Wong’s cinema is never in a rush. It’s moody, musical, and deeply internal. Whether it’s a neon-lit noodle shop or a rain-soaked alley, his worlds are places where heartbreak lingers in the air. His soundtracks—Nat King Cole, The Mamas & the Papas, Faye Wong—beautifully accompany the scenes, or even haunt them. And somehow, even when time jumps or narratives drift, it never feels like you're lost. You're just floating through someone’s memories.
For this ranking, we broke things into two parts. First: the ten films Wong both wrote and directed. These are judged as complete works—how his storytelling blends with his visual poetry, pacing, and emotional tone. Second: five films he only wrote. In those, the spotlight's on the screenplay—its characters, dialogue, and themes—separate from how the directors executed them.
The Director’s Chair: Ranking All 10 Wong Kar-Wai Films
10. My Blueberry Nights (2007)
Wong’s first (and only) English-language film follows Elizabeth (Norah Jones), a heartbroken woman who takes a soul-searching road trip across America. Along the way, she meets a series of equally lost souls: a gambler (Natalie Portman), a drunk cop (David Strathairn), and his estranged wife (Rachel Weisz). It’s a tale of heartbreak and healing, played out in diners, motels, and empty highways.
Visually, the film retains Wong’s dreamy aesthetic: slow motion, tight closeups, and food as emotional metaphor. But the script lacks the nuance of his earlier works. The dialogue feels self-conscious, and the characters are thinly sketched. It’s more of a beautiful surface than a deep well—like watching someone try to translate a poem but losing the rhythm.
That said, it’s still a case study in Wong’s obsession with distance, emotional and geographical. For filmmakers, it shows the challenge of carrying an auteur style across cultures and languages. Sometimes it clicks. Sometimes it’s just blueberry pie.
9. The Grandmaster (2013)
This martial arts epic follows Ip Man (Tony Leung), the legendary Wing Chun master who trained Bruce Lee. But don’t expect a traditional biopic. This version weaves through decades of political upheaval, romantic tension with fellow master Gong Er (Zhang Ziyi), and a meditation on legacy.
Fight scenes, choreographed by Yuen Woo-Ping, are stunning and unfold like ballets. But the narrative feels fragmented, likely due to multiple cuts for different markets. At times, it’s hard to tell what matters emotionally and what’s just beautifully shot filler.
Still, this film highlights how Wong approaches genre: not by embracing its rules, but by bending them into something lyrical. For storytellers, it’s a lesson in mood-driven structure—and a reminder that editing can make or break an ambitious script.
8. As Tears Go By (1988)
Wong’s debut film stars Wah (Andy Lau), a low-level triad member torn between protecting his volatile friend Fly (Jacky Cheung) and pursuing a tender romance with his cousin Ngor (Maggie Cheung). It’s a gangster flick on the surface, but there’s a quiet sadness running underneath.
Compared to his later work, this is surprisingly conventional—there’s action, conflict, and a straightforward arc. But you can see the seeds of his style: emotionally fractured men, doomed love, and the ache of things left unsaid.
What’s useful here for young filmmakers is seeing how a voice begins. The style isn’t fully formed yet, but the themes are. You don’t have to start perfectly. You just have to start with something true.
7. Ashes of Time (1994)
This reimagined wuxia tale follows Ouyang Feng (Leslie Cheung), a bitter swordsman-for-hire who lives in isolation, haunted by his past and the people he’s loved—or failed. Other warriors drift in and out, each with their own regrets.
The film is nonlinear, disorienting, and laced with philosophical monologues. Visually, it’s painterly and surreal. But narratively, it’s hard to grab onto. Many found it baffling on release, and even the 2008 “Redux” version didn’t fully solve the clarity issue.
That said, it’s a great study in mood-driven writing. The script evokes instead of explaining. For screenwriters, it’s a lesson in letting your structure take a backseat to sensation, but coherence still matters.
6. 2046 (2004)
A quasi-sequel to In the Mood for Love, 2046 follows Chow Mo-wan (Tony Leung) years after his doomed love affair. Now a jaded writer, he drifts between hotel rooms, women, and memories—some real, some fictional. The film blends sci-fi, eroticism, and melancholia.
It’s visually exquisite, packed with Wong’s signatures: cigarette smoke, mirrored glances, whispered regrets. But it’s also indulgent and, at times, emotionally opaque. The story-within-a-story framing adds layers but not always clarity.
Still, for storytellers, this film is a masterclass in nonlinear structure and emotional recursion. Characters echo each other. Time loops. Memories distort. It’s messy—but intentionally so.
5. Days of Being Wild (1990)
Set in 1960s Hong Kong, the film follows Yuddy (Leslie Cheung), a charming but emotionally hollow drifter who strings along two women—Su Li-zhen (Maggie Cheung) and Mimi (Carina Lau)—while searching for a sense of identity. Meanwhile, a lonely cop (Andy Lau) nurses a quiet crush, and everyone’s stuck circling around the ghost of love they can’t quite hold.
This is where Wong’s voice really takes shape. Gone are the shootouts and plot-heavy setups of his debut—here, it’s all about mood, memory, and missed connections. Christopher Doyle’s cinematography casts a hazy, nostalgic glow over every shot, and the pacing feels like a slow dance with regret. It was also the beginning of what would become his informal trilogy with In the Mood for Love and 2046.
This film teaches patience. It’s less about what happens and more about how it lingers. For filmmakers, it’s a lesson in creating atmosphere through character silence, camera movement, and emotional pacing, not plot.
4. Fallen Angels (1995)
This Hong Kong noir features two loosely connected stories: a hitman (Leon Lai) trying to break away from his mysterious partner (Michelle Reis), and a mute delinquent (Takeshi Kaneshiro) who hijacks people’s lives for fun. It’s a film about disconnection—how people move through the same spaces without ever really seeing each other.
This is Wong at his most stylized and chaotic. Fish-eye lenses distort already cramped spaces. Music blasts. Neon floods every frame. The editing is jagged, impulsive. If Chungking Express was romantic chaos, Fallen Angels is urban loneliness cranked up to eleven. Some critics called it disjointed; others called it genius.
It’s the kind of movie that makes you want to pick up a camera and start experimenting. If you're a filmmaker, this one’s about bold choices—don’t just imitate Wong’s style; figure out what mood you're chasing, then bend your form to match it.
3. Happy Together (1997)
Set in Argentina, this film follows a turbulent romance between Ho Po-Wing (Leslie Cheung) and Lai Yiu-Fai (Tony Leung), two Hong Kong expats trying to escape their past—or at least each other. Their relationship swings from intimacy to volatility, and their surroundings feel as alien as their emotions.
It’s one of Wong’s rawest, most intimate films. The cinematography (again by Christopher Doyle) is looser and less composed, reflecting the messiness of the characters’ lives. The handheld camera captures breakdowns, tenderness, and long silences. Wong doesn’t over-explain. He lets it sit there, unresolved.
This one’s a blueprint for writing real, complex queer characters. It also shows how a director can use geography and emotional dislocation as narrative tools. Don’t be afraid of stories that hurt, and don’t rush to fix the pain.
2. Chungking Express (1994)
Split into two unrelated love stories, the film centers on two lonely cops: Cop 223 (Takeshi Kaneshiro), who obsesses over expired pineapple cans and a mysterious drug smuggler (Brigitte Lin), and Cop 663 (Tony Leung), whose life gets quietly rearranged by an eccentric snack bar worker, Faye (Faye Wong). The stories are light on plot but rich in feeling.
This is the film that made international critics fall head over heels for Wong. The colors pop. The soundtrack pulses. Time slows down and speeds up. There’s a looseness to the structure that feels improvised, yet every scene lands. It's funny, sad, and bursting with feeling—like a mixtape for the heartbroken.
Watch this film if you want to understand how to make small stories feel huge. It’s proof that you don’t need big stakes to make something unforgettable—you just need characters you can’t stop thinking about.
1. In the Mood for Love (2000)
Mr. Chow (Tony Leung) and Mrs. Chan (Maggie Cheung) are neighbors who suspect their spouses are having an affair. As they try to process their betrayal, they grow close, sharing dinners, walks, and long silences. But they never cross the line. Instead, they float in a space of what-ifs and nearlys.
This is Wong’s most famous film and also his most emotionally precise. Every frame is composed like a memory. The camera lingers in hallways. Costumes repeat like rituals. Nat King Cole’s “Quizás, Quizás, Quizás” loops like a heartbeat. It's a film where nothing happens—and everything happens.
You want to learn screenwriting? Study this. It’s about restraint. About how to say more with less. About how tension doesn’t need drama, just quiet. Writers often overwrite emotion. Wong underwrites it—and that’s what makes it hit harder.
The Writer’s Pen – Ranking 5 Films Wong Kar-Wai Only Scripted
5. Chinese Odyssey 2002 (2002)
Directed by: Jeffrey Lau
In this genre-bending romantic comedy, Princess Wushuang (Faye Wong) swaps places with her maid to escape royal life, only to fall for a poor innkeeper, Ah Long (Tony Leung). There’s mistaken identity, kung fu slapstick, and time-traveling shenanigans—plus some cheeky meta nods to classic Chinese tales.
Wong’s script is surprisingly playful here. It’s light on the poetry and heavy on parody, riffing on tropes and spinning them into fast-paced farce. But while it’s witty and weird in spots, it lacks the emotional depth or thematic resonance found in his best work. You can see his fingerprints, but they’re smudged under all the comedy.
Still, it’s a good reminder that not everything has to be profound. This script shows how Wong can adapt his writing for mainstream comedy, and for writers, it’s proof that range matters—even if you prefer melancholy over mayhem.
4. Final Victory (1987)
Directed by: Patrick Tam
Bo (Eric Tsang), a loyal but bumbling man, is tasked with watching over his gangster brother’s two mistresses—Ping (Margaret Lee) and Mimi (Loletta Lee)—while the brother is in jail. What starts as a simple favor turns into a complicated web of affection, betrayal, and hard choices.
The writing is surprisingly sharp for early Wong. Themes of loyalty, emotional repression, and quiet sacrifice echo his later films. The characters are layered, the tone vacillates between comedic and tragic, and the central emotional conflict feels genuinely earned. It’s rough around the edges, but there’s depth here.
If you’re a screenwriter, this is a great script to study for balancing tonal shifts. Wong was still finding his voice, but he was already writing about people caught between duty and desire—something he’d later perfect.
3. Saviour of the Soul (1991)
Directed by: David Lai & Corey Yuen
Set in a futuristic fantasy world, this action-romance hybrid follows Ching Yan (Andy Lau), a masked vigilante, and his love interest, the mysterious May (Anita Mui), as they battle assassins, robots, and their own emotional baggage. It’s part superhero flick, part tragic love story, and part fever dream.
The writing is bonkers in the best way. It’s genre chaos—romance, action, sci-fi, melodrama—all smashed into one screenplay. But under all the spectacle, Wong’s themes of memory, love, and identity still sneak through. It’s like watching him play with toys he normally keeps locked away.
This script is a playground for bold ideas. For writers, it’s a reminder that you can still inject emotion and heart into genre-heavy projects—and that surreal doesn’t mean shallow.
2. Eros – Segment: The Hand (2004)
Directed by: Wong Kar-Wai
This short film within the anthology Eros tells the story of Zhang (Chen Chang), a young tailor’s assistant who becomes emotionally entangled with Miss Hua (Gong Li), a high-end call girl. Their interactions—formal, sensual, and quietly devastating—unfold over years, even as they drift apart.
Though brief, the script is loaded with tension and unspoken longing. Every scene feels like it’s built on silence and suggestion. The emotional power doesn’t come from big moments, but from restraint. It’s Wong’s voice distilled: sensuality without sex, desire without resolution.
Writers should pay close attention to how this story unfolds. It’s short, but the structure is airtight. It proves that you don’t need a full feature to devastate your audience—you just need honesty and precision.
1. Comrades: Almost a Love Story (1996)
Directed by: Peter Chan
Li Xiao-Jun (Leon Lai), a naive mainlander, moves to Hong Kong and forms an unlikely bond with fellow immigrant Li Qiao (Maggie Cheung). They drift together and apart over a decade, falling in and out of love, chasing dreams, and missing each other by inches.
This screenplay is heartache in slow motion. Wong’s writing is emotionally rich, deeply empathetic, and full of lived-in detail. The way he captures migration, cultural dislocation, and emotional compromise makes this one of his most fully realized scripts, even without his directorial touch.
What’s most striking is how human this story feels. For writers, this is a clinic in building complex characters who feel real, not because of big speeches, but because of tiny, consistent truths. It’s arguably Wong’s finest work on the page.
Conclusion
Wong Kar-Wai’s films are full of beauty, but they’re never empty. His style might grab you first—the slow motion, the saturated colors, the iconic soundtracks—but it’s his storytelling that lingers. Whether he’s directing or just writing, Wong understands that memory, desire, and heartbreak don’t follow a clean timeline. They echo. They repeat. They blur.
Even when someone else is behind the camera, his voice comes through—quiet, aching, and unmistakable. It’s not just what the characters say. It’s what they almost say, and what they feel too deeply to put into words.
If you’re new to his work, start with In the Mood for Love or Chungking Express. If you’re a writer, read Comrades: Almost a Love Story. If you’re a filmmaker, study Happy Together or Fallen Angels. And if you ever find yourself writing about heartbreak, time, or what could’ve been—just know Wong’s probably been there first, and he probably wrote it better.
