Back to the Past (尋秦記, Jack Lai & Ng Yuen-Fai, 2025)

Can history be changed, and if it can, should it be? In a way, Jack Lai & Ng Yuen-Fai’s Back to the Past (尋秦記) is an attempt to change history in itself in that it’s a long-awaited sequel to a television series that concluded more than 20 years ago. A passion project from star Louis Koo, the film opens in contemporary Hong Kong where the inventor of the time machine that sent Hong Siu-lung back in time to witness the ascension of the Qin emperor is released from being “wrongfully imprisoned” for attempting to change history.

Lung (Louis Koo) seems to have told those back in the Qin Dynasty that he came from a mysterious “hometown” . He’s now estranged from his former pupil, Qin Emperor Poon (Raymond Lam), after becoming disillusioned with his despotic rule. It seems that Lung’s inability to return to the present due to a broken amulet somehow contributed to Ken (Michael Miu) getting sent to prison. Now he’s out, he’s sending himself back to the past because, for otherwise unexplained reasons, he wants to become the Qin emperor himself to prove that it is possible to change history after all. Though it is apparently still 2025 in contemporary Hong Kong, Ken and his team have access to a lot of futuristic gadgets like metal discs that can suddenly transform into motorcycles, transparent holographic communication devices, and a headset that can give you the appearance of another person.

Thus Lung is a man doubly trapped in the past in that he has no way of knowing how the society developed in the years since he left. He’s essentially fighting a war on two fronts as he’s ambushed by Ken’s team, some of whom are only there to loot “ancient antiques”, while in fear of his life from Poon who blows hot and cold over wanting to kill him as a potential traitor. The TV series had ended on a cliff hanger in which Lung’s son Bowie changed his name to “Yu”, meaning eagle, but also giving him the name of the warlord who overthrew the Qin emperor but ended up becoming a dictator himself.

The incongruity of Qin Dynasty warriors facing off against Ken’s ultramodern kit with bows and arrows is indeed fascinating, though the puzzling lack of confusion among Lung’s friends and family is possibly explained away by having seen various other odd things from Lung’s “hometown” in the past. No one is very surprised when he puts on his future clothes either, while the bun clip hair extension one of his wives made him wear gets dropped pretty quickly. Aside from the clash of eras, there’s also a commentary on the nature of family as is perhaps expected for a (Western) New Year movie. Ken is given the opportunity to trade his captured daughter for Lung’s captured wife, but refuses, insisting that he only wants the Qin emperor. When one of his men is killed, Lung tells Poon that he won’t help him any more so he’ll have to make his own way to back to the palace. His wives, however, tell him that Poon is still family even if he did turn a bit evil, and after all he risked his life to save Bowie, so it would be mean to leave him behind.

Poon is the spiritual son who has disappointed his father, Lung by turning to the dark side but Lung can never quite give up on him while as much as he bangs on about having Lung killed, Poon can’t bring himself to do it either and seems to still want Lung’s approval just not as much as absolute power. Trapped in the past, Lung has come to realise that it’s family that’s important so it doesn’t really matter where you are as long as you’re all together. A tacked on “alternate ending” sells the New Year theme with the entirety of the Qin Dynasty cast being beamed to 2025 to enjoy some nice food and a fireworks display all together as a family after which Lung returns to the past and says he’ll never come back to the future. It’s tempting to read his declaration as an expression of the nostalgia inherent in the premise, that Lung wants to go back to an earlier time when things weren’t as complicated as they are now even if he’s still living under an oppressive regime. But at the same time, history can’t necessarily be reclaimed in that way and even for him things have moved on, though of course for those in the present it is still possible to change “history” and perhaps more difficult to do so if you can’t let go of an idealised past.


Trailer (English subtitles)

Paradox (殺破狼・貪狼, Wilson Yip, 2017)

paradox posterLouis Koo, possibly the hardest working actor in Hong Kong, has played his fair share of heroic (and not so heroic) cops but you’d be hard pushed to describe him as an action star. Proving nothing if not his dedication, Koo gives it his all as the lead in Paradox (殺破狼・貪狼), the latest in the SPL franchise directed by Ip Man’s Wilson Yip. Yip also directed the first in the series but stepped away for the second, though there is no narrative continuity with any of the films and, confusingly enough, the SPL tag seems to have been dropped from the international title altogether. In any case, what Paradox shares with instalments one and two is a series of intensely kinetic action scenes built around a storm of three incompatible personality types coupled with a quest narrative as Koo searches for clues in the disappearance of his 16 year old daughter.

Yip begins the film inside the memories of Hong Kong cop Lee Chung-Chi (Louis Koo) as he remembers the golden time when his daughter was young and worshipped her dad, crawling into his bed in the morning with a video camera ready for a whole day of birthday fun. Lee buys a cute a silver bracelet with a teddy bear charm but it’s the 16 year old Wing-Chi (Hanna Chan) he gives it to. Lee and his daughter are in a restaurant, not at home, and the air between them is tense. A boy turns up and Wing-Chi introduces him as her boyfriend but if Lee is annoyed things are about to get worse. The pair want to get married because Wing-Chi wants “to keep the baby”. Lee barely reacts save for abruptly stepping away from the table. When he returns he seems as if he’s composed himself, but in reality he has already made a catastrophic error of judgement which will force his daughter away from him.

Wing-Chi goes to Thailand to visit a friend and disappears. Lee goes to look for her, breaking out his best investigator skills and teaming up with local cop Chui Kit (Wu Yue) who is soon to be a father himself, but what he finds there leads him onto a dark path of paternal guilt, regret, and suffering whilst wading through the corruption and cruelty of the Thai underworld.

Though the narrative is, in a sense, unimportant, Yip homes in on the nature of fatherhood and the sometimes difficult or conflicted position a father finds himself in when trying to protect his child. Lee may think he’s “doing the right thing” when he clamps down on his teenage daughter’s plans to start a family of her own way ahead of schedule, but then again perhaps this was not his decision to make and ruining three lives to suit himself is nothing more than selfishness masquerading as love. It is his own actions which send his daughter into the path of danger, and then later decide her fate on a split second decision.

Later, Kit’s father-in-law (Vithaya Pansringarm) faces a similar dilemma when he’s threatened by government big wigs and fears his own daughter (and unborn grandchild) may be in danger if he does not play along. Lee’s quest to find Wing-Chi runs in parallel with that of the local mayor to win re-election, only the mayor has a bad heart which causes him to collapse before an important rally. Shady fixer Cheng (Gordon Lam) decides the mayor needs a heart transplant (seemingly unaware of the complexity of the operation and the time needed for recovery) which all links back to a dodgy American ex-pat (Chris Collins) who operates a large scale meat factory as a front for illegal organ trafficking.

The stories of Kit and Lee are linked by the curious use of the classic Chinese pop song The Moon Represents My Heart made famous by Teresa Teng. The song with its constant references to the “heart” which is also visually represented by the cheerful cards around the mayor’s bed perhaps over does things in the metaphor stakes but does its best to tug at the heartstrings in its insistence on a fathomless love in this case of fathers for their children. Koo’s rage only intensifies the more desperate he becomes as his quest hits continual dead ends punctuated by the discovery of various unpleasant characters lurking not just in the backstreets but in the police stations and political institutions of Pattaya.

The action scenes are visceral and kinetic though Koo makes the most impact when acting with stone cold efficiency, leaving the most memorable sequences to rising star Wu and Tony Jaa whose extremely brief appearance as a psychic / extremely buddhist cop may disappoint those deceived by his top billing into expecting his role to be more than a cameo. Nevertheless, Paradox delivers what it promised in Koo’s unexpected metamorphosis into an ultra cool action star whilst sending his moody cop on a dark journey of the soul as he confronts the depths of his own complicity in the corruption which is consuming him.


Screened as the opening film of Creative Visions: Hong Kong Cinema 1997 – 2017

Original trailer (English subtitles)

Co-stars Louis Koo and Wu Yue recorded a new version of The Moon Represents My Heart especially for the film

Teresa Teng’s The Moon Represents My Heart