Every March, like clockwork, he would bring over a film festival booklet, and we’d sit together to pick the films we wanted to see.
The process was both simple and ceremonious. We’d first mark all the films that caught our interest, then carefully plan our schedule around the screening times and locations. With experience, we learned to check online to see which films were already slated for general release in Hong Kong—those, of course, could wait. Some films we watched together, while others he’d insist on watching alone, fearing they might be too much for me. Cold Fish by Sion Sono was one such film.
On the day tickets went on sale, I’d be at the box office right on time, armed with a list of film codes, reading them out one by one to the cashier. Then I’d return home with a tall stack of tickets, utterly delighted. Student prices were wonderfully generous, and we could afford to watch as many films as we liked without guilt.
One of my favourites from those years was Seven Psychopaths. As the title suggests, it’s a film about seven madmen.
The opening scene left me utterly stunned. Two men, engaged in absurd small talk, are abruptly shot dead by a dual-wielding gunman—the first psychopath. The second scene hit just as hard: an old man had spent over two decades tracking the man who murdered his daughter. When he finally cornered the killer, the man slit his own throat, declaring he’d rather face the old man in hell than on earth. But as the killer entered hell, he found the old man already there, watching and waiting. Then the old man slit his throat too, chasing him even into the afterlife.
As the film unfolds, the remaining psychopaths are introduced one by one: a Vietnamese man dressed as a priest, proclaiming the Vietnam War isn’t over; a middle-aged man and his girlfriend who devise bizarre, deadly schemes together; and a professional dog-napper. The final psychopath is none other than Marty, the struggling screenwriter (played by Colin Farrell), whose task is to write a story about these very characters.
I won’t spoil the rest, but I will say the film only grows more unhinged as it progresses. The plot twists and visual storytelling are meticulously crafted, even when they seem absurd. The dialogue is sharp, laced with biting commentary on politics, religion, and Hollywood itself. For me, Seven Psychopaths is a masterfully crafted cult film, with faint echoes of Tarantino (perhaps because of Christopher Walken?).
Online reviews for the film were mixed, but I believe it’s worth watching. Whether you’re looking for laughs, shocking violence, or wildly creative murder scenes, this film has something to offer. What I loved most was its humour—a kind of subtle, understated wit that never overplayed its hand.
"You didn’t think I was what? Serious? You think I’m not serious just because I carry a rabbit?"
Here’s Common People by Pulp—a song for the mad ones.
