Director Tommy Tom brought his latest cinematic endeavor, "Spare Queen," a character-driven bowling drama, to this year’s Hong Kong International Film Festival (HKIFF), leveraging the sport’s infamous "seven-ten split" as a poignant metaphor for the complexities of human connection. Speaking with Asian Movie Pulse during the prestigious event, Tom offered profound insights into the intricate process of crafting a narrative centered on two women who find themselves closest at the very moment they are furthest apart. His reflections extended beyond the film’s artistic merits, delving into the stark realities and profound challenges of continuing to produce meaningful cinema within Hong Kong’s increasingly fragile film industry.
The Enduring Legacy and Contemporary Relevance of HKIFF
The Hong Kong International Film Festival, established in 1976, stands as one of Asia’s oldest and most respected platforms for showcasing cinematic excellence. Annually, it draws filmmakers, critics, and cinephiles from across the globe, serving as a vital launchpad for both established and emerging talents within Hong Kong and the broader Asian region. Its role in fostering cultural exchange and celebrating diverse storytelling has remained paramount, even as the local film industry navigates turbulent waters. For a film like "Spare Queen" to be featured at HKIFF is not merely an exhibition but an endorsement, highlighting its artistic merit and thematic relevance within the global cinematic discourse. The festival’s programming often reflects the prevailing socio-cultural currents, making Tom’s film, with its introspective look at relationships and its implicit commentary on the local industry, a particularly timely inclusion.
The ‘Impossible Split’: A Metaphor for Fleeting Connection
At the heart of "Spare Queen" lies the potent symbolism of the "seven-ten split," known to bowlers as the "impossible split" due to the daunting task of converting it. These two pins, standing at the extreme edges of the lane, become a powerful visual and emotional metaphor for the film’s two main characters, portrayed by acclaimed actresses Stephy Tang and Chrissie Chau. Tom meticulously explains that while converting this split is an unforgettable achievement in bowling, it is inherently fleeting; the pins reset, returning to their distant positions. This transient yet impactful moment forms the emotional bedrock of "Spare Queen," illustrating how the two women share a singular, defining experience that leaves an indelible mark, even if their paths diverge afterward. "They might never truly be friends afterwards and their lives will move on in separate directions," Tom elaborates, "but the brief instant when their paths intersect leaves a lasting mark on both of them." The film culminates in a poignant final shot, where the characters acknowledge each other before parting ways, each carrying a permanent, quiet place for the other in her heart. This nuanced exploration of human bonds, where profound connection can exist without permanence, offers a refreshing departure from conventional relationship narratives.
Bowling as an Internal Arena: A Battle Against Self
Tom’s connection to bowling is deeply personal, stemming from his solitary beginnings in the sport. He was initially drawn to its self-contained nature, requiring neither teammates nor direct opponents. This individualistic appeal evolved into a profound understanding of bowling as primarily a contest against one’s own limitations. This perspective became the foundational psychological framework for "Spare Queen." Initially, Tom’s scriptwriter expressed reservations about a bowling-centric story, fearing it would be visually static and lack inherent drama. Tom, however, countered that the true drama unfolds within. "An opponent’s score does not change your pins. You are forced to confront only what you have left standing," he asserted.
This philosophy translates directly to the film’s protagonists. Both women carry significant emotional baggage, often attributing their problems to external factors. The narrative arc forces them to confront the issues they themselves have created. Just as a bowler must face the pins remaining after a missed first throw, Tom’s characters can only progress by addressing their unresolved inner conflicts. The film powerfully illustrates that avoidance perpetuates cycles of failure, while courage paves the way for a different, more liberated future. This introspective approach transforms the bowling lane into a potent psychological battleground, making the sport a dynamic mirror for the characters’ internal struggles.
Innovative Visual Storytelling: Elevating the Sport on Screen
To translate this introspective sport into compelling cinematic language, Tom collaborated closely with cinematographer Chris Lee Chi-wah, deploying a range of innovative camera techniques. They utilized unusual angles, mounting cameras behind the pins and around the lane, offering perspectives rarely seen even in professional bowling broadcasts. This practical camera work was complemented by sophisticated computer graphics for shots that were physically impossible to capture conventionally. Extreme slow motion, hyper-tight close-ups of impact, and dynamic visualizations of the ball and pin trajectories immerse viewers in the game’s visceral precision and unexpected violence. These visual choices are particularly evident in the film’s climactic competition, where they amplify the emotional stakes for the two women, making their internal turmoil palpable through external spectacle.
Tom’s background as an animator, inspired by Japanese masters like Hayao Miyazaki ("Laputa: Castle in the Sky") and Katsuhiro Otomo ("Akira"), and his subsequent career as a visual effects producer on major productions such as Stephen Chow’s "Kung Fu Hustle" and Quentin Tarantino’s "Kill Bill," directly informed his approach. Working with a modest budget for "Spare Queen," he strategically allocated resources to a handful of crucial shots, particularly in the final championship sequence. This segment showcases layered computer-generated imagery designed to heighten suspense and forge a deeper connection between the audience and the characters’ inner struggles. Drawing from his commercial experience, Tom prioritized visual effects for the film’s conclusion, believing that the most impactful shots often reside at the narrative’s peak.
A Quiet Triumph: The Strike as a Symbol of Liberation
A particularly resonant moment highlighted by the interviewer involves Stephy Tang’s character silently gazing at an empty pin deck after a decisive strike late in the story. Tom confirms this as a pivotal emotional beat. For him, the pins symbolize the heroine’s long-standing personal issues. By the time she steps onto the lane for this crucial match, she has begun to grasp the necessity of confronting the baggage that has held her back for two decades. The triumphant strike, therefore, transcends a mere game victory; it is a profound visual declaration that she is ready to shed a damaging relationship and reclaim agency over her life. Tom directed Tang to imbue the scene with a sense of inner control rather than overt emotion, aiming for an understated performance that allows the audience to perceive the lifetime of hesitation culminating in a sudden, powerful decision to move forward. The resulting image is simple yet profoundly impactful, conveying a silent, devastating strike against her past.
Strategic Casting: Forging Friction and Complexity
Tom’s casting choices were deliberate, aimed at pushing actors beyond their established personas to create authentic on-screen friction and reveal deeper complexities. Stephy Tang, often associated with "good girl" roles, was cast to portray a more complicated, even messy woman—a mistress and young mother who smokes, aspects starkly contrasting with Tang’s public image. Tom was keen to see her inhabit this challenging character.
Similarly, for Chrissie Chau, Tom sought a departure from her previous roles, where her characters often suffered at the hands of others. In "Spare Queen," he envisioned her as a driven, successful businesswoman within the bowling world, a figure capable of both dominance and vulnerability. The dynamic between Tang and Chau’s characters is thus predicated on a nuanced clash of strength, underlying resentment, and buried empathy.
The supporting cast also reflects this meticulous approach. Anson Kong, a popular figure from music and television, plays a man approximately ten years younger than Chau’s character. Tom sought a performer who possessed not only physical attractiveness and talent but also a convincing maturity to capture the attention of an accomplished, seasoned woman. Adam Pak, with his background in fine arts, was chosen to portray an artist whose charismatic exterior masks less admirable traits, his look and training making him a natural fit for the role.
To cultivate the palpable on-screen hostility between Tang and Chau, Tom employed unconventional directing techniques. He sometimes kept the actresses physically separated during shooting, even literally sitting between them to minimize friendly conversation before intense scenes. For a particularly pivotal confrontation involving a bowling ball, the actors waited in separate tents to maintain the necessary tension. While they engaged in lighthearted chatter during less critical moments, Tom carefully guarded the most emotional sequences, ensuring the resentment felt immediate and raw.
Navigating Production: Budget Constraints and Creative Acumen
Working with a modest budget of eight million Hong Kong dollars presented significant challenges, often necessitating the filming of seven or eight scenes per day to adhere to the tight schedule. Location rentals offered no leeway for overruns. Surprisingly, the love scene, which Tom, as a first-time director, anticipated would be difficult, proceeded smoothly due to the professionalism and thorough preparation of the lead actors.
The climactic championship sequence, however, was a different story. Shot over four days in a Macau bowling center, the sequence had to be meticulously pieced together around the fragmented availability of the cast. Tom could not shoot in chronological order and frequently filmed one side of interactions without all actors present. To maintain coherence, he rigorously storyboarded the entire stretch as if it were a complex action set piece, internalizing the geography and rhythm of every moment.
Equally demanding were the quiet emotional scenes, such as a beach conversation where Tang’s character speaks to a young girl representing her younger self. Tom carefully guided Tang away from overt tears, instructing her to contain the emotion. The objective was to allow the audience to sense the depth of what she was holding back, rather than witnessing a conventional crying scene, fostering a more profound emotional connection.
The Precarious State of Hong Kong Cinema
Tom anticipates "Spare Queen" will reach Hong Kong cinemas after the summer, a strategic release to circumvent the fierce competition from blockbuster traffic. He is candid about the sobering realities of the local film market. While Hong Kong audiences still frequent cinemas, only a select handful of titles achieve box office totals around one hundred million Hong Kong dollars annually. Many critically acclaimed works, including a recent science fiction drama he admires, struggle to reach even ten million.
Practically, a production costing around eight million Hong Kong dollars requires a box office return in the low twenties million to break even—a target few films manage to hit. Tom acknowledges this situation is not unique to Hong Kong but feels particularly acute in the city that once boasted one of the world’s most vibrant film industries. Despite these formidable economic hurdles, he remains resolute in his conviction that his responsibility is to tell stories he believes deserve to be heard.
Championing Invisible Athletes: The Focus on Women in Sport
"Spare Queen" deliberately centers on female athletes in a domain often perceived as male-dominated. Tom highlights that the vast majority of sports-based movies still focus on male competitors. Through his research and writing process, he discovered countless women who dedicate themselves to their sports with an intensity equal to, or even surpassing, that of their male counterparts, yet remain largely unrepresented on screen. With "Spare Queen," he aimed to modestly redress this imbalance. By focusing on two women whose personal histories, past decisions, and professional ambitions collide on the bowling lanes, he hopes to offer viewers a glimpse into the sacrifices, inner battles, and unwavering dedication that define female athletes every day. This choice aligns with a broader contemporary movement towards greater gender parity and diverse representation in media.
Beyond an ‘Industry’: A Community Driven by Passion
Looking beyond his current project, Tom is actively developing new scripts but openly concedes the necessity of returning to commercial work to sustain himself. In his sobering assessment, what once constituted a thriving film industry in Hong Kong has transformed into a loose community of highly skilled individuals who can no longer rely solely on cinema for their livelihood. Many directors and crew members he knows hold full-time jobs outside the film sphere, pursuing their creative projects in their limited remaining hours. He hesitates to label this a mere "hobby," given the serious training and professionalism required, yet economic realities prevent most from treating filmmaking as a primary career. Those who persist do so out of an unyielding love for storytelling.
Tom remains hopeful for future directing opportunities. Early responses to "Spare Queen" have been mixed, with some viewers deeply moved and others less impressed, a range he accepts as an inherent part of presenting personal work to an audience. If the film resonates with a sufficient number of people, it may yet provide him the chance to step behind the camera once more, a testament to the enduring passion that fuels Hong Kong’s resilient cinematic community amidst its formidable challenges.
