Latest news with #IntheMoodforLove
The Spinoff
26-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The Spinoff
What's so great about Dungeons & Dragons?
This Friday, The Spinoff launches Fury of the Small, a D&D narrative podcast. Today, one of the podcast's players remembers her first time at the table. I was in the thick of my Big Breakup. Anyone who has been through their own Big Breakup knows exactly what I mean. It's the one where it feels like life is leading one way and you're merrily skipping down the path then BAM. Life, whole new direction. Crying in strange places. Hallway. On the floor. In the bathroom. I think everyone has a breakup like that? Or maybe will? It's like a rite of passage. The one that changes you. My friends wrapped around me in ways I still to this day deeply appreciate. One of the true blessings of the end of that romantic love was the absolutely thunderous, deepening love I felt for my friends. There were movies (In the Mood for Love being one of them, which was a terrible choice after a breakup, but a stunning film all the same), drinking, retreats and then one friend suggested I join his… Dungeons and Dragons Campaign. Dungeon? Dragons? Campaign? Join? It's hard to remember the exact images it conjured for me but I had a sense I was about to put myself in a situation where I felt stupid, sweaty or irritated. Or worse – all three. I also had a feeling it was like some sort of real-life video game, and I am not a gamer. Not because I don't want to be, it just wasn't a part of my childhood. We weren't really even a TV household, so anything with a console felt way out of my scope. Like any good 90s kid I snuck in a few happy reps of Golden Eye and Prince of Persia at friends' houses, but even I knew that wasn't a well-balanced diet, so I didn't really have anything to lean on when entering this world. But, as is often the way after a breakup, I had a lot of energy for trying new things, a lot of spare time, and zero desire to be alone. My first character was named Contour. Super strong. Not very smart. Got bonus points whenever they went into a rage (post-breakup catharsis anyone?). Even in this fantasy realm, no character can be good at everything (humbling) so you sort of make trade-offs. Good at hiding and sneaking around but maybe not so good up close and personal in a fight. There is something poetic about the fact that, in my eyes at least, the game works best if you have a mix of characters who all have different skill sets and histories. Not super deep, I know, but it's still a nice thought. I made the character by chatting to my friend about the vibe I thought I might enjoy, using films, books, animation as a way to be like 'he's a bit like this or a bit like that' and then my (very helpful) friend helped me figure out what Class that character could be. There's lots of options: Fighter, Druid, Bard, Rogue etc. I get the sense some people do it differently, but saying 'I think I want to be part actual energy of rock, part Drax from Guardians of the Galaxy and part gentle shepherd' worked well for me. So. I'd created my character. Borrowed some dice. Then went to join the Campaign. My friend was the dungeon master (to my mind a combo of MC, the person who voices all the background extras and supporting actors in a film, a dad who's telling you a story, and tech support). Six of us sat around a table, my friend set up the world, narrator style. 'You're at the docks, you smell the salty sea spray…' I started meeting other characters and for the first time I shyly tried out my Contour voice and traits. Putting on a voice felt strange at first. I'm an actor so this is ridiculous, but somehow sitting around a table putting on a voice for no reason feels different, and not in a good way. Similarly, it's really the pits for me if I tell someone I'm an actor and they make a joke about wanting to see me do a monologue (no thank you). I don't like feeling like I need to put on a show in my downtime, BUT after a little while, as with most times hanging out with my friends, those feelings slipped away and I was babbling like a happy child, voice on, playing for fun. Then it was time to start rolling some dice. (We're really in the thick of the nerd stuff now.) Each time you want to do anything in the game – and I mean anything, the world is your oyster – you state what you want to do out loud. For example, 'I want to lift this boulder'. The DM then usually says something like 'well that's a strength check', because, well, it would take strength to do it. In front of you is a piece of paper (or laptop screen) which has all your character's skills written on it, things like Strength, Charisma, Performance, Deception and a number next to them representing how good you are at any one skill. In Dungeons & Dragons, most often you're rolling a 20-sided die. You combine what your character's natural ability is at something (maybe it's plus 2) with what's on the die (let's say 14). That means overall your character has a roll of 16 to try and lift the boulder. The Dungeon Master has a number, a fair one, in mind that you are trying to beat. Basically the higher the number the more likely you are to succeed and if you roll a 20 on the 20-sided die it's almost impossible for you to fail. If a friend in the game says 'I'm helping' – which is the equivalent of an '..and my axe!' – you might get extra pluses. Which is just lovely. That first proper game was a lot. Even so, there were enough moments of joy across that first 5-ish hour(!) game that made me very happy to be there. True silliness and creativity for no one but ourselves. In the game, through the form of smart storytelling it becomes clear there's a quest/objective. A wizard needs help finding an apple pie recipe. Why is the castle collapsing? Where is the dragon hiding? You know – relatable problems like that. And all the characters must work together to sort it out. Later that first night, my friend said something along the lines of, 'This will probably take a year or so to complete'. A YEAR? I mean who has a year! In what world would I still be sitting around a table playing an imaginary fantasy game in a YEAR. I'm sure you can see where this is going. I played that campaign, for not one, but TWO years. I sat around my friend's table through the seasons changing both outside (obviously) and also inside my friends' lives, eating snacks and rolling dice through the highs and lows. As the monthly catch-ups became a staple I realised I wanted more. I joined another campaign. I had two going at once. One finished, I added another. I played confident types, sneaky types, happy-go-lucky types, 'I cast a lot of magic spells' types. I'd create characters on a whim based on what I thought would be fun or a challenge and then spend the following months experimenting with this persona in the two-to-four hour games. I couldn't believe who I'd become. In hindsight, there were actually some big clues that I'd love it. I grew up on fantasy books. It's only now in my 30s I've finally admitted to myself that when I'm on the beach I don't want a rom com. I would much rather be reading Ursula K. Le Guin, Tamora Pierce, Diana Wynne Jones. It's the stone labyrinth mystery cave hidden under a cloak identity life for me. And then of course Carrie Fisher made me want to act. So yes, duh. Fantasy is for me. And this isn't even mentioning that my family loves all board, dice and card games (as I said, not a big TV family). So anything competitive you can play over a table is good. Even now my parents will still play at least two games of something on any given day (their current faves are Splendour and Yahtzee). There were things that did and still do make me nervous. Being slow. Fumbling dice. Not knowing what to do. And the voices… I love listening to other people, but it still takes me a good hour to sink in and I'm usually changing the voice for the first few games till I actually find something I like for the character. But there are other things that have taken me by surprise. I love the escapism. I love using my imagination. I love not looking at my phone. I love being in a room with dear friends for two hours laughing and not talking about work. Hell, I even love the snacks! Recently, it's become a delightful connection with my brother-in-law. As I was writing this I googled: What makes dungeons and dragons so popular. The internet replied with: What's so great about Dungeons and Dragons? Which if you ask me sounds a lot more salty than my original question, but the answers made sense nonetheless. D&D offers fun and educational benefits, including stress relief and mental health benefits. Breaking D&D rules can lead to memorable gameplay and encourage critical thinking. D&D can strengthen friendships and maintain connections, serving as more than just a game. I couldn't agree more. It's funny what you picture for yourself after a breakup. I'm not going to go into all the R-rated details of what I had in mind but suffice to say sitting around a table with sparkly dice yelling, 'Investigation check!! I want to investigate this goblin's cave!' was not it. Sure, D&D's not for everyone. In fact, I really thought it wasn't for me. Turns out I was wrong.
Time Out
30-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Time Out
10 movies to watch if you miss traveling in Thailand
1. The Man with the Golden Gun (1974) James Bond's showdown with Scaramanga did more than spark bullets. It shot Phang Nga Bay's limestone towers onto the world's radar. Officially Koh Khao Phing Kan, but the world knows it as James Bond Island. The film also captured Bangkok's rough-edged canal life in the '70s, throwing a high-speed chase into the middle of the city's humid, chaotic sprawl. 2. The Beach (2000) Leonardo DiCaprio stars in this adaptation of Alex Garland's cult novel, following backpackers hunting for the ultimate paradise on a secret Thai island. Maya Bay on Ko Phi Phi Le is the film's main backdrop, while Phuket brings the drama. Krabi also gets some screen time when DiCaprio takes the ferry from Bangkok to the island. His adventure continues in Khao Yai National Park, where we see the Haew Suwat Falls on the big Hollywood screen. 3. In the Mood for Love (2000) While set in 1960s Hong Kong, much of the film was actually shot in Bangkok. Where Surawong meets Charoen Krung, Tony Leung and Maggie Cheung's characters navigated this Bangkok intersection, mirroring their frustrating romance and impossible attraction under the city's moody glow. Two souls, caught in longing's grip, walked back to separate lives while something electric sparked between them. Against Charoen Krung's dim lights, the setting became visual poetry, amplifying the bittersweet ache of finding love at precisely the wrong moment. This slice of Bangkok transformed into the emotional canvas for one of cinema's most achingly beautiful tales of mistimed love. 4. Butterfly Man (2002) That moment when paradise becomes personal is what this film is about. As the film begins, we're dropped onto the sun-drenched shores of Koh Samui alongside a British backpacker who finds more than he can bargain for on a Thai island. Beyond the tourist brochure, this indie heartbreaker nails the traveller's sweet spot where holiday romance collides with cultural reality and messy human connections. Equal parts love story and cultural deep-dive, it's Thailand through eyes both fresh and flawed. Worth watching for the scenery alone but you might want to stay for what lies beneath. 5. Bangkok Dangerous (2008) Nicolas Cage, portraying a jaded hitman, prowls the streets of Bangkok, chasing a storyline where the city's frenetic pulse, with its steamy alleyways, chaotic markets and glittering skyscrapers, forms the backdrop to his brooding assassin. While the plot treads familiar hitman territory (the last job, moral awakening, unexpected romance), it's Bangkok itself that emerges as the true co-star. The camera hungrily captures the city's urban contrasts, from serene temples to feverish nightlife. 6. Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives (2010) Death comes knocking, but so do ghosts. Apichatpong Weerasethakul's Palme d'Or triumph is a hypnotic plunge into Thai mysticism that feels both ancient and fresh. In rural Thailand, kidney-failing Boonmee spends his final days with unexpected visitors: his deceased wife materialises at dinner while his long-lost son returns as a red-eyed monkey spirit. And yet, it feels almost casual. What unfolds isn't some horror show, but a meditation where the veil between worlds thins to transparency. The film stays with you like a half-remembered dream. 7. The Hangover Part II (2011) Two years after tearing up Vegas, the Wolfpack is back letting loose in Bangkok. Phil, Stu, Alan and Doug land in Thailand for Stu's wedding, but one wild night later, the groom is missing and their memories are fried. With a handful of absurd clues, they run through the city's temples, tattoo shops and Bangkok's maze-like backstreets, racing to fix the mess before the big day. Bangkok's wild energy feeds the Wolfpack's chaos, turning this trip into an even bigger wreck than the last. 8. Only God Forgives (2013) Ryan Gosling stalks Bangkok's neon-soaked concrete jungle as a boxing gym boss tangled up in criminal connections. When his mum rolls into town demanding payback for his brother's death, he dives headfirst into the city's back alleys and brutal underworld. This gritty neo-noir drags you through sweaty fight rings, sword swinging, seedy bars and blood-slick streets, where family ties snap under the weight of betrayal and Bangkok's chaos chews you up whole. 9. Tomorrow Never Dies (1997) After facing off in Koh Tapu back in The Man with the Golden Gun (1974), Bond is back on Thai soil but instead of postcard-perfect beaches, this time we're in Charoen Krung, Bang Rak. High-speed chases tear through Charoen Krung 37 while boats rip down the Khlong Phadung Krung Kasem and Khlong Maha Nak canals. It all comes to a head in Din Daeng where Michelle Yeoh's scene-stealing heroine links up with Britain's most famous spy. 10. Mechanic: Resurrection (2016) Three supposed accidents. One kidnapped girlfriend. A ticking clock on Laem Had beach, Koh Yao Yai. This paradise-turned-prison sees Jason Statham walking the knife-edge of island duality, where sun-drenched beaches conceal deadly intentions. As he hunts down three marked men, his arch-rival tightens the grip on the woman he loves. What unfolds is a lethal charade of calculated mishaps and vanishing time. The island's raw beauty collides with a brutal truth: only flawless execution will save her life. A Thai paradise island has never felt this perilous.
Independent Singapore
29-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Independent Singapore
Tony Leung and Chow Yun Fat reunited for director's birthday celebration
HONG KONG: As reported by VnExpress, iconic Hong Kong superstars Chow Yun Fat and Tony Leung made a rare public appearance to celebrate director Johnnie To's birthday. The Star reported that the party, held at a restaurant in Hong Kong's Central District , saw them both join Leung's wife, actress Carina Lau, for a memorable picture, which Lau later posted on her Instagram account. Photo: Instagram/Carina Lau Leung, Chow, and Lau acted together way back in 1985 in the police drama ' Police Cadet ', a nd Chow and Leung didn't team up in another movie until 1992, when they did the intense action flick, ' Hard Boiled '.That was the last time the two starred in a film together. Long friendship The gathering for To's birthday seemed like a blast. Actor Anthony Wong and singer-actress Sammi Cheng also attended the party. Lau also reflected on their long friendship by sharing a photo of herself, Leung, To, and To's wife, Wong Po Ling. In 1982, Leung, 63, debuted as an actor. He is considered as one of Asia's most renowned and internationally acclaimed actors. His partnerships with Wong Kar-wai are especially well-known. They worked in seven films together, including ' In the Mood for Love ,' for which he won the Cannes Film Festival's Best Actor prize. Humble beginnings Seventy-year-old Chow started from humble beginnings. Prior to joining the Hong Kong show business with TVB in 1974, Chow worked a variety of jobs, including shoeshine boy, office assistant, parcel delivery worker, hotel staff, and taxi driver. It was those TVB shows that made Chow a star. Think of hits like ' The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly ' and ' The Bund ' – everyone was watching them back then. Chow has had an incredible career, and he has the awards to prove it. He has snagged a couple of Golden Horse Awards for being the best actor and even three Hong Kong Film Awards. In 2023, they named him the Asian Filmmaker of the Year at the Busan Film Fest. He's only the second Hong Kong actor to get that, after Tony Leung. A big deal Lau, who's 60 now, started acting way back in 1984. She became a huge star pretty fast in the '80s with all those drama series everyone was watching. It was not just limited to local stuff. On top of all that movie fame, the international stuff with films like Wong Kar-wai's ' 2046 ' and the ' Infernal Affairs ' sequels put her on the map globally. She's a big deal! Oh, and something else interesting – back in 2008, she married Leung. Successful director At 17, To started his career as a messenger for TVB. He later went on to be an executive producer and director for TV shows starting in 1973. To began his career at age 17 as a messenger for TVB, later advancing to executive producer and director for TV shows starting in 1973. He made his debut as a film director in 1978, but he didn't stop working in television. In 1983, the director To actually helmed and helped write this super famous TV show called ' The Legend of the Condor Heroes .' Apparently, it was based on this martial arts book by Jin Yong—sounds pretty epic, right? Years later, in May 2011, he was even on the jury at the Cannes Film Festival! Then, his movie ' Life Without Principle ' was a big deal too—it was even picked to represent Hong Kong at the Oscars for Best Foreign Language Film.
New Indian Express
28-04-2025
- Entertainment
- New Indian Express
Painter Varad Bang's homage to Wong Kar-wai's In The Mood for Love is a curation of heartbreak
Auteur Wong Kar-wai's In the Mood for Love is about a great love and a great loss. The couple in the film is a Mr Chow, a journalist with slicked-back hair and sad eyes, and Mrs Chan, a secretary in stylish and fitted cheongsam dresses. The two meet across a passageway in a cramped apartment building in British Hong Kong of the '60s the day they both happen to move in; they eventually get curious about each other – something that is helped by the constant absence of their respective spouses. With time, they realise that their partners are having an affair – Mrs Chow with Mr Chan – but by then their own relationship, packed with silences, glances, things said and unsaid, is seen moving, scene by scene, into their little bubble. Till things to fall apart. The couple is cast in red as they come together to work on a script and there's a capture of the first stirrings of desire; the scenes are awash in green as their feelings develop and they acknowledge it; shades of yellow tinge the scenes of looking back. Young artist Varad Bang was mesmerised by the 'painterliness' of these scenes. Inspired by the film, Bang's paintings draw on the film, a treat for the eyes, and create the scenes anew in light and shadow, through selected interiors reminiscent of Vermeer—the Dutch painter is also an inspiration—and Wong Kar-wai's dimly lit Hong Kongscapes, but that could recall an urban setting anywhere where due to lack of time, moments of connection are rare, or fleeting, or cut short. Those paintings are currently hung at Delhi's Pristine Gallery, in an exhibition titled 'The Weight of Love' till May 11. Starting out Bang grew up in Aurangabad, and now lives in Pune. He came to art via architecture. He found it to be a discipline that was 'too structured'. Art helped soothe him, get him in a zone with 'no disturbance'. The idea that he could be a painter grew on him over some time while he tried out different things only to figure that art was his 'way of speaking with the world or with the people around me'. He went on to study art in Florence, where he produced figurative works, and studied the old masters. He also grew to love what was, initially, a struggle. 'It was quite tough for me to understand oil painting. In oil painting, you can't paint in just one layer. You have to put in the work, and spend days and weeks building on the layers. And you're always into the painting. You can't be out of it,' he says, as if recreating the mood in which the romantic couple stayed in pretty much all through Wong Kar-wai's film – the mood of tracing and re-tracing a passion, what they imagine to be the paces of their respective partners falling in love with each other. Or, as Chow put it: 'I was only curious to know how it started. Now I know.' It's a proxy life, but when they stop talking in circles and the time comes to make a break with their failed relationships, Mr Chow and Mrs Can would rather keep their feelings for each other on freeze. Bang's paintings show the same flush of unspoken desire—in it the woman waits, the couple walk side by side but their hands don't touch, the man smokes into the night preferring solitude over action. Re-creating a mood But why simply recreate frames and characters of such a well-loved film? Bang explains: 'I read a book called On Photography by Susan Sontag. She says if you take the stills away from a film, they have a different context. A film unfolds over time while a painting stays in that moment, and when you look at it like that, in an exhibition, where there are lots of paintings by me, they will interrelate with each other. There's like a collective meaning there. Also, while watching a film, the frame that you're looking at is an editor's selection and it guides your feelings. But looking at a painting in a gallery, you have the control over which particular scene you want to have more impact on you. So, that sparked off the idea in me to take particular scenes from the film and paint them, so that the viewer can look at it as long as s/he wants and derive whatever meaning s/he wants, and just soak in that feeling." Bang's paintings are also geared for short attention spans and quick epiphanies. In his words: 'Today, the way we watch movies on OTT platforms, isn't it an accepted way of watching movies? You can watch one at your convenience, take a break, and come back to it.' Staging an encounter The exhibition flow has also been structured to keep today's audience in mind. The paintings are prompters of feelings, arrangements of encounters in which curiosity is the first overture that is followed by an invitation, and then the beginning of the ending. 'The way I've chosen the scenes, and the way the exhibition has been structured, the starting scenes you will find are quite wholesome, warm — they lighten up the mood. Then the scenes get more distant—they have a cooler tone—more emptied out, like the way love fades away over time,' says the artist. 'I tried to blur the lines between the audience and the characters in my work—you'll see lots of scenes where you don't see the faces,' he adds. 'The characters are in the middle of a certain moment; or they're physically there but thinking of the other person. And then there are certain paintings where you see the faces, which kind of remind the viewer that you're not them, you're living their world. So, it's an interplay between all these different states as well. The experience of love and longing, and then the memory of it; love in the present and in the absent.' Heartbreak is an important feeling, Bang says. It's a house many people stay in. 'We kind of neglect it, put it down. But I have a feeling that it teaches you things, which even love might not,' he says.
South China Morning Post
26-04-2025
- Entertainment
- South China Morning Post
‘Global' Hong Kong mustn't lose sight of its own beauty
Hong Kong doesn't need to chase the sameness of Coldplay concerts and viral trends. It needs to be assured in its own taste This spring, In the Mood for Love is once again flickering on cinema screens in Hong Kong. More than two decades on, Wong Kar-wai's film has lost none of its glow. A meditation on time, restraint and unspoken desire, it quietly signals that Hong Kong once moved to a different rhythm. It is tempting to read this re-release as political, especially in a city where cultural memory has become a muted form of dissent. In truth, the film captures not the colonial past but the emotional present. What draws people to Wong's work is not nostalgia – rather, it's atmosphere, mood or the slow, deliberate pacing of life. Much of In the Mood for Love was filmed in Bangkok, a location chosen not for strict accuracy but for its ability to evoke a Hong Kong that no longer physically existed. That choice says everything: Wong is not archiving the past; he is conjuring up its emotional temperature and memories of fleeting spaces. With projects such as his television series Blossoms Shanghai and his curatorial work for the Prada restaurant in Shanghai, Wong continues to shape mood. Though set in the 1990s, Blossoms often evokes 1920s Shanghai through layered interiors and stained light. Wong insists that beauty does not belong in archives but in daily life: in stairwells, gestures and silence. For the director, Shanghai and Hong Kong are not just cinematic backdrops but emotional landscapes. Born in one city and raised in the other, he embodies haipai – Shanghai style – a cross-cultural current flowing between the two cities. His films trace a rhythm once shared by the cities, carried by migration, commerce and memory. Some of the world's most influential business empires, from China Merchants to Jardine Matheson, are not just headquartered in Hong Kong, they were born or remade here. Many would have begun as modest ventures in a city that offered rare opportunities for growth at the edge of empires. Maggie Cheung in a still from the 25th anniversary edition of In The Mood For Love. Photo: Jet Tone Production The city's commercial rise was never just the product of laissez-faire ideals. It was shaped by family businesses, trading houses and cross-border capital that found in Hong Kong a unique stage. In return, they shaped the city – how people dressed, ate and imagined their place in the world. Newsletter Daily Opinion By submitting, you consent to receiving marketing emails from SCMP. If you don't want these, tick here {{message}} Thanks for signing up for our newsletter! Please check your email to confirm your subscription. Follow us on Facebook to get our latest news. These firms could not have emerged the same way anywhere else. This is not to romanticise capital, but to recognise Hong Kong as a place of reinvention. Today, the critical question is not whether Hong Kong still matters, but whether its influence can shift from efficiency to authorship. If the hands that once shaped its commerce still define its skyline, perhaps they can also help restore a more deliberate kind of beauty. Not branding. Not nostalgia. Not luxury for its own sake, but a textured, intentional authenticity. Adrian Cheng's K11 represented one recent attempt at this, bringing art into retail before the market was ready. The timing was unfortunate. But the aspiration remains compelling: what if a city could feel again? Something seems to be shifting. The popularity of local films like The Last Dance and a renewed interest in tailoring and neon signs are no accident. They reflect a hunger for something more grounded. Global aesthetic slop, homogenised, packaged and served with algorithmic precision, is wearing thin. As conspicuous consumption evolves, catching a Coldplay concert has become social currency; that too says something about the city. Chris Martin at Coldplay's concert at the Kai Tak Stadium on April 9. Photo: Harvey Kong Hong Kong does not need to chase sameness. It needs to remember and be assured in its own taste, whether it's smoke curling up from incense coils at Man Mo Temple, chandeliers glittering at the Peninsula, or red plastic stools gleaming under fluorescent light. These are not trends, but texture – identity, even. And there are ways to carry them forward without flattening them into another viral design language. Hong Kong can still absorb global influences and express them in a vocabulary that feels local and lived in, as it once did. It shouldn't need to mimic the next trending aesthetic to matter. It should let its inheritance evolve into something alive. To return to Wong, the point is not to look back, but inwards, asking what kind of future knows how to feel deeply. Policy can support this shift. The aesthetic life is not a luxury but a civic resource. Private-public partnerships might seed a film archive in Sai Ying Pun or fund apprenticeships in Cantonese opera and letterpress. There could even be another Hong Kong-Shanghai cultural corridor – to give the next generation tools to see. Business once sculpted Hong Kong. It can set the city's cultural pulse racing again. Bring back the neon. Bring back the stories. Bring back the belief that living beautifully is still possible – not for old times' sake, but for a future that remembers how to see.
