Pig, the Snake and the Pigeon, The (2023) Review

“The Pig, the Snake and the Pigeon” Theatrical Poster

Director: Wong Ching-Po
Cast: Ethan Juan, Li Li-Ren, Ben Yuen, Ivan Chen, Gingle Wang, Chen Yi-wen, Lee Lee-zen
Running Time: 134 min.

By Paul Bramhall 

One of the biggest tragedies of the increasingly restrictive policies Mainland China has placed on the film industry has been the fact that some of the newer creative talents from Hong Kong have simply disappeared off the radar. Filmmakers like Pang Ho-Cheung and Lee Ka-Wing, who both made their directorial debuts in the 2000’s, have yet to make anything in the 2020’s, and for the longest time I also included Wong Ching-Po in the same discussion. Responsible for one of the most uncompromising Cat III productions of the 21^st century with 2010’s Revenge: A Love Story, Ching-Po’s output always offered up something a little different and unique. However after 2014’s Once Upon a Time in Shanghai, with the exception of directing a segment in the 2016 omnibus movie Good Take!, he disappeared off the radar. Thankfully, in 2023 he reappeared.

Just shy of 10 years since he last helmed a feature length production, The Pig, the Snake and the Pigeon sees Ching-Po back in the director’s chair. While even the most distinctive Hong Kong directors have seemingly resigned themselves to helming middling Mainland-friendly fare in recent years (see Derek Kwok’s instantly forgettable 2021 thriller Schemes in Antiques for the perfect example), thankfully Ching-Po has decided to take a different route, choosing to make his latest in neighbouring Taiwan. While to the uninitiated it may not appear to be a big deal whether a production shoots in Mainland China or across the Taiwan Strait, the reality is there’s a world of difference, since Taiwan’s government doesn’t subject its film industry to any of the censorship and potential criminal charges that China does. In short, it means creative freedom.

Opening with a scene that sees the local cops loitering outside the funeral of a crime boss, recalling a similar scene from the 2013 Korean gangster flick The New World, inside we see a young underling espousing the virtues of a fearless assassin known as “the Kuilin Kid” to the person he’s seated next to. Played by Ethan Juan (The Guillotines, Detective Dee: The Four Heavenly Kings), it’s not a spoiler to say he turns out to be the assassin being spoken of, and is there to perform a hit. After eliminating his target he tries to make a quiet exit, but is spotted by a cop played by Li Li-Ren (Sisterhood, The Mad King of Taipei), leading to an extended foot chase through local markets, apartment staircases, and building rooftops. Li-Ren eventually catches up with Juan, the pair clashing in a desperate brawl that ultimately sees him losing an eye, and Juan get away.

It’s a blistering opening, and after its conclusion the narrative skips forward 4 years later. Li-Ren is still a cop, now with a glass eye, and Juan has been laying low, his only contact with a pharmacist who treats criminals as a side hustle, who he’s stayed connected to because of his sick grandmother. In a way TP, tSatP (as I’ll refer to it from here on in) served to remind me of just how much Hong Kong/Chinese cinema I still watch, since my immediate assumption was that the plot was going to entail Li-Ren’s hunt for Juan after he re-emerges to deliver justice, but in fact Ching-Po takes the story in a very different direction. Instead, Juan is positioned as the main character, who when we meet him again learns that his grandmother has died and that he has stage 4 lung cancer both on the same day (making 2023 the year of assassins with lung cancer, with Park Hoon-jung’s The Childe featuring a similarly afflicted assassin).

Given only 3 – 6 months to live and placed as the 3^rd most wanted person in Taiwan, Juan’s biggest worry is that no one will remember him after he’s gone, so decides he wants to go out as the number 1 most wanted person in Taiwan, planning to do so by offing the criminals currently holding 1^st and 2^nd places. It’s a left of field narrative turn that’s typical of Ching-Po, and part of what makes TP, tSatP so entertaining is that it takes its knowingly ridiculous premise, and proceeds to play it completely straight. What we have is a movie about a half forgotten criminal whose ego makes him want to be remembered, and killing those in front of him is the best idea he can come up with, one which is filmed with all the seriousness of someone on an epic quest for redemption before they move off the mortal coil.

It also splits the runtime into 2 distinct halves. In the first half we see him searching for the appropriately named Hongkie, played by Hong Kong actor Ben Yuen (Hand Rolled Cigarette, Raging Fire), who’s running his nefarious activities behind the front of a low-key barber shop in Taichung. Yuen’s in an abusive relationship with the shop owner Gingle Wang (Detention, Marry My Dead Body), and it strikes some kind of protective chord in Juan to come to her rescue. In many ways the narrative plays out in a way that’s typical of many 2000’s era Korean gangster movies, with another messy brawl unfolding once the pair actually come face to face. While TP, tSatP is far from an action movie, it’s worth noting that what’s there is of a high quality, so much so that choreographer Scott Hung (also responsible for the action in the likes of 2018’s The Scoundrels) won Best Action Choreography at the 2023 Golden Horse Awards.

However the 2^nd half takes an unexpected tonal shift, as Juan follows the trail of his other target to a cult called the New Spiritual Society in Penghu County, led by its charismatic leader played by Ivan Chen (Yi Yi, The Great Buddha+). Receiving unexpected news of his target’s whereabouts, Juan ends up seeking solace in the cult when it’s revealed that his terminal cancer appears to be improving, buying into the cults belief to give up all worldly belongings and accept that life is meaningless. It’s a move that transitions TP, tSatP from an unironic gangster flick to something different all together, and Ching-Po makes it work (much the same way he did in Revenge: A Love Story, which the scenario has echoes of). It also brings an underlying streak of black humor to the fore, incorporating a mass shooting that had the (probably desired) effect of both making me laugh and feel slightly uncomfortable at the same time.

Indeed the way fleeting moments of black humor are subtly weaved into the narrative feels like Ching-Po is giving the nod that we shouldn’t be taking things as seriously as the tone suggests. A highlight sees a seemingly inconsequential newscast make a plea for the public to return money that was taken from a cash truck involved in a traffic accident, only for it to come to the fore when Juan makes a decision to turn himself in. Expecting to arrive at the police station to much furore after laying low for so long, upon telling the police officer his name he’s barely given a second look, instead told to stop blocking the entrance and ushered into a long queue of people who’ve responded to the plea made on the newscast in the earlier scene. There’s a journey from self-grandeur to self-realisation that runs just under the surface of TP, tSatP, one that gradually reveals itself through certain scenarios like the one mentioned.

As for the title itself, while initially I thought the animals being referenced may be in relation to Juan (the criminal), Li-Ren (the cop), and Wang (the victim), a scene in the movie itself proved that theory incorrect when Juan makes a reference to the Chinese folk tale Zhou Chou Eradicates the Three Scourges. In fact the title is a reference to the top 3 most wanted list, with the original tale involving a rough around the edges youth who protects a village by defeating a tiger and a dragon, only to realise afterwards that the villagers fear him just as much as the creatures he fought against. It’s a fitting metaphor for the story being told, and The Pig, the Snake and the Pigeon once more shows Ching-Po as a filmmaker who cares for the craft of cinema, one who it’s a pleasure to see back in action. My only hope is that we see more of the missing in action HK filmmakers return to the director’s chair, and if they do so in Taiwan then even better.

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 8/10