Hong Kong films have been having a mad moment – none more so than Anselm Chan’s The Last Dance. The territory’s 2019-20 political upheavals and the beginning of the COVID era further underlined the different direction that filmmakers in the territory have taken from their mainland China cousins, where patriotism and spectacle are the dominant trends. 

The current Hong Kong movement is built on a sense of local linguistic and territorial identity, production funding that is once again largely locally sourced and a resilient, can-do spirit. 

The Last Dance is a drama in which a man (portrayed by Dayo Wong) reinvents himself as a funeral parlour operator after his wedding planning business goes awry. To succeed, he has to find an accommodation with the fearsome previous owner of the business (played by Michael Hui) and overcome stubborn elements of patriarchy and superstition that diminish the role of women, notably one portrayed by Michelle Wai.

The film’s director, Anselm Chan, told ContentAsia that Hong Kong’s  filmmakers and audiences are evolving.

“In the past, Hong Kong films often followed a commercial formula of sex, comedy or action. But audiences are more sophisticated today and we see that the recent record-breaking films have no formula,” he said.

The feature is the third Hong Kong film in 18 months to break the territory’s all-time box office record for a locally made movie.

The two previous claimants were A Guilty Conscience, a courtroom drama that emphasises the rule of law and taking responsibility for one’s actions, and action thriller Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In, set in the fabled Kowloon Walled City and reputed to be the territory’s costliest-ever film production. 

The Last Dance, released in early November after minor festival premieres in Hawaii, Hong Kong and Tokyo in mid-October and went on to achieve over HK$152 million/US$19.5 million during its two months in local cinemas. It also had impressive, shorter runs in Malaysia, the U.K. (where there is now a large expatriate Hong Kong population) and mainland China, where it earned some US$27 million. 

“Under the old system, the two main protagonists would have clashed throughout. We broke with that and made a film which first serves the drama in the script. To make that transition we needed actors who were willing to play along,” said Chan.

“I wanted to make a film about life and death told through funerals. My producers were hesitant. They thought it very niche and could not see any comedy in my (incomplete) script. I lied and said that it would be there on set, but actually I wanted to take comedy actors and show that they are capable of real acting performances,” Chan said. 

“Wong [a comedian who became a major star with A Guilty Conscience] initially rejected my pitch, but at a chance meeting in a café he heard me out, loved the premise and encouraged me to complete the screenplay.”  

“My producers had an even deeper intake of breath when I said that I wanted to cast [veteran funnyman] Hui. After completing the script, I met Hui in the same coffee shop as before. [Hui] liked my concept of comedians doing real acting and agreed to join the production on one condition,” Chan said.

“I had to promise him that on set I would never let him slip into being the old Michael Hui. ‘Never let me forget this is the new era,’ he would tell me, but of course he was too professional ever to need such a reminder,” Chan said. – By Patrick Frater

▶ Published in ContentAsia's 24 February 2025 eNewsletter