15 year old Cho have run away from home and her parents (Carrie Ng & Tats Lau) seemingly unable to do anything themselves turn to Cho's grandfather, retired Mainland cop Wu (Lo Lieh) for help to search the streets of Hong Kong for her. He is aided by young girl P (Zeny Kwok) who claims she is Cho's loan shark, but in reality is as lost as Cho is. P and Wu do not get along easily at first due to age difference and views on the world and respect. It's soon apparent though that both share feelings of loneliness inside their hearts and an uncommon bond is founded between them.

Disillusion is the key theme here and it's easy to draw comparisons with Made In Hong Kong and Spacked Out while still safely saying that Carol Lai has made a drama that she can proudly call her own. This time it's not just the abandoned youths that is focused on but also what justly can be claimed to be the cause of that state, the adults, and it's here the even older generation in this case steps up.

There's always the two feelings of excitement and frustration that can set in when examining a work that's only been discussed sparsely. Questions revolve in your head regarding the directions we're heading but I'm glad to say Lai early on firmly plants a feeling of excitement. Once again, Hong Kong cinema's strength of theme portrayal in its simplicity and how that can weave movie magic is on display thanks to Lai's carefully measured work. Not that niggles are hard to find, because they are in there and in retrospect, one of her crucial character introductions really is totally off, that of Zeny Kwok's P. She is seen randomly assaulting a woman but when we get to know her, she's clearly a street-girl, doing drugs, living a loose lifestyle but not in any way that violent! Lai's point is clear, that of youths completely having derailed, but it's too much. Thankfully, we're soon smoothly integrated into a low-key character drama between two different people from much different generations, and this is where Lai's instincts flourish fully.

It's been said by filmmakers such as Paul Thomas Anderson that you as a director need to do very little if you've done your homework at the writing stage. Even two people simply talking within one frame can be mesmerizing if you've provided performers with the goods to work with. For Glass Tears, it is simply a marvelously spellbinding time at the movies as Zeny Kwok and Lo Lieh walk around Hong Kong, in a search of Cho and dueling it out psychologically. She's clearly someone who thinks she can dominate him by claiming he's nothing but Wu at the same time commands respect in so many ways, leading to a very poignant part of the movie where P realize she needs backing, a lifeline if you will, to survive even alone. A little girl is still a little girl, something she learns, and subsequently the basic, but very important lesson of respecting your elders. Wu may not be a perfect character with a lifetime of perfect choices but his frustration with the environment around him is valid. As is his harsh ways of shaking life into various characters either in the form of violence or simply setting them straight through dialogue.

No dialogue exists between the husband and wife and boy what a black, drab section of this film is. Bleakness can in worst case, believe it or not, borderline on cartoonish if not planted in a frame that exudes reality but thankfully Carrie Ng and Tats Lau's characters do reside in one. They're balancing their lives on that very last thin thread and are so much going through the motions that no action is taken on their behalf when their daughter runs away. You certainly don't blame the daughter for wanting to break out or being molded into what she is and even though the marriage lack anything resembling love, a scene in the movie reveals a fear on the wife's behalf of being left behind as she follows Tats Lau's character around Hong Kong. Also ones that need a jolt and and a wake-up call. A much accomplished and restrained section of the film, these performers live up to the writing and works in tune with the understated nature of Carol Lai and Lai Ho's writing.

And Lai continues to plant these themes and happenings in a simple, subtle frame, mostly devoid of arthouse sensibilities although they're largely overindulgent when they do hit. Characters are developed enough to get us going and built throughout to make us move forward, and Lai's basic direction is some of the most rewarding in movies when done right. Yet, it's not perfect as the the latter reel demonstrates.

I don't blame Lai for wanting to spend time herself and wanting us to spend time with P and Wu but she sacrifices good pacing when doing that. It basically feels like 2 or 3 scenes too many with them and there are already established developments so those scenes are only screen-time filler. Also, Tsui Tin-Yau's character seems to have no place in this narrative, other than to be a male youth sidekick. I can see Lai later establishing through him that these youths are not only aimless, disillusioned but rather stupid but I didn't need an additional character to tell me that. The surrounding ones communicated that well enough already. Carol Lai learnt not to indulge as much for her sophomore effort The Floating Landscape but instead that came with flaws that made the movie less real than I wanted. But hey, with this much talent, and not in any way in sporadic bursts, already brewing, Carol has a bright future, at least critically.

Talking acting, newcomer Zeny Kwok is one of those rough talents that fits in with the streets her character is inhabiting, having adopted a street-smart sensibility but still being a dependent little girl. She shares an easy going chemistry with Shaw Brother's veteran, the late Lo Lieh that again makes Glass Tears for the majority of the proceedings, a really spellbinding, simple experience. One that Lo Lieh should be largely credited for as he brings both coolness, warmth, anger and heart, giving us a spot on last performance. There's no doubt that he dominates every frame he's in but thankfully not overpowering his fellow young actors. It can be said in several paragraphs but I'll leave it at this:

We miss you Lo Lieh.

Carol Lai's Glass Tears certainly remains a very solid debut work with touches of great character drama that remains suitably simply executed. While not perfect all throughout, there's much to be swept away by in the story about old and young not so much colliding but reaching a common, and unexpected understanding about themselves. Both uplifting and tragic, on screen and behind it, Glass Tears is a splendid finale for one of the greatest, Lo Lieh and a quality start for what perhaps will be one of the great ones as well, Carol Lai.

A phone call alerts ex-policeman Wu (Lo Lieh) to the fact that his grand-daughter Cho has run away from home once again. Travelling to Hong Kong to see her parents, Wu finds them to be somewhat apathetic regarding Cho's situation and therefore resolves to find her himself. Putting his old police training into practice, Wu manages to dig up a few clues as the her whereabouts. His task is given an unexpected boost when a young girl, calling herself P (Kwok), agrees to help find Cho insisting that the runaway owes her money. At first the significant age difference means that the two parties fail to see eye to eye and P tries to escape from Wu's watchful eye more than once. However, as the search continues, both of them see that there is a common theme of loneliness and listlessness in both of their lives. This unlikely union brings to the surface questions about both of their sad lives and the real circumstances of Cho's disappearance.

Though certainly rough around the edges, Carol Lai's work is a far stronger vision of youth than the aimless, yet critically lauded 'Gimme Gimme'. While both productions seem to have the intention of showing how frustratingly self-important Hong Kong teenagers seem to be, 'Glass Tears' relies more on a sense of pathos that gradually develops - a move that, eventually, proves to be a well chosen one. The friendship between the initially annoying P and the cool, calm Wu is intelligently fleshed-out; there are no grand gestures between the two which helps ground their journey in reality. Lai intentionally leaves many unanswered questions about all of her characters, especially Cho's parents. This mostly works as it tries not to justify some of the less pleasant sides of the characters' edges, though it does sometimes seem as if P's wastrel mother is offered as some kind of excuse for her faux arrogance.

While 'Glass Tears' is a solid debut for Carol Lai, it has a few signs of directorial imaturity within it. Despite good photography on the part of Tony Cheung, Carol Lai lets the atmospherics get diluted by pointless camera trickery. The mood of uncertainty and the admirably off-kilter world created by the production team is undone by these empty MTV-isms. It almost seems that Lai is trying out every camera style in the book without making any of them look convincing. Due to this problem, 'Glass Tears' looks very much like a directorial debut - albeit quite a promising one.

Even though the bemusing over-stylisation and occasionally grating character 'quirks' detract from the overall effect of 'Glass Tears', there are still a few excellent performances to savour. Lo Lieh is an actor who wass never really given the thespian credit he deserves; often his masterful performances in classic Shaw Brothers films were foolishly overlooked. In one of his very last roles, Lieh excels, taking a slightly underwritten character and breathing life into him. At the other end of the age scale, Zeny Kwok impresses as P - her work here, coupled with the performance she gave in 'Merry Go-Round' is an indication of her promise. Meanwhile in the background, Carrie Ng and Tats Lau Yi-Dat are convincingly cold as Cho's distant parents. in conclusion then, 'Glass Tears' is a debut that scores with its fine performances, but is let down by uneven work behind the lens. Nevertheless, Carol Lai followed this up with 'The Floating Landscape', a work that showed what an important local film-maker she will undoubtedly become.

REVIEW
The kids in Carol Lai’s Glass Tears, Cho and P and Tofu, live on the street in Hong Kong. Cho’s family came from the Mainland, and her father wants to go back. Wu is Cho’s grandfather, a retired Chinese policeman. When the 15-year-old runs away, Wu uses his police skills to track her, while also coming to terms with his family’s dissolution. He tails Cho’s best friend, and finds himself caring about the street kids - he’s kind of an old punk himself. The story isn’t so much about finding Cho as it is about Wu and P and Tufu creating, briefly, a kind of family bond.

The "lao hu," or Old Tiger, of the movie is played by veteran kung fu actor Lo Lieh. Carol Lai’s story gives Lo a chance to use his ability, common in actors trained in martial arts, to advance the story wordlessly. He can suggest "cop" with just a tilt of a cigarette or the angle of a glance. He seems to inhabit the role of the retired cop - you can read the cop’s history in Lo’s body language. As he questions P about his granddaughter, he keeps the girl off balance by shifting between the roles of concerned relative and professional investigator. It’s fun to see Lo show off the lifetime expertise he honed in the old school, hard grind HK film industry, when he would make 2 or 3 movies at a time. He’s also a gifted and subtle comedian, and P responds to this playful quality by turning their encounters into a game, and then a challenge - does he really want to know what’s going on?

Glass Tears shows Hong Kong as a giant cage. People move among grids and behind bars, are numbed out by life, or trying to escape. This movie doesn’t feel cold though - there’s a sweetness to it that may not accurately reflect life on the HK streets. It works better as a fable. Tofu’s encounter’s with Wu - the initial bullying, then probing for vulnerability, and finally settling into the traditional "little brother" role - recapitulate a favorite kung fu movie archetype. The fight scenes, choreographed by Donnie Yen protégé Kenji Tanigaki, are short but satisfactory. The language bounces from Cantonese to Mandarin, with regional accents and P’s "street" intonations in between, but somehow the characters all understand each other. Hong Kong is the new melting pot, and Glass Tears shows how the old stories and the new cultural influences are being braided into a new pattern.