Both are rich in symbols and act as a language for our unconscious. They transport us to a space that feels familiar yet strange. We watch our unconscious in a dream; in a movie, we watch fantasies or inner conflicts of someone. Both use objects and scenes for repressed ideas. Both operate outside logical time.

What do we seek from a film? Do we want it to educate us? To entertain us? Or to help us escape our worries? I lean towards the last option. Wong Kar-Wai, one of my favourite directors, excels in this. Escapism. But where? To a dream or reality?

A Dreamlike Reality in Wong Kar-Wai’s Films

Wong Kar-Wai’s films exist in a realm that blends reality with surrealism. His stories defy conventional norms and flow like dreams. His characters roam neon-lit streets, in search of longing and fleeting connections more than tidy endings.

Characters in Search of Themselves

His characters often feel trapped. They find themselves stuck between the past and the present, love and loneliness, their current lives and their desires. They pursue their dreams, embodying contradictions — strong yet vulnerable, passionate yet restrained. They move independently, stretching for what feels just out of reach. Wong Kar-Wai offers no heroes or villains. His characters are human, defined by their silences as much as their words. They yearn with courage, willing to feel deeply, even if it leads to heartbreak.

Time and Colour as Fluid Entities

In Wong Kar-Wai’s films, time is not linear. It is circular, fragmented, and elusive. Time loops back, trapping characters in memories and déjà vu, making the past feel present. His characters exist in a time that can be both frozen and fleeting. They cannot escape the echoes of their pasts.

This fluidity is reflected in his use of colour. His palette flows like emotions. Deep reds and greens blend, while neon lights unveil hidden thoughts. Colour in his films isn’t just for show; it carries nostalgia, passion, and loneliness.

Nostalgia

Unlike many filmmakers who view nostalgia as longing for the past, Wong Kar-Wai presents it as an experience. His characters swim in their memories, much like fish in an aquarium. They know their past, but they stay distant enough to keep moving forward. Nostalgia in his films isn’t a burden; it shapes their present and past.

The Courage to Begin Again

Wong Kar-Wai’s films don’t promise tidy endings but offer the courage to start anew. His characters may lose love, time, or themselves, but they are never truly stuck. They keep searching, feeling, and moving. There’s always another beginning, another encounter, another chance. His cinema teaches us that there’s quiet bravery in continuing through uncertainty.

A Filmmaker of Quiet Revolutions

In Wong Kar-Wai’s films, characters engage with nostalgia without being trapped by it. They experience it like fish in an aquarium, immersed yet free. That’s why they move so easily — meaning is fluid, a playground rather than a restriction. They seem always on the verge of starting again. His characters face uncertainty, emptiness, and life’s limits with fearless curiosity. Their courage invites us into this dreamlike realm. Here, reality fades, and possibilities expand.

In Happy Together, the characters may not find happiness, but they find ways to move forward. At the start of the movie, they spot a picture of a waterfall on a lamp. They follow the story and end up in Argentina. Then they become unhappy. No money, no security, no happiness. Despite accepting a failure, he ends up as a night guard in a tango bar. The music fills the air, but things are falling apart in silence. I love that scene. Even in ruin, there’s rhythm, light, and dance. In his movies, everything becomes possible, yet everything breaks. The characters carry on. They don’t fix their lives; they live in the ruins with the feeling of nostalgia.

We fear dreams. We crave them, yet we dread their uncertainty. Emptiness makes us uncomfortable because we don’t know how to fill it. These films are for those brave enough to leave the void empty.