As with many other viewers who commented here, I have to report a little baffled by the film's ungodly reputation as a virulent, nasty shocker. I was likely treated to the cut Hong Kong version but it's easy to spot out the trimmings: various scenes of our titular serial killer dissecting with a scalpel his deceased victims. We see a breast being surgically removed and stored in a jar. Incisions across different body parts. There is repeated strangulation and a tame bout of necrophilia as depraved closure. Presumably these are extended in the uncut version for added effect.
The point remains however: this is nothing like say The Untold Story if that's what you're looking for. Simon Yam exudes a petulant insanity that veers closer to clingy and pathetic than Anthony Wong's brutal monstrousness. And a lot of the film, given Danny Lee's daft involvement, is another awkwardly comedic policier about unorthodox cops matching the killer in senseless violence.
So if you are in it for brutality's sake, you will know where to find it elsewhere. But if you have cinematic stakes in the films you watch and moreover have been developing an aesthetically preoccupied eye, you may be strangely fulfilled.
Our killer is a night shift taxi driver and every night seems to rain hard, which means we get a lot of latenight city blues played on nocturnal asphalt.
The kills are a treat to watch: inside the car parked nowhere and every glass panel drenched with rain and illuminating flashes from faraway neon, hands and bodies convulsing as though a sexual sauna is going on.
And back in the killer's apartment, rays of light piercing through calligraphy painted on a blue wall.
And once the last victim makes a getaway, a frantic chase through pouring rain across a park like straight from a giallo.
Everything that has to do with violence and dying is sensual blues, purely stylized in a way that is erotic to watch. In film terms, this will remind you of the rain-soaked/ neon-bled yakuza films of Takashi Ishii in Japan. A bit of 80's Mann and Wong Kar Wai, minus too much urbane poetry.
So as far as gruesome nastiness goes, this is Category II at best. Watch as a stylized crime flick.
The point remains however: this is nothing like say The Untold Story if that's what you're looking for. Simon Yam exudes a petulant insanity that veers closer to clingy and pathetic than Anthony Wong's brutal monstrousness. And a lot of the film, given Danny Lee's daft involvement, is another awkwardly comedic policier about unorthodox cops matching the killer in senseless violence.
So if you are in it for brutality's sake, you will know where to find it elsewhere. But if you have cinematic stakes in the films you watch and moreover have been developing an aesthetically preoccupied eye, you may be strangely fulfilled.
Our killer is a night shift taxi driver and every night seems to rain hard, which means we get a lot of latenight city blues played on nocturnal asphalt.
The kills are a treat to watch: inside the car parked nowhere and every glass panel drenched with rain and illuminating flashes from faraway neon, hands and bodies convulsing as though a sexual sauna is going on.
And back in the killer's apartment, rays of light piercing through calligraphy painted on a blue wall.
And once the last victim makes a getaway, a frantic chase through pouring rain across a park like straight from a giallo.
Everything that has to do with violence and dying is sensual blues, purely stylized in a way that is erotic to watch. In film terms, this will remind you of the rain-soaked/ neon-bled yakuza films of Takashi Ishii in Japan. A bit of 80's Mann and Wong Kar Wai, minus too much urbane poetry.
So as far as gruesome nastiness goes, this is Category II at best. Watch as a stylized crime flick.