Autumn’s Tale, An (Blu-ray Review)
Director
Mabel CheungRelease Date(s)
1987 (September 24, 2025)Studio(s)
D&B Films (Imprint Asia/Via Vision Entertainment)- Film/Program Grade: A-
- Video Grade: A-
- Audio Grade: A
- Extras Grade: B
Review
[Editor’s Note: This is a Region-Free Australian Blu-ray import.]
A real surprise, An Autumn’s Tale (秋天的童話, 1987) is a Hong Kong-produced romantic dramedy directed by Mabel Cheung, a film that would make an excellent one-half of a double-feature with the similar Frankie and Johnny, also newly reviewed. Both are set in Manhattan and are about a lonely woman gradually drawn to an equally lonely, working class man drawn together despite their obvious differences. Additionally, An Autumn’s Tale is a fish-out-of-water story since its main characters navigate their relationships on foreign soil.
But the big surprise here—completely shocking, even—is the performance by Chow Yun-Fat. For those of us who, like me, know him primarily as the tough-guy action star of John Woo and Ringo Lam-type thrillers like A Better Tomorrow, The Killer, and City on Fire, his acting in An Autumn’s Tale is a revelation. He fashions a character so completely unlike any of his later starring vehicles one almost mourns that he was so pigeonholed in that limiting genre.
The movie in which he so impresses is also itself rather good. Its themes are sometimes universal, sometimes very Hong Kongese, but Cheung’s direction of Alex Law’s sensitive screenplay is assured and consistently interesting, even if some of the story’s components are a little predictable.
Jennifer Lee (Cherie Chung) travels from her native Hong Kong to New York City, planning to reunite with her boyfriend, Vincent (Danny Chan), and study abroad together. Distant cousin Samuel Pang (Chow Yun-Fat), a working-class stiff, picks her up from Kennedy Airport and sets her up in an apartment directly above his, somewhere in the shadow of the World Trade Center—a particularly unsavory part of the Lower East Side. (73 Monroe Street was the filming location.)
When Jennifer goes to meet Vincent, she is shocked to discover he has a new girlfriend, and is planning on moving to Boston soon, anyway. Pang gradually helps Jennifer get over her depression about losing Vincent by constantly encouraging her and selflessly helping out with everything from building a bookcase for her apartment to saving her life when she nearly asphyxiates herself after leaving an over-boiling teapot on the gas stove which snuffs out the flames but not the gas.
In typical Hong Kong can-do manner, Jennifer gets two jobs to pay for her tuition and rent, working at a pretentious restaurant in Chinatown and as a babysitter for a couple on Long Island. Pang’s gregarious personality even wins over Anna, the couple’s initially snotty daughter.
Pang, outwardly affable but inwardly painfully shy, invites Jennifer to a party he’s putting together, but without telling her it’s for its upcoming birthday. He seems ready to confess his love for Jennifer, but who turns up at the event? Vincent, natch.
Cherie Chung, now retired from acting, is credible as Jennifer, initially clingy and desperate toward Vincent, she clearly deserving someone better. She feels comfortable and safe around Pang, but “as a friend,” and aware of his intensifying feelings toward her, and she really doesn’t want to hurt him.
It’s a strong performance, but Chow Yun-Fat is the big surprise, carving a unique characterization in Pang. Brash yet shy and lacking confidence in his looks—the actor convinces us that he’s plain leaning toward unattractive, even though the actor clearly is anything but. Pang is a chronic gambler but unrelentingly generous to his friends, unhesitatingly loaning them big wads of cash when he’s flush, and helping out another friend being harassed by a local gang.
He’s uncultured and utterly without pretensions but not stupid, a kind of Hong Kongese Marty. Later in the story Jennifer comes across Pang’s Master’s Degree, begging the question: Is his compulsive gambling holding him back? A lack of confidence? Behind his winning smile he seems terribly depressed in some scenes, and inclined to throw his life away both financially (the gambling) and physically (too often getting drunk, pushing for a confrontation with the street gang, arguing with local police, etc.). Pang is an intriguing, likeable character yet Alex Law’s screenplay seems to resist telling us everything about him, which makes the character, and Chow Yun-Fat’s performance, all the more intriguing.
The cinematography, by David Chung and James Hayman, do an outstanding job capturing pre-gentrified New York, much like the look of Marshall’s Frankie and Johnny a few years later. Their looks are similar, but Chung’s approach, per the script, is an even grimier, more threatening New York that’s visually quite interesting: views of New York as seen through the eyes of foreigners staying there.
Imprint’s Region-Free Blu-ray of An Autumn’s Tale gets a 1.85:1 widescreen 1080p transfer, remastered in 4K. I found the first reel a little on the soft side, but the rest of the movie looks great, sharp with lush color and good contrast. Two audio mixes are offered: 5.1 and 7.1 DTS-HD 5.1 Master Audio, both primarily in Cantonese with optional English subtitles. (For some reason, the English subtitles, presumably part of distributor Fortune Star’s master, use smallish font, fine for large projection systems but maybe not for those with smaller monitors.)
Extras consist of a new audio commentary by film critic Walter Chaw; interviews with director Chung and screenwriter Law; a music video trailer; and both a theatrical and international trailer.
A nice, little character-driven film, An Autumn’s Tale is a pleasant surprise—especially for Chow Yun-Fat’s atypical but deservedly award-winning performance, quite unlike anything in his movie career. Recommended.
- Stuart Galbraith IV