Film Name: 回魂夜 / Out of the Dark
When it comes to Stephen Chow’s films, many can join the discussion, but true connoisseurs are few and far between—especially for this one, ” Out of the Dark.” First off, if you don’t understand Cantonese—or even if you do but aren’t deeply familiar with Guangdong culture—I suggest you skip it. This isn’t about regional prejudice or ethnic disputes; it’s simply that the film’s entire essence rests on its Cantonese-language dialogue, crafted from a Cantonese mindset. Those unfamiliar with Cantonese will inevitably grasp only the surface.
Stephen Chow’s films pour immense effort into clever dialogue and plot devices. The jokes may seem simple, but they’re packed with intricate details. A single moment of inattention can cause you to miss several hidden layers. The reason why there are many viewers but few true connoisseurs is that most people dislike the effort required to deeply appreciate and decipher Stephen Chow’s films. Frankly, it’s only when you’ve watched his films a hundred times, and finally, on the hundred-and-first viewing, you realize your laughter hits at moments vastly different from everyone else’s—congratulations. This isn’t because you’ve become just another mindless Stephen Chow fan, but because you’ve finally grasped that his films’ true meaning lies in those minute details. You’ve learned how to appreciate this kind of cinema, rather than blindly following the crowd like those fanatical devotees or cynical detractors.
But “Out of the Dark” stands apart. While seemingly following Stephen Chow’s comedic lineage, it actually veers off course. This marks his second film in a deliberate creative shift. Beginning with “From Beijing with Love,” Chow and his collaborator Lee Lik-chi urgently sought to shed Wong Jing’s brand of crude humor, instead injecting their own distinctive brand of dark comedy into the film. The dark humor in “From Beijing with Love” erupted like a geyser—fierce and unflinching. It fused the absurdities of politics, romance, and sci-fi into a classic, grand comedy that left audiences breathless.
Yet just one year later, perhaps due to the addition of the eccentric genius Lau Ching-wan, Stephen Chow and Lee Lik-chi’s style underwent a surprising transformation. After all, with the gem of “From Beijing with Love” preceding it, no one could have imagined this talented trio would choose to parody the then-most-popular “Leon” and craft a low-budget ghost film.
First came the suffocatingly terrifying opening. Just when everyone assumed this was a thoroughly crude Hong Kong ghost flick—and I’m certain over half the first-time viewers felt utterly duped and fled en masse—Stephen Chow’s silhouette appeared. A shot through Karen Mok’s eyes captures the staircase beyond. Faint dialogue grows clearer as the camera zooms in. Seeing that silhouette—strikingly similar to the assassin Leon—and hearing his nonsensical monologue to the flowered LILY, I felt an inexplicable sense of clarity wash over me.
An imaginative story begins here. You’d never expect a film that starts as a horror movie for the first half-hour to suddenly shift gears. The characters are eccentric yet vividly portrayed, the dialogue bizarre yet utterly entertaining. You realize this character played by Stephen Chow isn’t Jean Reno’s assassin Leon, nor is he the Stephen Chow of any previous comedy. This parody version of Leon delivers nonsensical lines with earnest confidence, his seemingly chaotic actions hinting at hidden depths. For most of the film, the audience shares the perspective of Ah Kwan and the security guards. They clearly think Leon is a madman, yet they can’t help but want to believe him. You’ll find yourself unconsciously drawn into this madman’s performance, unable to pull away.
Stephen Chow’s portrayal of LEON stands as one of the most challenging roles in comedy history. The film deliberately avoids defining its protagonist with clear identity or personality traits. The psychiatric hospital sequence encapsulates the film’s central theme: the razor-thin line between “to be or not to be,” where everything is possible yet impossible. LEON must navigate the gray areas between good and evil, truth and falsehood, genius and idiocy. The director and screenwriter build all dramatic tension on the foundation of not revealing, not guiding, not defining—simply telling the story. To achieve this, Stephen Chow must keep his character perpetually balanced on the midline between these opposing forces, never crossing into either extreme until the very last moment. Only then can the audience’s imagination be pushed to its absolute limit. Stephen Chow’s portrayal of this character is undeniably successful, even transcending expectations. Many actors have brought to life split personalities or the duality of genius and idiocy, but only Stephen Chow could render a character so compelling that you constantly yearn to define him, yet find yourself utterly unable to do so. In Leon, you won’t find any trace of any other character Stephen Chow has ever created, not even himself. There can only be one explanation: at that point, he had completely merged with Leon, becoming inseparable from the character.
The film’s many explanations about ghostly returns and apparitions—seemingly Leon’s own wild fabrications—actually absorbed many avant-garde, bold, and imaginative theories prevalent in 1995. It’s precisely this blend of seven parts nonsense and three parts truth in the comedic dialogue that keeps Leon perpetually shrouded in mystery, utterly elusive. The film leaves audiences to ponder: Is Leon a genuine ghost hunter, or a madman with extraordinary psychic powers? Are the subsequent ghostly encounters real events, or did that group of people simply lose their minds under Leon’s influence, seeing illusions born solely from his psychic projections?
Finally, I want to say that regardless of whether people see him as a genius or an idiot, Leon’s gaze in the film is always so confident—even when he’s spouting absurd lines and doing bafflingly strange things. So in truth, Leon is Stephen Chow himself. Together with the trio of Stephen Chow, Mark Liu, and Lee Lik-chi, they unleash unparalleled imagination and dialogue dripping with dark humor to declare to the audience: they themselves are both geniuses and madmen. Their very existence is often rejected by society, yet they refuse to despair. Ah Kwan in the film believed in LEON from start to finish, even when she was involuntarily possessed by a ghost. So if you truly understand this film, you’ll realize you yourself are Ah Kwan. On the day LEON’s spirit returned, you’ll smile at him with complete understanding from the heart, as if you’ve known each other for a thousand years~~~~
Please specify：Anime Phone Cases » Out of the Dark 1995 Film Review: A groundbreaking film, the pinnacle of imagination and dark humor