Film Name: 君子好逑 / Gwan ji ho kau / The Other Side Of Gentleman
Is this Lam Ling-tung’s twisted imagination? Take a closer look—the psychology professor is played by Cheung Kwok-chow, not as mislabeled on Douban. First off, everyone came to see the breathtakingly beautiful Brigitte Lin, with everything else secondary. Yet along the way, we witness a gang of villains and the dark underbelly of society. Such a setup makes me think Lam Ling-tung must have a truly twisted mind. The film opens with a meeting where they observe Alan Tam like lab rats (Wu Xiaohui). They first declare that underprivileged youth lack ambition and responsibility—essentially branding them as society’s scum who must be reformed. Why emphasize “underprivileged”? Because this selection was clearly curated; Wu Xiaohui is presented as representative. Later, there’s a so-called university reunion featuring doctors, architects, psychologists—clearly not from the lower classes. Yet they’re all young people too. From the outset, this experiment didn’t treat the underclass as human beings. What purpose does a conglomerate serve by funding social psychology experiments?
Regardless of the method—be it love, friendship, or family bonds—they’re all just tools. This meeting was dominated by psychologists, as they conceived the experiment’s destructive plan (primarily Lin Qingxia and Zhang Guozhu). Then came the introduction of Chairman Huang from Asia Enterprises, the sponsor who wanted to buy everything with money. Chairman Huang clearly mirrors our mainland nouveau riche. He has an accent, lacks education, and drools while sleeping, calling out the name “SUSAN.” Presumably, this SUSAN doesn’t love him, which is why he wants to buy her. Unable to buy her, he sponsors the experiment to see if he can buy her indirectly. This likely drives his sponsorship. He shows zero interest in academia and no respect for the present Confucian scholar (who may be his hired critic, hence the disrespectful rebukes). His focus remains on the lavish evening banquet. This epitomizes the nouveau riche’s ostentatious display. Duped into funding a psychological social experiment, he believes money can buy everything, fixated solely on sensual pleasures—a rather ironic commentary on us. Besides the rambling Confucian scholar, the church was also involved—likely just educational staff from a church school. But not necessarily; this living experiment definitely had church participation. They cared nothing for love; the nun was immediately cut off by the priest. Then there was Mrs. Meng, possibly a media figure whose main gig was her column’s advice box. Her presence served two purposes: securing benefits for her column and providing theoretical support. Second, she’ll handle media outreach if the experiment succeeds.
Then they pick the girl. Lin Qingxia serves as assistant—probably not even a teaching assistant at the university, since she listens to lectures too. What’s this student seeking in a teacher-student romance? When the group dislikes the beauty contest results, she claims to know the perfect candidate but can’t recall her name. All I can say is, you’ve got to be kidding me. Ultimately, without self-promotion, she was chosen. Playing hard to get, she half-heartedly accepted becoming the project’s core—a masterstroke of scheming. Should the experiment succeed, she’d become an equal project participant alongside the professor, not merely an assistant. Consider her actions in the parking lot: when the professor was mistakenly accused of harassment while teaching her, she didn’t stop the vigilante from attacking him—revealing her cunning depth. The signal she sent the professor was clear: I’m not necessarily yours, and you can’t control me. I’m the one steering this ship now, and hitting you is just a little lesson. As the project’s linchpin, the professor had no choice but to implicitly acknowledge her status and dominance—both in their personal relationship and professionally.
Later, everything went smoothly until Wu Xiaohui discovered the professor’s romantic relationship and caused a scene in class. He even said things like “Shut up, bitch,” which severely damaged her reputation and genuinely caused trouble in her real life. Thus, at the critical third stage, she said she didn’t want to do it anymore, effectively meaning the project was abandoned. In other words, the project’s existence must bring me significant benefits, but not only did it fail to do so, my real life suffered, and my mental state deteriorated. She told the professor it was cruel. He replied, “You think it’s cruel to him?” Note this is phrased as a question, implying: He’s just a lowly guy—what cruelty could there be? Even if he died, it wouldn’t matter. Didn’t we agree on this long ago? Otherwise, why would he be so eager to throw himself into this project? The protagonist said, “It’s cruel to me.” The professor responded, “Cruel to you? That I don’t understand.” The subtext here is: “Didn’t you beg to be part of this?” The protagonist replies, “There’s a lot you don’t understand.” To protect her or limit damage, he even considered scrapping the project and hiding. The professor’s lie was so transparent—he clearly didn’t see her as human. Then she was discovered. Alan Tam blocked the car. She refused to speak up, telling the professor to handle it. Fine, you’re the woman—hide if you must.
But things spiraled out of control, becoming impossible to shake off. How did she resolve it? By marrying the professor. This way, no matter what, the female lead would come out ahead—her efforts wouldn’t be wasted. She called the priest for the wedding, figuring divine authority would at least spare her a beating. But it didn’t work. The other party refused to swallow such a massive loss and caused a huge scene at the ceremony. Speaking with righteous indignation from the bottom of her heart, she argued her case with conviction. Her core argument: “I may be lowly, but you treat me like trash. This game won’t fly with me. You offer zero compensation—don’t even mention the tooth gap. I’ll take you down with me. I’m already at the bottom.” She feigned death for release, and it almost worked. But judging by the expressions, the professor might have had a change of heart. What she whispered to the heroine? My guess: “We’re just not right for each other. Forget it. Go with him.” This way, the professor is off the hook too. She never wanted to marry such a woman—first, their social statuses were clearly mismatched; second, she harbored suspicions about the protagonist throughout their long “love experiment” (like that night at the villa park); third, she was practically coerced into marriage. In the end, seeing that this marriage would never work, they both agreed: Forget it. Let’s call it a day. A happy ending for everyone. In the end, everyone gets what they want. The group achieves flexibility: retreating means cutting losses by halting the project—avoiding endless accountability for manipulating subjects. Advancing means retaining researchers to refine flaws and proceed. Alan Tam gets the heroine—success. The professor secures academic progress and results—success. (The male lead deems it successful; outcome-wise, it is—he’s learning and improving.) There’s also a more terrifying possibility: the professor believes that to motivate long-term dedication, the love machine must be sacrificed after the experiment. In the end, he and the female lead reach some kind of agreement in the hospital ward. The female lead wanted to maximize her gains. The process involved some losses and lack of control, but it was better than having nothing at all (if her sacrifice was part of some agreement with the professor and the consortium…).
Perhaps my inner darkness led me to overinterpret this. Let’s just laugh it off for now.
Please specify：Anime Phone Cases » The Other Side Of Gentleman 1984 Film Review: The more you think about it, the more terrifying it becomes—a happy ending where everyone is a villain.