Johnnie To’s Office is a film of frameworks. The production design of William Chang and Alfred Yau is literally that; most, if not all, of the exterior and interior settings are metallic, paint-coated framings. To and screenwriter Sylvia Chang go full-Brecht and let setting remain intellectually functional. Physical obstruction is not really a part of this world. It appears as if sheetrock and plywood were never conceived because buildings, homes, and constructed objects are only present in representation. Space matters because of what it contains; it’s thematic. The filmmakers want you to see place, to be fully aware of its there-ness. But Office’s main concern is the framework of human ambition. The film’s distanced, cold, glossy design presses the audience into the only interiors which provide familiarity for the audience: the heart.
Office is about the world of Jones & Sunn, an investment firm in Hong Kong about to go public. But setting, again, is of the utmost importance – the film takes place right before the global financial crisis of 2008. The audience enters this corporate kingdom through the eyes of the enthusiastic new recruit Lee Xiang (“Lee for Ang Lee, Xiang for dream,” his big-eyed slogan). But like any good musical (yes, this is a musical!), the narrative doesn’t linger solely on Xiang. No one single person is this film’s focus, because this is a film about a kingdom.
Adapted from her stage play Design for Living, Chang spins this world of unfettered, bleak capitalism from the most Shakespearean of narratives. It’s one that gets at the very heart of our times. Even as kings and queens and pawns and pieces are toppled, the kingdom and those who bolster it will always stand. The elite survive. The film’s narrative of human consequence is softened by its musicality, which plays as sincere melodrama. It heightens the emotional and vocational turmoil of the characters which puts distance between the audience and the film’s hardened, mordant bite.
The storytellers do well, though, not to play to the taxonomy of the corporate kingdom by observing its characters without bias. Each one is full of layered conflict. Choices of happiness and ambition collide for all, from the chairman to the peon. Chang and To work with deft hands to craft a story that is epic in scope yet specific in milieu. Vocational life is often quite mundane, but the nuances of office politics are made into grand gestures with often grave consequences. Information is withheld from one person by another. Identities are veiled. Relationships are taken advantage of. Gossip and chatter lead to downfalls. Even small office romances can be fatal decisions. It might be melodrama but it’s still shocking to see such mundanities carry such cosmic weight.
Given its deep theatrical roots, To and cinematographer Siu-Keung Cheng have no issues moving around this world. This is cinema before it is stage play. The director’s unique mobile finesse and perfectly-timed choreography are on full display. He navigates through crowded subway frames with a nimble stride. He gives scope and scale to a staged high-rise as modernly designed as it is a binary matrix of metal and glass. He even finds strong thematic resonance with heavy use of CGI. These elements play up the artifice in order to pinpoint the true culprits of corruption, be it greed-soaked coolness or true love (and lovers) scorned for ambition.
By the end of Office, both the film’s physical and thematic world are fully-realized prisons. But the truly fascinating thing about Office is how genre serves as the biggest obstruction. This is a modern rock musical full of rousing, thumping, wonderfully composed music. To’s Minnelli-like camera fluidity, the impeccable performances from central cast to extras, and resonant lyrics all work together to fend off the dark heart at the center of this story. It’s easy to get caught up in it all. But we mustn’t forget that these characters are full of greed and lust. Some speak of love, yet everything is a power play. By the film’s end, even the bright, vivacious dreamer, Lee Xiang, is touched by the dark lure of power, even if he is a passive participant.
Chang doesn’t have to set this story in America for Westerners to get it. The dark matter of capitalism reigns globally. Love is just another surface for ambition. That’s why the choice to center this tale of ambition in the trappings and tropes of a musical is brilliant. Now there are certainly bleak musicals, but Office makes sure to not wear despair on its sleeve. It is rousing because greed is rousing. It is compelling because we’ve all been told “work is family” and wanted to believe it. It’s easy because we all know office politics, where gossip and upward mobility go hand-in-hand. Chang and To posit the corporate ladder as an ascent from a lower hell to a hotter one. From the first floor, the seventy-first looks appealing, yet the elevator must always come back down.
Johnnie To is known as an action filmmaker, and it becomes obvious why To was attracted to this work. At the heart of this film is a tale of primordial violence. Despite some violent scenes, Office is not a physically violent film; it’s morally violent. Greed is the fight. The corporation is the battlefield of the heart. If To and Chang can get you to see the thing itself, its makings and its entrapments, then maybe the heart can truly win the battle.