Where the Wind Blows is a classic case of a genre clash (or crash) that never quite fully quenches one’s thirst for either. Initial excitement ensues as we enter the much beloved universe of world cinema; dying to sink our teeth into another Parasite or more to the tone of this, Infernal Affairs; yet despite a meaty narrative this fails to fulfill our appetites.
Following law enforcement officer Lui Lok, through the overtly detailed lens of corrupt practices within the police force, we quickly get to grips that Lui and his colleague Nam Kong have amassed influence here. Doing what the hell they want, when they want, – including chain smoking and busting out a tap dance every now and then. Lui’s initial strong sense of justice is put to the test as he experiences the rampant corruption first hand. Quickly he realises he’s going to need back up to gain power within the force to take control. Although Nam may appear to be a gentleman when not being so chivalrous, he’s secretly building an empire of corruption.
Together, they become the Chinese Chief Detectives of Hong Kong Island allowing them access to truly have control. Despite their successful partnership, Nam has been planning a hostile takeover of power and sees through Lui’s naivety. When Lui discovers Nam’s betrayal, he becomes determined to forcefully take back control from his former partner.
This near two-and-a-half-hour runtime relentlessly stumbles through the narrative here; stumble in every sense of the word as it’s difficult to keep up with what’s occurring to whom, at what point on the timeline here (and then a dance scene emerges throwing you off once again). The studenty flip back to black and white doesn’t bring anything to the table apart from the painfully obvious fact that those scenes are from the characters past. Alongside that trope, Where the Wind Blows focuses on all the wrong things. Shots linger a touch too long when setting the scene and director Philip Yung desperately tries to cram everything that ever happened to these characters in excruciating detail, allowing for seat shuffles and yawns far too quickly when digesting this feature. Cast members become lost in everything this is trying to achieve, resulting in a blur of performances and next to no standout stars.
By the by, this does looks gorgeous. Hats off to art direction and costume; the colour palette almost makes you want to be in the smoke-filled rooms – you can almost feel the sting on your eyes and the stench in your hair (praise the smoking ban). It’s apparent everyone is trying their best here and to some extent the highly stylised, arty nature keeps you engaged and somewhat confused when a theatre like demeanour surfaces with bizarre score choices, instrument playing, and dancing is interspersed between troops being bombed.
The message here becomes lost in convoluted story-telling and most probably censorship, yet one message hangs in the air – the war never ended.
