<p>For decades, Wong Kar-wai has been cinema's preeminent poet of longing and nostalgia, a director who can make a single glance timelessly hold the weight of a lifetime. So when it was announced that he was making his foray into television with <em>Blossoms Shanghai</em>, a 30-episode epic set in the city's booming 1990s stock market, the question was not just, "Would it be good?" but would it feel like Wong Kar-wai?" Having watched the first 10 episodes, the answer is a rewarding yes. While it initially stumbles under its own ambition, <em>Blossoms Shanghai</em> slowly “blossoms” into something that, if not quite vintage Wong Kar-wai, is a uniquely captivating beast of its own.</p><p>As a champion of the Hong Kong New Wave, Wong Kar-wai created a visual language that defined the city’s cinematic landscape while delving into its identity and emotional essence. With <em>Blossoms Shanghai</em>, the director had to shift trajectories — choosing Peter Pau over Christopher Doyle as his cinematographer, and adapting a novel ('Blossoms' by Yin Yucheng). It marked a mammoth shift from his earlier style of filmmaking.</p><p>The series drops us headfirst into the frenetic world of Ah Bao (Hu Ge), a self-made millionaire navigating the cutthroat business landscape of early ’90s Shanghai. The pace is relentless and unforgiving. We are introduced to a dizzying array of characters: his mentor, the sagacious Uncle Ye (You Benchang); Ling Zi (Ma Yili), the owner of the restaurant Tokyo Nights; Miss Wang (Tang Yan), his frazzled liaison; and the enigmatic Li Li (Xin Zhilei), who arrives to open a lavish new restaurant called The Grand Lisbon. The dialogue is dense with business jargon, and the narrative structure, which jumps between timelines and uses voice-over liberally, feels more like a highlight reel than a story with room to breathe. This marks a strong shift away from his early dreamy sequences, which gave the audience enough space to absorb the mood.</p><p>Visually, however, it is unmistakably Wong Kar-wai. The cinematography is a feast of his signature techniques: kinetic camera movements, characters framed by doorways and mirrors, and extreme facial close-ups that search for the emotion beneath the surface. At times, though, this aesthetic feels a bit too restrained for a 30-episode series. However, things begin to change around Episode 10. The show's heart starts to beat louder than its hustle. This episode cycles back to a familiar Wong Kar-wai theme — yearning and the absence of love in a city (amid all its chaos).</p><p>What makes <em>Blossoms Shanghai</em> so intriguing is its duality. On one hand, it functions as a time capsule, a tribute to a specific era of Chinese economic reform. The show is filled with what one critic called “period luxury", fixating on stylish fashion, the glitter of newly renovated hotels, and the electric feeling of money waiting to be made. On the other hand, it is unmistakably a Wong Kar-wai project about love and loneliness. The central relationships — Ah Bao’s complex “web of debts” with Ling Zi, his professional and personal tension with Li Li, and his protective bond with Miss Wang — are far more compelling than any financial deal. As the show progresses, it becomes clear that the “business” is merely the arena in which these characters play out their deeper emotional struggles.</p><p>Although it is too soon to declare definitively, the show already feels like a quintessential Wong Kar-wai film but only 30 episodes long.</p><p>(<em>Blossoms Shanghai</em> is currently streaming on Mubi.)</p>
<p>For decades, Wong Kar-wai has been cinema's preeminent poet of longing and nostalgia, a director who can make a single glance timelessly hold the weight of a lifetime. So when it was announced that he was making his foray into television with <em>Blossoms Shanghai</em>, a 30-episode epic set in the city's booming 1990s stock market, the question was not just, "Would it be good?" but would it feel like Wong Kar-wai?" Having watched the first 10 episodes, the answer is a rewarding yes. While it initially stumbles under its own ambition, <em>Blossoms Shanghai</em> slowly “blossoms” into something that, if not quite vintage Wong Kar-wai, is a uniquely captivating beast of its own.</p><p>As a champion of the Hong Kong New Wave, Wong Kar-wai created a visual language that defined the city’s cinematic landscape while delving into its identity and emotional essence. With <em>Blossoms Shanghai</em>, the director had to shift trajectories — choosing Peter Pau over Christopher Doyle as his cinematographer, and adapting a novel ('Blossoms' by Yin Yucheng). It marked a mammoth shift from his earlier style of filmmaking.</p><p>The series drops us headfirst into the frenetic world of Ah Bao (Hu Ge), a self-made millionaire navigating the cutthroat business landscape of early ’90s Shanghai. The pace is relentless and unforgiving. We are introduced to a dizzying array of characters: his mentor, the sagacious Uncle Ye (You Benchang); Ling Zi (Ma Yili), the owner of the restaurant Tokyo Nights; Miss Wang (Tang Yan), his frazzled liaison; and the enigmatic Li Li (Xin Zhilei), who arrives to open a lavish new restaurant called The Grand Lisbon. The dialogue is dense with business jargon, and the narrative structure, which jumps between timelines and uses voice-over liberally, feels more like a highlight reel than a story with room to breathe. This marks a strong shift away from his early dreamy sequences, which gave the audience enough space to absorb the mood.</p><p>Visually, however, it is unmistakably Wong Kar-wai. The cinematography is a feast of his signature techniques: kinetic camera movements, characters framed by doorways and mirrors, and extreme facial close-ups that search for the emotion beneath the surface. At times, though, this aesthetic feels a bit too restrained for a 30-episode series. However, things begin to change around Episode 10. The show's heart starts to beat louder than its hustle. This episode cycles back to a familiar Wong Kar-wai theme — yearning and the absence of love in a city (amid all its chaos).</p><p>What makes <em>Blossoms Shanghai</em> so intriguing is its duality. On one hand, it functions as a time capsule, a tribute to a specific era of Chinese economic reform. The show is filled with what one critic called “period luxury", fixating on stylish fashion, the glitter of newly renovated hotels, and the electric feeling of money waiting to be made. On the other hand, it is unmistakably a Wong Kar-wai project about love and loneliness. The central relationships — Ah Bao’s complex “web of debts” with Ling Zi, his professional and personal tension with Li Li, and his protective bond with Miss Wang — are far more compelling than any financial deal. As the show progresses, it becomes clear that the “business” is merely the arena in which these characters play out their deeper emotional struggles.</p><p>Although it is too soon to declare definitively, the show already feels like a quintessential Wong Kar-wai film but only 30 episodes long.</p><p>(<em>Blossoms Shanghai</em> is currently streaming on Mubi.)</p>