You notice things if you pay attention
- Fiona Craughwell
- Jan 23, 2022
- 4 min read
Thanks to the input of others, I have finally come up with a name for this section, so welcome to Short Cut. For those of you that missed the first post, this is a section where I pick a scene that is dear to me and break it down. There may be some room in the future to discuss scenes I don’t like, but we will see what the future has in store for us.
In case I haven’t made it blatantly clear by now, In The Mood For Love is hands down one of my all-time favourite films. It provided one of those few precious and cherished moments where I sat in genuine awe and couldn't believe what was unfolding before my eyes. This movie has had a lasting impression on me. This is because not only is it incredibly touching, original and moving, but also because of how every element of the film comes together so flawlessly to create a genuine masterpiece of cinema.

The scene I will be discussing is only 2 minutes and 24 seconds in length, but it is a moment of magnificence. It is perfect because the whole essence of the film is felt here. If you never watch this film in its entirety, you will know what it's about and, more importantly, its main feeling from just these short few minutes.
I almost want to provide no context to this film to not ruin it for anyone who hasn’t seen it, so let's say that something breeds between our two protagonists: neighbours Chow Mo-wan and Su Li-zhen. Something deeper than tension, a connection, a desire. We see Su Li-zhen head down to a busy street with a flask to fetch dinner or noodles. This is where our scene both begins and ends.
I have mentioned this in another post, but I have developed a slight obsession with space (not outer, but literal space, like a room) while studying for my Master's degree. The space in which this scene takes place is a series of narrow alleyways. One just leads into another. The alleyways are moody, dark and quiet, as though nobody else exists, and the streets they lead onto are frantic and filled with life. Throughout the whole film, our characters seem to dwell in these claustrophobic spaces, and for a good reason, this is the only way our protagonists, who are dying to be together, can feel some intimacy. Cramped conditions force their bodies together. They touch the wall the other has leaned on as though to in some way also touches them. In this scene, director Wong Kar-wai produces a deep sense of longing and hope, a longing to be close to each other and hope that they have timed their journey for noodles at just the right time to meet the other coming around the corner. So effortless and yet so desperate at the same time.

One feature of the scene I want to discuss first is the music and pacing. The music is slow with long notes as the undercurrent but also features pacing, almost slightly hurried, notes above the base notes. It’s almost as though these hurried notes are our protagonists' heartbeats in anticipation of possibly meeting each other. These more extended notes are their deepest emotions, their melancholy, the weight of all these difficult emotions that are constantly flowing through them, paired with the more urgent and straightforward emotions going on in their hearts.
The fact that this scene is almost totally in slow motion is done not only for the viewers but also to reflect the characters. For us, slow motion allows us to look, to take in more detail. It gives us time to think not just about what we are seeing and hearing, but also about what is going on more profound than what is happening in their heads. For our characters, it is a reflection of themselves. We are voyeurs. We have been allowed into their minds, into their worlds. There is so much running through their minds, occupying their thoughts, yet time moves in slow motion. Every step is cautious. The characters have to time them just right to achieve their goal. They move through what is very clearly a busy street, but time means nothing to either of them. The longing inside them is expressed in the elongation of time.
It is only towards the end of this scene that time begins to speed up again, and we return to the real world, but, by this stage, it is a different day and a different time, showing us that this is becoming a regular thing so that both characters can see each other.

A reason we feel like such voyeurs and how the film manages to express its deep sense of intimacy is down to the framing and cinematography as well as its use of space. This film tells its story through images. In this regard, it is true cinema. Every frame in this film could be considered a work of art, so, as you can imagine, when it is all put together, it is truly breathtaking.
Our protagonists live in literal tight spaces, and the camera chooses to make them even smaller, focusing on the smallest of elements like a flask, a hand or a shadow of someone's side profile. The outside world is visible but never the main focus. It is blurred or just not distinctive enough. The camera always shows us the main focus, which is this small world of the characters filled with immense, complex feelings. Chow Mo-wan and Su Li-zhen crave these intimate spaces as it is the only way to achieve closeness.
What does this scene do for the story? This scene is the story. It is the whole premise of the film. As with any truly great film, every element works together effortlessly. It is, however, rare that an entire film's sensibility can be felt in less than three minutes. We can feel the longing between them. We understand why they touch the wall, why they watch the pace of their steps. While their expressions look calm as they meet around a corner, inside their hearts are leaping, and their relationship is becoming ever more complicated and yet, at its core, is so simple.
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