A Better Tomorrow: Three Films, Twelve Coats, Zero Emotional Stability
- Niels Gys
- Nov 18
- 3 min read
TL;DR
Watching this trilogy feels like chain-smoking loyalty, reloading guilt, and dancing through gunfire with the world’s most emotionally constipated criminals.
The A Better Tomorrow Trilogy isn’t a series, it’s a full-body emotional car crash in slow motion, wrapped in cigarette smoke and unearned confidence.
And it’s glorious.
Thinking of diving into Woo’s bullet-soaked opera? Prep like a criminal with the real stuff:
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Criminal Fantasy Fulfillment
There are crime films where you quietly root for the villains.
And then there’s A Better Tomorrow, where you cheer for them so loudly your neighbours start locking their doors.
These movies feel like John Woo stood up one morning, slapped the world with a trench coat, and declared: “From now on, criminals are sexy, noble, and devastatingly bad at making healthy life choices.”
Every gunshot feels like an apology. Every apology is followed by a bigger gun. And every character walks with the emotional stability of a washing machine that’s swallowed a brick.
It’s perfect.
Plot & Pacing
The pacing moves at the exact speed of a man trying to outrun responsibility.
Which is to say: fast, sweaty, and frequently in slow motion for added dramatic flavour.
Nothing drags.
Nothing bores.
Nothing gives you time to ask, “Wait, why is everyone yelling?”
Because the answer is always the same: Brotherhood, betrayal, and cigarettes, in that order.
Characters & Performances
You haven’t seen charisma until you’ve seen Chow Yun-fat hold a gun like he’s presenting the Eucharist.
These characters are not merely characters. They are:
walking heartbreaks,
smoky loyalty monuments,
men who clearly should not be left alone with matches,
and icons of ‘I love you, bro, but if you betray me I will shoot everything except the furniture.’
They feel real.
And by “real,” I mean emotionally unstable but doing their best, like everyone you know who refuses therapy because “it’s fine.”
Dialogue & Writing
Subtlety?Woo has never heard of her.
The writing is big, loud, sentimental, and delivered with the conviction of a man confessing his sins to the wrong priest at the wrong funeral.
Every line feels like a declaration of war or love, and sometimes both.
But it works, because the emotional sincerity is so intense it could melt steel beams.
World & Atmosphere
Hong Kong here looks like a neon-soaked opera house designed by someone who wanted to weaponize feelings.
There’s smoke.
There’s rain.
There’s more dramatic lighting than a Eurovision final.
You don’t watch these films, you soak in them like a criminal bath bomb.
Because loyalty is priceless, but Blu-ray sure isn’t.
Direction & Style
John Woo doesn’t direct action. He choreographs man-pain.
Doves fly.
Guns twirl.
Bodies fall like tragic confetti.
Everything is operatic, theatrical, bold and just when you think you’ve seen enough slow-motion, Woo gently taps your shoulder and says: “One more. For the emotions.”
Soundtrack & Mood
The music is so dramatic that if you played it while pouring coffee, your kitchen would immediately turn into a moral crisis.
It’s 80s synth with the emotional weight of twelve broken promises. It doesn’t accompany the scenes, it demands your attention like a toddler with a trumpet.
Morality & Madness
The morality of this trilogy is simple: Crime is bad, but loyalty is holy.
And if the two clash… well, enjoy the fireworks show.
You’ll root for men who make decisions so catastrophically bad they should come with a government warning.
But you’ll still think:“Bless their hearts, they’re trying.”
Rewatchability
These movies age like leather jackets and bad ideas: better every year, rougher every corner, and infused with the scent of pure cinematic rebellion.
Perfect for rewatching when you want drama without thinking — or thinking without feeling too stable.
FAQ — Clarkson/Mays/Hammond Edition
Is A Better Tomorrow Trilogy worth watching? Yes — unless you hate style, emotion, and criminals who cry like men on the last day of summer camp.
Does it still hold up in 2025? Absolutely. The coats alone deserve their own museum exhibit.
Is it violent? Of course. But in a classy, emotionally-tormented way. Like if ballet dancers had unresolved family issues.
Do I need to watch all three films? Yes. That’s like asking if you should eat all the fries you ordered. Don’t insult me.
Will I understand the plot? Mostly. But even if you don’t, you’ll be too dazzled by the drama to care.
If you loved this review more than your moral compass, fuel the syndicate:
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