You’ve probably seen Reservoir Dogs. You know the scene—the Mexican standoff, the suits, the undercover cop bleeding out in the back of a car. Most people credit Quentin Tarantino with inventing that specific brand of cool, hyper-violent nihilism. But if you really want to know where that DNA comes from, you have to look at Ringo Lam and his 1987 masterpiece, City on Fire. It isn't just a "Hong Kong action flick." It’s a bleak, sweaty, desperate character study that basically dismantled the "Heroic Bloodshed" genre while it was still being built.
Hong Kong in the late '80s was obsessed with brotherhood. John Woo was making movies where guys in duster coats fired two guns while pigeons flew around in slow motion. It was operatic. It was romantic. Then Ringo Lam showed up with City on Fire and punched the audience in the mouth. He didn't care about "cool" in the traditional sense. He cared about the dirt under the fingernails of the undercover life.
The Undercover Nightmare of Ko Chow
Chow Yun-fat plays Ko Chow. At the time, Chow was the biggest star in Asia, usually seen as the invincible Mark from A Better Tomorrow. In Lam’s hands, he’s a wreck. Ko Chow is an undercover cop who’s been deep in the muck for too long. He’s tired. His girlfriend is threatening to leave him because he’s never around. His bosses are manipulative bureaucrats who treat him like a disposable tool.
The plot kicks off when a gang of jewelry thieves starts tearing through Hong Kong. Ko Chow is sent in to infiltrate them. What happens next isn't your standard "good guy vs. bad guy" setup. Lam does something much more uncomfortable. He makes the villains—specifically Fu, played by the legendary Danny Lee—the only people who actually treat Ko Chow with any shred of humanity.
Think about that for a second. The "hero" is being betrayed by the law and supported by the criminals. It’s a mess of morality. Ko Chow finds a kindred spirit in Fu. They’re both just guys trying to survive a system that doesn't care if they live or die. When the inevitable jewelry store heist goes south, the movie stops being a thriller and becomes a claustrophobic tragedy.
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Why City on Fire Isn't Just Reservoir Dogs' Older Brother
It’s the elephant in the room. Tarantino has been vocal about his love for 80s Hong Kong cinema, and the similarities between the final act of City on Fire and Reservoir Dogs are impossible to ignore. The standoff in the warehouse? The "cop-as-thief" bonding? It’s all there. But if you only watch Lam’s film to spot the references, you’re missing the point.
Ringo Lam was a realist. While other directors were focused on the choreography of the gunfights, Lam focused on the impact of the bullets. His action is messy. People scream. They get terrified. In the famous jewelry store robbery, the violence feels chaotic and panicked, not rehearsed. This was part of Lam’s "On Fire" trilogy (alongside Prison on Fire and School on Fire), a series of films meant to reflect the boiling social tensions in Hong Kong leading up to the 1997 handover.
There’s a specific grittiness to the cinematography. It feels like you can smell the exhaust fumes and the cheap cigarettes. Lam didn't want to show you a fantasy version of the city. He wanted to show you the version where people get stuck in traffic while a robbery is happening two blocks away.
The Performance That Defined Chow Yun-fat
We need to talk about Chow Yun-fat's range. Honestly, it’s easy to forget how good he is because he makes it look effortless. In City on Fire, he isn't playing a "God of Gamblers" or a "Killer." He’s playing a guy who is genuinely scared of losing his soul. There’s a scene where he’s trying to reconcile with his girlfriend, and you see the exhaustion in his eyes. He’s a man who has lied so much that he doesn't know who he is anymore.
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Compare this to Danny Lee’s performance. Lee was famous for playing cops (seriously, the guy played a police officer in almost every movie). Here, he’s the criminal. By flipping the script, Lam forced the audience to question their own loyalties. You want Fu to escape because he’s a loyal friend, even though he’s a violent robber. You want Ko Chow to get out, but you know that even if he survives, he’s broken.
Ringo Lam’s Visual Language
Lam didn't use many tricks. You won't find the stylized lighting of Wong Kar-wai or the intricate camera pans of Johnnie To. Instead, he used the city itself. Hong Kong is a character in this movie. The crowded streets, the narrow hallways, the neon signs that feel more oppressive than beautiful.
His editing style was jagged. He’d cut from a moment of quiet tension to a burst of violence so fast it gave you whiplash. This wasn't "action for the sake of action." It was an expression of the environment. If you live in a pressure cooker, eventually it's going to blow. That’s the philosophy behind Ringo Lam’s direction.
The Legacy of the "On Fire" Series
While City on Fire gets the most international attention because of the Tarantino connection, it was part of a larger movement. Lam was obsessed with how institutions fail the individual.
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- Prison on Fire looked at the corruption of the penal system.
- School on Fire (perhaps his most brutal film) looked at how the education system and triads destroy the youth.
- City on Fire looked at the moral rot of the police force.
These films weren't just hits; they were cultural milestones. They captured a specific sense of anxiety that felt very real to people living in Hong Kong at the time.
Misconceptions About the Film
One thing people get wrong is calling this a "martial arts" movie. It isn't. There are no wire-fu stunts. No one is doing backflips. It’s a "policier" in the vein of Jean-Pierre Melville, but with a raw, Cantonese energy. Another misconception is that the film is "slow" until the end. While the pacing is more deliberate than a modern blockbuster, every scene is building the psychological weight that makes the final standoff work. If you skip to the action, the ending doesn't hit the same way.
Why You Should Care Today
In a world of CGI-heavy action and superhero movies where the stakes feel non-existent, City on Fire feels shockingly tactile. When someone gets hit, they stay hit. The emotional stakes are grounded in things we all understand: loyalty, the fear of being alone, and the struggle to do the right thing when the "right thing" is a lie.
Ringo Lam passed away in 2018, and the film world lost a giant. He wasn't always the easiest director to work with—he was known for being demanding and intense—but that intensity is exactly what makes his films live forever. He didn't make movies to please everyone. He made them to tell the truth about how hard the world can be.
Practical Steps for Cinema Lovers
If you want to truly appreciate what Ringo Lam did, don't just stop at this one movie. The "Heroic Bloodshed" era is a rabbit hole worth falling down.
- Watch the 'On Fire' Trilogy in Order: Start here, then go to Prison on Fire. It will give you a sense of Lam's cynical worldview.
- Compare with Full Contact: This is Lam's other masterpiece with Chow Yun-fat. It’s much more stylized and "rock and roll," showing how Lam could adapt his style.
- Look for the 4K Restorations: For a long time, the only way to see these movies was on grainy VHS or poorly transferred DVDs. Recent boutique labels have released beautiful restorations that let you actually see the detail in the shadows.
- Read about the 1997 Handover: Understanding the political context of Hong Kong during the '80s and '90s changes how you view the "hopelessness" in these films. It wasn't just a stylistic choice; it was a reflection of a society facing an uncertain future.
City on Fire remains a masterclass in tension. It’s a reminder that the best action movies aren't about the guns—they’re about the people holding them.