning between two teens. This is particularly true of Tam’s work in the ’80s. The run of seven unforgettable films that he helmed in this period operate within specific genres (wuxia, romantic comedy, thriller, crime film, and so on) but transcend their genre frameworks, thanks to Tam’s unique, arresting sense of style. His films are so striking—and difficult to define—partly because they are embedded with subtle references to everything from pop culture and the French New Wave, to traditional Chinese art forms and postmodern painting and visual art. Tam’s watershed works like My Heart Is That Eternal Rose (1989)—which focuses on a tragic love triangle between a gangster’s girlfriend (Joey Wong), the young Triad brother devoted to her (Tony Leung Chiu-wai), and an assassin for hire (Kenny Bee)—are narratively complex, exploring social issues such as the lives of women, dynamics within romantic relationships, gender roles, and sexuality. Within Tam’s films, love and desire, particularly repressed or unrequited, often function as a pressure cooker, leading to explosive acts of violence.
Tam’s legacy includes his influence on a new generation of directors in Hong Kong. He mentored a young Wong Kar-wai, whose script for Final Victory (1987) Tam directed, and whose films like As Tears Go By (1988), with their highly stylized melodramatic flourishes and focus on romantic longing, bear an obvious debt to Tam. Tam also served as editor on Wong’s Days of Being Wild (1990) and Ashes of Time (1994), as well as on Johnnie To’s Election (2005), before helming After This Our Exile (2006), Tam’s penultimate directorial effort before a 14-year hiatus (he returned to directing in 2020 with a segment in the anthology Septet: The Story of Hong Kong). Today, Tam’s importance is undeniable, and his recently restored masterpieces like My Heart Is That Eternal Rose and the erotic youth rebellion drama Nomad (1982) remain vital, deeply moving works of cinema.—Samm Deighan
My Heart Is That Eternal Rose (1989)
SAMM DEIGHAN: From your debut film, the period-set wuxia The Sword (1980), to a contemporary drama like After This Our Exile, your filmography covers such a wide range of genres, rarely returning to the same well twice. Is there a genre that you consider your favorite to work in?
PATRICK TAM: My choice of genre comes solely from the demand of the narrative context of the film. It is a secondary consideration. Of course, given the tradition of that particular genre, I will try to experiment with it, in the hope of injecting new elements, without affecting the narrative. I do not have a favorite genre but I can say that science fiction is the one I like least. Maybe the musical is what I would like to try out in future, using it for a subject like Carmen, and filming it in Cuba.
SD: If there is one genre element that recurs most throughout your filmography, it is romantic melodrama, and love triangles are especially important narrative structures in many of your films, from The Sword to Nomad, Burning Snow (1988), and, of course, My Heart is That Eternal Rose. What drew you to the love triangle dynamic?
PT: As the saying goes, drama is conflict. For me, there is no greater or more intense drama than the conflict of a love triangle, with the clashes of desires, egos, and emotions. The conflict between two people, whether in the context of love, personal pursuit, or different points of view can, of course, also create drama, but it will never be as intense and complex as a love triangle between three people. Love always stays closest to the human hearts, and the need for it creates all kinds of troubles and tensions.
Nomad (1982)
SD: The romantic relationships throughout your films also function differently because of your heroines, especially in films like Nomad, Cherie (1984), Final Victory, and Burning Snow. Whether they are rebellious, defiant, resilient, or openly radical, there is such a range of female characters throughout your work.
PT: I have always found strong female characters interesting and fascinating, and would like to stay closer to them in a narrative context, for women are much more sensitive and sophisticated than men, and capable of generating much deeper emotions and greater dramatic intensities.
SD: Though it would be difficult to choose one favorite, Pat Ha’s character Kathy from Nomad is something special to me. She has such a free, defiant, yet joyful sexuality that she shares with two partners, Kent Tong’s pool lifeguard Pong and Yung Sai-kit’s Japanese Red Army defector. Did you have much trouble with producers or censors considering some of the explicit sexuality in this film?
PT: Yes, Pat Ha is truly remarkable in her portrayal of Kathy, bringing her alive in a memorable debut performance. Nomad was unfairly stopped from screenings in cinemas upon its first release due to complaints by a small group of educators, even though it had already passed censorship. More cuts needed to be made regarding the love scenes before the film could be released again. This is totally outrageous. Fortunately, I was able to restore Nomad to its original full version last year with the help of its present distributor Mei Ah, 40 years after its original release.
SD: Similarly, the subtext of queer sexuality with Leslie Cheung’s equally wonderful but much more vulnerable character in Nomad is unusual for the time period. How were these elements treated in the script?
PT: The four main characters in Nomad represent young people from different classes, and the gentle image and refined nature of Leslie’s character is used to contrast that of the more grass-rooted and tough Tong. Queer sexuality is not particularly emphasized in the film but remains a subtle possibility between these four young people, given their free spirit and the communal feeling that they have opted for, which has bound them together.
My Heart Is That Eternal Rose (1989)
SD: There was a minor wave of Hong Kong New Wave directors experimenting with horror films, like Tsui Hark’s The Butterfly Murders (1979), in a way that felt different from the Shaw Brothers early forays into more supernatural horror. What drew you to your own exploration of the horror genre with Love Massacre?
PT: I never saw or treated Love Massacre as a film belonging to the horror genre. It’s about desire unfulfilled, or love unrequited, which might be the cause of madness and violence for a person. The violence that broke out in the film’s second half is only a logical development for the male character who is trapped in his own obsessions.
SD: All your films have a striking sense of style, and especially color, which often feels like a character of its own. This is particularly true of Love Massacre, Nomad, and My Heart is That Eternal Rose. In terms of your use of color, what were your influences, and were there any technical challenges incorporating these on set?
PT: The “form” of a film is as crucial as its “content.” Content and form always go together and can never be separated. They are, like flesh and blood, making the film’s “body” whole. It is not only what you say that is important but how you say it. This is where form and style come in. Colors are always fascinating, and pleasing to the eye, bringing forth intense emotions in the viewer. I admire and have a fondness for the works of Piet Mondrian, Mark Rothko, R.B. Kitaj, David Hockney, Valerio Adami, and Leonardo Cremonini, though I wouldn’t consider them to be influences.
SD: Your films have a particularly poetic, dreamlike quality, partly due to the shifts in tone and genre, the unexpected narrative elements that often emerge, and techniques like slow-motion and step-printing. Was this quality always intentional, pre-planned in the script, or did it emerge later when working with collaborators like cinematographer David Chung?
PT: What poetic or dreamlike quality there is in my films was not there in the script. It only came afterwards in the visualization process, when I tried to explore and find the right kind of tone, mood, tempo, and images for each film. As I said, form and content are always one, hence, the importance I gave to the style of a film. Actually, the cinematographer who has collaborated with me most is Bill Wong, both in my films and my television works.
SD: How do you feel about your films and their legacy—especially those being recently restored and released like Nomad and My Heart is That Eternal Rose, all these years later?
PT: To make films is to create memories. My films are part of my memories. They only live as memories for me. Though they are already quite faraway, Nomad remains closest to my heart.
Samm Deighan is a writer, film historian, special features producer for Vinegar Syndrome, and co-host of the Twitch of the Death Nerve podcast.
Days of Being Wild (1990), dir. Wong Kar-wai
