A moving study of grief and redemption

The almost unimaginable grief of a husband and father is documented in “Papa,” a poignant drama based on the true story of a 15-year-old boy whose murder of his mother and sister shocked Hong Kong in 2010. With an outstanding lead performance by Sean Lau, “Papa” is played in a restrained tone that creates great emotional impact and great depth and complexity to the protagonist's unwavering determination to still love his son and understand what caused this tragedy gives. With expert tonal control over a non-linear screenplay that follows the aftermath of the crime and examines the love story that brought this family to life, writer-director Philip Yung's carefully crafted film is expected to find a large and appreciative audience when it premieres in Hong Kong December 5th after its world premiere in competition in Tokyo.

A major departure from the pretentious, trashy sheen of his 2022 fact-based cops 'n' triads saga “Where the Wind Blows,” “Papa” continues Yung's interest in real-life crime stories, which include the Yung – produced “The Sparring Partner”. Here he approaches the tone of his 2015 breakout hit “Port of Call,” about the murder of a teenage girl. This film's powerful examination of the human response to a horrific act of violence is reflected in this study of an ordinary man with extraordinary stoicism and reserves of love.

Yuen (Lau), a quiet guy who found love and started raising a family later than most of his friends and relatives, is seen for the first time opening the 24-hour restaurant that he and his family run Ms. Yin (Jo Koo, excellent) runs in the busy Tsuen Wan district. The reason why he is so slow in setting up tables and chairs is explained by the presence of the police in the apartment directly across from his family. Earlier that morning, his 15-year-old son Ming (Dylan So) murdered his mother and younger sister Grace (Lainey Hung) with a meat cleaver without warning.

According to Ming, who is passionate about environmental issues and animal welfare, he acted after voices in his head told him the planet was overcrowded and he should kill people. “Dad thinks he didn't take good care of me and that's why I did this, but that's not true – that would have happened no matter what,” Ming said at his trial. Only later is a clear diagnosis about the boy's psychological condition made. This plays a crucial role in helping the audience connect with Yuen and understand how he can maintain his love for his son while dealing with the kind of guilt that no explanation can erase.

Chapter headings with the names of family members take us back and forward in time. As Yuen goes through the horrific process of arranging funerals and starting his life over, flashbacks reveal his beautiful romance with Yin, a waitress at his restaurant with a beautiful heart and zest for life who doesn't care that he is much older than her. In a delightful scene quintessential to their relationship, they rent a karaoke room at dawn on their wedding day. The arrival of Ming and Grace and the demands of running a 24-hour business show that Yuen is someone who may not use many words and may sometimes stumble around being a father, but whose love for his family is deep and true.

In the present, Yuen tries to learn more about mental illness and how it could help him with Ming. In a heartbreaking moment long after the horrific incident, Yuen shows his vulnerability by bursting into tears of shame after hiring an escort and being robbed by her employers before anything happens. Here and in many other short sequences, Yung gives the vivid impression of a man trying to process the unfathomable and find a way forward. Particularly poignant are Yuen's visits to the psychiatric prison where Ming is held, where every word and gesture is valuable in his search for answers and hope.

By seamlessly transitioning between past and present, Yung creates something closer to stream-of-consciousness than a conventional story. Technology plays an important role: the warm amber tones and use of slow motion in the past contrast with the flatter and more formal look of the present. The intelligent use of shallow depth-of-field photography highlights Yuen's isolation. He can often be seen clearly, while people and objects around him are blurry and indistinct. At other times, Yung begins with sequences that are out of focus and whose focus slowly emerges, perfectly timed to the emotional impact.

Lau, who has appeared in Hong Kong films from 1986's “Silent Love” to the more recent “Warriors of Future,” is great in one of his best roles. A man who neither talks much nor displays a wide range of emotions, Lau's beautifully tuned performance leaves the viewer in no doubt of the crushing sadness and grief beneath his seemingly calm and measured exterior.