Pat (Maggie Li Lin-lin) and Angie (Patra Au Ga-man) are a devoted lesbian couple in modern-day Hong Kong. They have been together for 40 years, in their 60s, and have become wealthy from their textile factory business. Their comfortable life unravels as they prepare for the mid-autumn festival, waking up in a spacious private apartment, having a humble breakfast of Chinese congee and deep-fried bread sticks, going to the wet market to get fresh crabs and fish from their regular vendors, buying Birds of Paradise flowers from their florist lesbian couple friends Lin (Li Lai Ha) and Dee (Gia Yu Yuk Wah). Pat and Angie are celebrating with a dinner feast with Pat’s less privileged extended family: her older brother, Shing (Tai Bo) and his wife Mei (Hui So Ying), having lost their diner business a few years back, together with their grown-up children, discontented housewife Fanny (Fish Liew Chi Yu) and Uber-driver Victor (Leung Chung Hang). Fanny is with her cranky husband, Sum (Lai Chai Ming), and their two children, while Victor brings in his girlfriend, Kitty (Rachel Leung Yung Ting). It is a perfect picture of family togetherness with full acceptance of Pat and Angie’s relationship, although unmarried, due to Hong Kong’s restrictive laws on same-sex partnerships. This all ends abruptly with Pat’s sudden demise that night.
The first thing that hits you after watching Yeung’s drama about inheritance claims and injustice for same-sex partners is that it is calm, never hysterical, despite the quagmire of legalese that sinks the main character into frustration and dismay. Credit should be given to Yeung’s legal background for the film’s exploration of laws and limitations, and the beauty of his writing and direction is that it is still organic and naturalistic in the emotional arc of the characters, especially Angie, as she is confronted with legal barriers and struggles since Pat died without a will, making the legal executor of her assets her next-of-kin brother Shing, not Angie.
The film could have been straightforward black-and-white in treatment, with the antagonist being Pat’s extended family, forcefully taking protagonist Angie’s rightful inheritance based on Hong Kong laws. But it paints elements of grey and is more restrained and tender than that. There are no shouting matches, just serene discussions. The attempts to gain from the legal loopholes that benefit Shing and his family are incremental. First, they postpone the discussion of Angie’s rights to the property, then eventually propose to evict her to accommodate Victor and Kitty, who need to settle as they are getting married. However, Shing’s portrait as an opportunistic relative is re-examined when Angie secretly sees him weeping as he visits Pat’s niche in the columbarium. There are also separate irony-filled conversations between Angie with Victor and Fanny as both profess their loyalty to Angie but ultimately propose or arrange options for her to leave the house.
Yeung also explores each character’s life situation to understand their motivations. Angie still supports her parents, who are in denial of her lesbian relationship, and having the house she and Pat shared for 30 years still means so much to her with all the memories and security it holds. The hardships of the extended family are subtly shown in individual scenes: Shing slavishly works as a newly employed night-shift parking attendant, Mei smokes in frustration as a hotel housekeeper, Fanny is in decrepit living conditions with her two kids and struggling husband and Uber driver Victor and girlfriend Kitty settling for a substandard windowless apartment in Hong Kong’s overpriced real estate market. Their disadvantaged lives are reflected in run-down homes and massive highrise rental housing. In short, they badly need Pat’s money.
In terms of style, the film should be praised for its nuanced inferences. Yeung subtly plants powerful symbolism in metaphors meshed through the scenes. Details like the orange goldfish paper decor for the mid-autumn festival celebrate the importance of wealth, reinforced when Angie buys an actual goldfish as a gift to Pat’s grandchild. Together with moments of mortality, such as the night of Pat’s death and the presence of Pat’s urn in the house, these solemn scenes are accentuated by the metro train passing by in the background, perhaps symbolising death as a journey from the fleeting nature of life.
The film ultimately centres around Angie as she fights for two crucial decisions: scattering Pat’s ashes in the ocean and keeping the property they live in. The first challenge is thwarted by Chinese customs and traditions. The second is contested by Hong Kong’s legal system. Both do not recognise her as a lawful partner despite the apparent evidence. It is a challenge that has been the heart of this delicate drama that would hopefully resonate not only in Hong Kong but universally as well.
In the enigmatic introspection of Kei Ishikawa’s A MAN, the boundaries of identity blur with the essence of truth, subjecting itself to endless scrutiny. Adapted from Keiichiro Hirano’s novel, Ishikawa artfully delves deep into self-discovery that challenges our perceptions of ourselves and others.
Here are my reviews of blockbusters that graced Sydney cinemas during this autumn-winter period — all escapist, mega-budgeted, CGI-heavy, star-studded behemoths with an endless credit roll. These are films you watch on the big screen complete with surround sound plus popcorn and soda… treat yourself to these guilty pleasures!
