Double Tap (2000) Review

“Double Tap” Japanese Theatrical Poster

Director: Lo Chi-Leung
Cast: Leslie Cheung Kwok Wing, Alex Fong Chung Sun, Ruby Wong Cheuk Ling, Monica Chan Fat Yung, Vincent Kok Tak Chiu, Joseph Cheung Man Kwong
Running Time: 95 min.

By Paul Bramhall

There can be no denying that the Hong Kong film industry was in a miserable place at the turn of the century. There were 2 key factors behind the slump, the first being that many of its biggest directors and stars were still trying their hand in Hollywood, having made the jump based on the uncertainty of what the 1997 handover would bring. The second, and arguably bigger problem (little did we know at the time, but the fear of closer ties to China wouldn’t really manifest until the 2010’s), was that movie piracy was ravaging the film industry to the point of extinction. Despite this, there were some directors who rose to prominence during these dark days. The first who many will think of will likely be Johnnie To (and specifically his Milkyway Image Production house), but there’s also a solid case to be made for Lo Chi-Leung, who made his solo directorial debut with 2000’s Double Tap.

Chi-Leung was a frequent collaborator with Derek Yee, having worked in the capacity of assistant director on Yee’s C’est Le Vie Mon Cheri and Full Throttle, before rising to co-director status for 1996’s Viva Erotica. For Double Tap Yee would step into the producers chair, and gave Chi-Leung the opportunity to direct from his own script. Re-uniting with megastar Leslie Cheung from Viva Erotica, Double Tap follows the relationship between Cheung and Alex Fong (Angels 2, Thunder Run), who play a champion marksman shooting instructor and police inspector respectively. Fong is also no slouch in the shooting department, and there’s an underlying competitive streak between the pair, with Cheung known for his execution of the double tap – the ability to fire off 2 shots consecutively that hit the same mark.

Much of the first third of Double Tap takes place at the shooting range, with an equal amount of time spent on the intricacies of gun maintenance, as Chi-Leung’s script keeps its cards close to its chest and doesn’t appear to be aiming for anything more than a shooting range rivalry. This section of the narrative could be accused of threatening to test the audience’s patience, as there’s only so many times you can watch a bullet be shot at a stationery target. However the plot takes a sharp turn during the eventual competitive face off between Cheung and Fong, as a disgruntled cop barges in with a hostage at gunpoint. When Cheung’s girlfriend (played by Ruby Wong – Where a Good Man Goes, Running Out of Time) is placed in danger, it’s he who takes the shot while Fong hesitates, placing a bullet straight between the eyes.

The competition is left unresolved, and Cheung is sent off to a psychologist to deal with the trauma of killing someone. It’s in a quiet scene between Cheung and Wong that sets Double Tap off into far more interesting territory, as he reveals there’s something he’s been keeping a secret from the psychologist, which is that killing someone made him feel really happy. Skipping forward 3 years, Cheung’s skewered mental state has seen him become an assassin for hire, and when Fong is assigned to a multiple murder scene, the double tap shots convince him that it was Cheung behind the trigger. While there’s no evidence to bring Cheung in legitimately, instead Fong sneakily finds a way to hold his girlfriend, which sets the pair on a bloody collision course.

Firstly let’s be clear that there’s some suspension of disbelief required to enjoy Double Tap, a statement that could be applied to a lot of Hong Kong cinema, but which doesn’t make it any less valid. The question of why Cheung uses the double tap shot when he’s known to be one of only a few shooters in Hong Kong capable of it is never clearly addressed, and what’s more baffling is why Wong has decided to stay with someone who obviously has a dangerous mental illness. But such contrivances do little to impact the overall quality that Chi-Leung achieves here, crafting an effectively taut thriller that weaves in some suitably bloody action sequences throughout its runtime.

This was the first time for Cheung to take on what’s essentially a villain role, having spent most of his career up until this point in either heroic, comedic, or straight drama roles. Scenes which reflect his characters troubled mental state take on an extra level of poignancy watching Double Tap 20 years later that could never have been foreseen at the time, as the star suffered from clinical depression which led to him taking his own life just 3 year later. The role is certainly a vast departure from the Leslie Cheung audiences were used to seeing, a reminder that his breakthrough role as Ti Lung’s brother in 1986’s A Better Tomorrow (when he was 30) was a long time ago, and his appearance here is suitably chilling.

Alex Fong is more one-note as the cop on his trail, and easily the less interesting of the pair. What keeps the plot simmering away so effectively though is the moral ambiguity Chi-Leung incorporates into it. Even though we know Cheung needs to be taken down, as the lynch pin of the plot involves Fong unfairly keeping his girlfriend as collateral, a large part of the audience’s emotional investment goes to wanting Cheung to get her back. It’s a clever bait and switch using the characters perspectives to gain our buy-in based not on what’s the right thing to do, but rather the injustice of separating a couple who just want to be together (regardless of if one has become a mentally unstable killer!). 

The action is handled by Venoms alumni Philip Kwok, for which Double Tap marked his return to action directing after a 5-year hiatus, and there are times when proceedings get surprisingly bloody. Kwok and Cheung had worked together before, having collaborated on Once a Thief, The Bride with White Hair, and The Phantom Lover in the capacity of action director and actor, but it was probably Double Tap which saw them work together most closely. Kwok himself at this point was no stranger to adapting his talents to gun fights after working on the likes of The Big Heat, Hard Boiled, and Love, Guns and Glass (his last movie before going on hiatus), and the action here leans more towards Johnnie To style realism than the bombast of John Woo.

While the initial shooting range scenes serve their purpose, it’s when Cheung lures the cops who are on his tail back to the range that Kwok’s action direction really shines, as he clinically takes them out one by one. Events culminate in a sequence that has everyone converge in a crowded shopping mall for the finale, as Cheung and Fong finally get to pit their skills against each other. There’s a technique on display here that’s probably best described as an updated version of Ringo Lam’s bullet perspective action aesthetic in Full Contact, aided by CGI at a time when the technology complimented action scenes rather than being the action scene. It’s a fitting finale to an underseen slice of 2000’s Hong Kong action cinema, proving that it was still possible to make quality cinema that had both star power and high production values during an era that was particularly bleak.

Double Tap would get a thematic sequel a decade later with 2010’s Triple Tap, which saw Derek Yee sit in the directors chair and featured Fong as a supporting character in the same role (as an interesting sidenote, he also shows up as the same character in Yee’s One Night in Mongkok). Compared to Double Tap the sequel is a terminally dull affair devoid of any tension or excitement, serving only to highlight what an underrated director Lo Chi-Leung is. While Chi-Leung continues to deliver solid genre efforts, most recently with his double whammy of The Bullet Vanishes and The Vanished Murderer, if you’ve yet to see directorial debut, it’s time to check it out. 

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 8/10