Sparring Partner, The (2022) Review

“The Sparring Partner” Theatrical Poster

Director: Ho Cheuk-tin
Cast: Alan Yeung, Mak Pui-tung, Louisa So, Michael Chow, Jan Lamb, Gloria Yip, Jimmy Wong, Choi Tze-Ching, Au Ka-Man, Hui Siu-Ying, Franchesca Wong
Running Time: 140 min.

By Paul Bramhall

When Hong Kong first introduced the Category III rating in 1988, indicating that the title in question couldn’t be viewed by those under 18, few could predict that by the time the 90’s hit, the term Cat III had practically become its own genre. Increasingly, real life crime was used as the source material to create gratuitously gory entries that enticed audiences with a mix of violence and titillation. 1992’s Dr. Lamb told the story of serial killer Lam Kor-Wan, a taxi driver who picked up and murdered four women in 1982, while 1993’s The Untold Story recreated the Eight Immortals Restaurant murders from 1985, in which a gambler viciously killed a family of ten in the restaurant of the same name.

In the 2000’s though the true crime Cat III thriller was on its last legs, with pitiful entries like 2001’s There Is a Secret in My Soup, which used the Hello Kitty murder case from just 2 years prior as its source, ringing a death knell for the once infamously unhinged subgenre. It wasn’t until 2015 that the genre made a return thanks to director Philip Yung’s Port of Call, which told the tale of Wong Ka-Mui, a 16-year-old girl who had become involved in the world of compensated dating, and was murdered by one of her clients in 2008. Yung’s straight-faced approach to the material, combined with Christopher Doyle’s visuals which fully embraced the gorier elements, proved that Hong Kong could still make hard edged Cat III crime thrillers. It may have taken 7 years, but in 2022 it would be Yung who would step into the producer’s chair for The Sparring Partner, another Cat III production that looked to adapt a true crime incident for the screen. 

This time the inspiration came from the 2013 murder of a couple in their 60’s, whose remains were found chopped up, cooked (microwaved to be specific), and found in lunch boxes in a Tai Kok Tsui apartment. The couple’s son had filed a missing person’s report stating that they’d had plans to travel to the Mainland and become unreachable, however ultimately it came out that it was the son himself who murdered them, holding them responsible for his failings in life. Along with his friend who was believed to have a mental impairment from a failed suicide attempt, the pair were alleged to have intentionally lured the couple to an apartment with the intent to kill, after which they dismembered and cooked the body parts so that they’d look like char siu pork.

The debut of director Ho Cheuk-Tin (who’s since gone on to helm the 2023 comedy Over My Dead Body), the plot eschews the expected linear approach of focusing on how the 2 accused came to carry out such a heinous crime, and instead opts to frame the narrative through the lens of a courtroom drama. Considering the case has already been adapted twice on the small screen, once for the 2017 Chinese miniseries Stained, and again for the 2018 TVB Anniversary drama OMG, Your Honour, the fresh perspective proves to be a smart choice. Making both the 4 judges and the 9 jury members crucial parts of the plot (who the movies title The Sparring Partner also refers to), events unfold over a 140-minute runtime as we follow proceedings along with the courtroom members.  

Cast in the role of the son is Alan Yeung (Coffin Homes), clocking in a career best performance, and his friend is played by Mak Pui-Tung (Zero to Hero). While Yeung willingly confesses to his crime, Pui-Tung’s involvement is murkier, and as the plot progresses the main driver behind the narrative comes to revolve around the extent of his role. Did he willingly participate, or was he taken advantage of and manipulated by Yeung? Did he actually partake in the murder itself, or only get involved in the clean up afterwards? Or is he innocent all together, and just another victim that Yeung wants to take out his anger on? While the questions create the intended intrigue, the narrative takes a while to get there, with Cheuk-Tin’s direction not always clear on which characters are supposed to be the focus for the audience.

This could be intentional, creating a feeling of being kept at arm’s length from the events that play out onscreen, however with the extended runtime and ultimate lack of a conclusive ending, there are stretches of The Sparring Partner that don’t always engage the way they intended. Cheuk-Tin doesn’t shy away from the gorier details, showing both the murder (in fact multiple interpretations of it) and the messy aftermath, however these scenes only make up a small part overall. As the title indicates, narrative progression is mainly achieved through the discussions that take place between the accused, the judges, and the jury, making The Sparring Partner one of the most dialogue heavy movies I’ve watched in a long time. It’s not an exaggeration to say that there’re not many scenes in Cheuk-Tin’s debut which don’t have multiple characters in conversation, meaning that paying attention is an absolute prerequisite.

However all the talking also occasionally muddies Cheuk-Tin’s intentions. There are times when the grisly murders feel side-lined all together to push other themes come to the fore, such as the importance of a jury’s role in the court system, and the responsibility that being a juror comes with. While such themes are indeed worth exploring, it that was the intention then it probably would have been better to pick a less shocking case than a gratuitous double murder, so that it could be pushed into the background with no detrimental impact. As it is, the chilling portrayal that Yeung creates of the killer sometimes feels like its short changed by spending so much time on other characters.

Thankfully the cast is stellar across the board. Long-time Hong Kong cinema fans can look out for appearances from Gloria Yip (The Peacock King) and Jimmy Wong (Wonder Seven) as members of the jury, while Louisa So (Paradise Hotel), Jan Lam (Divergence), Michael Chow (Miracles), and Choi Tze-Ching (making her debut) are never less than convincing as the barristers. It’s a credit to their performances and Cheuk-Tin’s direction that, for the most part, the narrative maintains a consistent pace for the entire 140 minutes. Rather than limit locations to the inside of the court room, as testimonies are given the narrative places the jurors in the event being spoken of, so we see them watching Yeung and Pui-Tung talking in a café, as well as witnessing the murder itself. The use of shadows and light is also used effectively to convey the mood, meaning that the courtroom itself never runs the risk of feeling too static.

There are a few moments in the script which seem to come out of the blue. At one point Michael Chow is reprimanded for speaking English and told “This is a Chinese language only court hearing”, which seems like an odd tip of the hat to appease the NRTA, possibly in return for allowing the gorier scenes to remain. Likewise, while it’s true in reality the son claimed he was frequently bullied by “black people” while studying in Australia, in the movie the fact that the point is raised in a throwaway line about bullies who were “ethnically African” comes across as too racially specific without any further context. It would have been better to simply refer to the bullying he suffered while studying overseas, instead of throwing in a line which sticks out like a sore thumb. 

Despite a few decisions which prevent The Sparring Partner from reaching its full potential, there’s no doubt that it’s a strong debut from Ho Cheuk-Tin, marking him as a director to look out for and another welcome new voice in the world of Hong Kong cinema. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a solid Cat III crime thriller, and while it may not satisfy the itch completely, it certainly comes close. In any case, we can now add microwaved char siu pork to the list of Cat III consumables, proudly sitting alongside human pork buns and horrible high heels. Tuck in.

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 7/10