Film Name: 鬼请你看戏 / Last Ghost Standing / 鬼請你睇戲
Having seen the film as a child, it left a deep impression on me, so my review inevitably carries a touch of nostalgia.
They say birds of a feather flock together. Yet this jarring, bizarre, and bloody horror film didn’t turn my childhood into a nightmare or anything like that—at most, I’d feel a moment of fear when I thought about it at night. So I can’t understand why the broadcasting authorities banned so many movies.
I often reminisce about the past because my state of mind back then was so serene and gentle. Even a film like this one, I could watch over and over with relish.
Now that I’m grown, I’m not afraid at all. My heart is filled only with memories. My younger self treated this film with pure, innocent kindness—or rather, a sense of universal equality. Looking back, that mindset feels like redemption for the scarred, broken person I’ve become.
Here is the main film:
The love between Yao Yao and Yang Yang stands as the sole pure thing amidst the world’s filth. One could say that delicate affection and love, though fragile and unable to withstand trials, are also incredibly powerful—capable of saving everyone in an instant.
At the beginning, the policeman dies with his body rotting away. This actually condemns the crime of voyeurism, which causes one’s soul to decay.
Next to die was the cinema snack vendor, who spent her days idly eating and pirating movies for profit. Ultimately, she was devoured by a skeletal, blood-red monster with a grotesque mouth—her upper body chewed to pieces. This monster symbolized humanity stripped bare—nothing but bones and blood—those who merely exist, eating and waiting to die, utterly unproductive. Here it becomes clear: the one who killed the vendor was her own decaying personality.
Then there’s the hot-tempered ticket seller whose hands lash out uncontrollably. After smashing bottles over his head, he decisively severs his right hand and pours acid over the stump while laughing maniacally. He then battles the monsters, swinging his blade with deadly precision, not even blinking.
Critique: Irritable, volatile, bordering on psychotic. This frenzied emotional state was more monstrous than any creature. Ultimately, the female officer fired her gun in an accidental shot, ending his rampaging, uncontrollable personality and his tragic life.
Then there’s the octopus monster—slow-moving, filthy, and ragged. It symbolizes the fallen: unclean, rigid, and dull-witted.
Interacting with it are the female cop and the timid male lead. Their dynamic is surprisingly engaging. After the octopus infests the cop with leeches, she strips off her uniform to reveal a stylish top paired with casual bottoms—revealing she’s just an ordinary person. Her subsequent crying and tantrums further expose her fear and fragile psyche.
Chen Haomin and Qian Jiale also deliver standout performances. Without delving into every detail, the gist is this: modern pretentious youths who do drugs and perm their hair ultimately rot themselves from the inside out. The character played by Chen Haomin decays so badly his own mother wouldn’t recognize him. As for the girl in the floral pants? A serpentine monster with a rat’s head bursts from her belly and devours her. What’s the meaning behind that? Abortion? Or a snake and rat in the same nest?
That girl in the short skirt spent ages reciting from a Bible, yet it did her no good. Hmph—a book can’t stop the devil.
I truly despise the cowardly male lead. While the female lead weeps before him, he lacks the courage to even embrace her.
Thus our love remains so fragile and powerless—fear keeps you rooted to the spot.
The final boss, veins bulging, body torn open, spewing flames as he attacks—that’s a form of personality too. Wounded rage. It’s a trait I admire, because when I’m hurt, I need to strike back fiercely. But if revenge leads to harming others, then you’re no better than a devil.
Even as a monster, Yao Yao refused to harm the male lead. This true love awakened him.
Like those clichéd tales, a single kiss of true love solved everything.
Back then, I truly believed it was the devil’s cruel prank. He despised humanity’s lack of progress and disbelief in true love, so he orchestrated this nightmare. Only the male and female leads awoke from the dream. What happened to the others? Did they perish within it?
In truth, real life isn’t necessarily this hopeless. Yet real life also rarely holds such youthful, pure love. Both are extremes. But without extremes, how could it be called art?
This was the final film screened at Hong Kong’s Emperor Cinema—a microcosm of Hong Kongers’ despair and hope, destruction and rebirth. More than that, it marked the curtain call for a play, the closing of a dream.
In the end, some died, some were wounded, yet what saved the world was love.
A great film.
—In memory of childhood days, in memory of my classmate Xiao Yu.
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