Women's Prison
Reviewed by YTSL
Unlike those movies that are filled with hopping
vampires and flying “jiang hu” representatives, women-in-prison films are
not unique to Hong Kong cinema. Like with certain prostitute dramas
from this East Asian territory -- notably the 1992 edition of “Girls with
Tomorrow” that was co-directed by Wong Chi and David Lam, and also Lawrence
Ah Mon’s “Queen of Temple Street” -- however, the few Jade Theatre “females
behind bars” efforts that I’ve thus far viewed seem to contain certain
elements that I find uncommonly effective at tugging at my heart strings
and making me come to have empathetic feelings for those of its main characters
who I’d normally expect to not have all that much sympathy for. Also
like with the better “call girl” offerings that I’ve checked out, these
films look to be good showcases of those actresses who prominently feature
in them (e.g., Carrie Ng, Season Ma and Meg Lam in “The First Time is the
Last Time” and the stars of this work that came out one year before the
Raymond Leung helmed prison drama that also benefited from having a strong
supporting performance from Andy Lau).
In point of fact, I would go so far as to suggest
that such as WOMEN’S PRISON are likely to rise or fall on the abilities
of those entrusted with investing an essential modicum of humanity into
archetypal characters that might otherwise too clearly come across as being
way too tiredly stereotypical in nature. In which case, a fair amount
of kudos ought to go to whoever was responsible for ensuring that this
Alan (Tam) & Eric (Tsang) production has Pat Ha in the lead role of
Kelly Ho Ka Wai -- a thirty year old individual who this David Lam helmed
offering’s viewers first see attractively attired in Western styled bridal
wear on what was supposed to be her wedding day but spends much of the
rest of the traumatic incident filled work in drab prison garb (and being
known to other uniformed women as inmate number 6180 as well as by her
personal name(s)) -- as well as the particular actress who I’m coming to
greatly admire after seeing her in such varied fare as “On the Run”, “Vengeance
is Mine”, “An Amorous Woman of the Tang Dynasty”, “Princess D” and now
this film too.
After being sentenced to 18 months in jail for
bashing the head of one of two loan sharks who had pursued her intended
(Wayne Lau -- who comes in the form of Simon Yam -- had sought to make
some money from gambling but ended up only incurring significant debts)
all the way from Macau and manhandled her mother, Kelly (as she is identified
in the English subtitles but is clearly being referred to as Ka Wai on
the Cantonese audio track) finds herself in a WOMEN’S PRISON where she’s
told that “it’s not jail here but hell” and the maxim that “life is not
easy” rings all too true. One major reason for the prevailing conditions
being so difficult stems from the institution’s permanent promotion- cum
cushy life-seeking nominal head having opted to delegate a lot of her work
and authority to -- plus close her eyes to the less savory actions of --
another prison officer (portrayed with apparent relish by Ha Chi Chun)
who not only seems to delight in inflicting pain and hardship on the prisoners
in her official capacity as a Physical Education trainer but also playing
favorites among the inmates (and, accordingly, deciding on the bully known
as “Fatty” as well as prisoner number 1012 -- who is played by Liu Fan
-- as the person to do much of her dirty work).
Being the inexperienced jailbird that she is,
Kelly soon finds herself on the bad side of the prison’s weak chief warden,
her riding-crop-always-at-the-ready (de facto) lieutenant and the
overbearing Fatty (with whom she finds herself being locked up in the same
space at night as well as serving on the same work detail during much of
the day). Among other things, this means that she gets subjected
to more than her fair share of humiliations (notably a “body searching”
that must have been a true trial for Pat Ha, not just her convict character,
to be a party to enacting) as well as frustrations (Some of which boiled
over and precipitated an escape attempt in the back of a garbage truck
-- which might have been successful if not for Rocky, the young son of
an unhappy “lifer” referred to as Jean -- as well as number 958 -- in the
English subtitles and Kam on the Cantonese audio track (who is sensitively
portrayed by Petrina Fung Bobo) having tagged along without her, or his
mother’s, permission -- as well as the still unmarried woman’s seeking
to abort the baby that she was found to be carrying).
If truth be told, the undoubted heroine of WOMEN’S
PRISON never was going to get into these mean personalities’ good books
(not least because she possessed a strong sense of justice and could see
that this trio -- even the two who were officially on the correct side
of the law -- were particularly apt to violate it). However, certain
events -- that often involved more than just the two of them -- did at
least manage to turn the ever capable Carol Cheng’s rough, tough “Big Sis”
Lynn (AKA inmate number 950) character from a(nother) cheesed off potential
enemy into a trusted friend. Even while this relationship does bring
along its particular troubles, it is one that could be said to play a part
in giving the upright Kelly some heartening cause to believe that good
can be found in seemingly unlikely places and people, including the system
itself -- which actually does get depicted in this Nam Yin scripted effort
as one that is not beyond repair -- and within the ranks of those who are
paid to maintain order in that which are, after all, hardly supposed to
be lawless institutions (One of whom is portrayed by Maria Cordero, whose
powerful musical contributions to this emotion impacting offering it would
be remiss of me to not mention).
Consequently, for all of the travails and torments
that she -- whose status as a rare convict who is an “educated woman” ended
up bringing more trouble upon her than she probably thought as well as
wished would be the case -- and many of her fellow prison inmates (including
a particular unfortunate played by Charine Chan) are seen undergoing over
the course of the movie, WOMEN’S PRISON is not as thoroughly depressing
as its trailer made it look like it would be. Although there are
those who might disagree, it is this (re)viewer’s honest opinion that the
sincere feeling film’s nursing of a hopeful message and postscript -- amidst
some truly trying situations and desperate events (at least one of which
seriously got my adrenaline pumping) -- is what makes this female-centric
(melo)drama a compelling work that some may not just want to check out
once but, rather, might deem to be the kind of offering that is worthy
of at least one revisit somewhere down the home video viewing road.
My rating for the film: 9.