In the late 1980s, Hong Kong cinema was experiencing a golden era defined by kinetic action, breathtaking stunt work, and a unique blend of genres. Standing tall amidst the heroic bloodshed of John Woo and the kinetic comedy of Jackie Chan was the visionary producer Tsui Hark and director Ching Siu-tung. Together, they crafted a trilogy that redefined the supernatural genre: A Chinese Ghost Story.
Spanning from 1987 to 1991, this trilogy is a masterclass in "Hollywood Chinese" filmmaking—a term used to describe the industry's high-gloss, high-energy output during the handover era. It is a saga of undying love, slapstick comedy, terrifying monsters, and gravity-defying martial arts.
Proved the franchise could continue without a ghost heroine. Established the sequel formula: new villains, returning hero, reincarnation/lookalike love interest.
Few fantasy-horror-romance hybrids have aged as gracefully—or as wildly—as Tsui Hark’s A Chinese Ghost Story trilogy. Produced during Hong Kong cinema’s golden era of genre-mashing excess, the three films (1987, 1990, 1991) take a delicate 17th-century ghost tale from Pu Songling’s Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio and turn it into a kinetic, tragicomic, wire-fu opera of doomed love and Taoist exorcisms. a chinese ghost story i ii iii 198719901991 full
Part I: A Chinese Ghost Story (1987)
Director: Ching Siu-tung (produced by Tsui Hark)
The cornerstone. A hapless debt-collector, Ning Caichen (Leslie Cheung), gets stranded at a haunted Lanruo Temple. There he meets Nie Xiaoqian (Joey Wang), a ghost enslaved by a hideous tree demon (Lau Siu-ming) to lure men for consumption. Their romance is impossible—she’s dead, he’s broke—but the film sells it with swooning melancholy and breakneck action. The iconic scene: Xiaoqian floats through the moonlit forest while Ning plays a guqin, her white ribbons snaking like silk veins.
What makes it a masterpiece is tonal whiplash. One minute, it’s slapstick (Ning stumbling into a monk’s oversized martial arts training). The next, it’s a horror show of giant tongues and corpse puppets. Then it pivots to genuine tragedy: Xiaoqian’s soul trapped in an urn, Ning digging up her bones to reincarnate her. The finale—a cyclone of swords, spells, and burning trees—remains a benchmark for Chinese fantasy action.
Part II: A Chinese Ghost Story II (1990)
The rare sequel that expands rather than repeats. Years later, Ning is freed from prison (wrongly accused as a demon collaborator) and stumbles into a new mess: a government conspiracy where a high monk’s heart is needed to revive a thousand-year-old centipede demon. Joey Wang returns as a lookalike mortal, Fong (cleverly avoiding resurrection clichés), while Michelle Reis joins as another ghostly fighter. In the late 1980s, Hong Kong cinema was
The action is bigger, the politics more pronounced (corrupt officials are literal parasites), and the humor broader (a sword-swallowing Taoist played by Wu Ma). But it loses some intimacy. The love story feels contractual, and the centipede demon lacks the tree demon’s perverse charm. Still, the final battle—a collapsing mansion, flying swords, and a giant arthropod puppet—is glorious mayhem. Grade: B+, but essential for seeing the mythology stretch.
Part III: A Chinese Ghost Story III (1991)
A soft reboot disguised as a sequel. Set 100 years after Part I, with a new monk (Tony Leung Chiu-wai) and a new ghost, Lotus (Joey Wang again, now a fiery red-clad spirit), while the tree demon and a venomous butterfly demon (Jacky Cheung, scene-stealing) return. The plot mirrors the first film—monk falls for ghost—but the mood is darker and stranger. Jacky Cheung’s butterfly demon is a tragic fop who vomits glittering poison; Tony Leung’s monk breaks his vows for love.
It’s the most experimental of the three: less wire-fu ballet, more body horror and Buddhist guilt. The ending rejects the first film’s bittersweet reincarnation for something bleaker—no one gets saved. For that reason, it’s divisive. But as a coda, it asks: What if Ning and Xiaoqian’s love was just a fluke, and most ghost-human romances end in ash? Where to find them – Restored versions exist
Why they still matter
The trilogy is a time capsule of pre-CGI Hong Kong craft: rain-soaked sets, hand-pulled wires, and synthesizer scores that sound like a haunted karaoke machine. Leslie Cheung’s wide-eyed sincerity and Joey Wang’s ethereal sadness anchor the fantasy. More importantly, they treat ghosts not as monsters but as refugees of an unjust afterlife—a metaphor for Hong Kong itself in the lead-up to 1997.
For a modern viewer, watch Part I for the poetry, Part II for the chaos, and Part III for the hangover. Together, they form one of cinema’s strangest, most beautiful love letters to the impermanence of everything.
Where to find them – Restored versions exist on Blu-ray (Eureka, 88 Films) and various streaming platforms (Criterion Channel occasionally). Avoid dubbed cuts; the original Cantonese/Mandarin audio is essential for the melancholy.