Herman Yau and Anson Kong took their new socially conscious thriller “We’re Nothing at All” to this year’s Far East Film Festival. Yasmine Chan was on hand to chat with the director while Rino Lu caught up with the star

Herman Yau’s filmography showcases a career built on efficiency and an ability to work across genres and budgets, spanning everything from Category III exploitation cinema (The Untold Story) to action films (Shock Wave) to socially conscious dramas (From the Queen to the Chief Executive). But with We’re Nothing at All, Yau steps into unfamiliar territory – seizing complete creative control in what is his first self-financed film.

And Yau has another crowd-pleaser on his hands. The film won an audience award at this year’s Hong Kong International Film Festival and after the international premiere of We’re Nothing at All at this year’s 28th Far East Film Festival (FEFF) – staged in Udine, northern Italy – the applause is deafening. Yau admits the morning after that he was both surprised and moved by the audience’s reaction. “It wasn’t out of politeness,” he says. “I never imagined it could create such a response.”

Yau first emerged as a cinematographer in the late 1980s, going on to work with the likes of Michael Hui (The Magic Touch) and Tsui Hark (Seven Swords) while also establishing himself as one of the city’s most prolific – and acclaimed – filmmakers in his own right. He now has more than 100 productions to his credit and continues to cast his creative net wide, while keeping social issues close to his heart.

Lau’s latest film opens with a bus explosion – an arresting image loosely inspired by an incident on a bus in Wuhan in 1998. Rather than simply reconstructing that event, Yau uses it as a narrative framework, examining
the social pressures that drive individuals towards extreme acts. From there, “We’re Nothing at All” unfolds as an investigation into marginalisation and the ways structural forces shape personal tragedy. The film’s visceral portrayal of victims contributed to a delayed domestic release, following the tragic fire in Tai Po, yet the film’s preoccupations feel sharply contemporary, speaking to enduring questions of class, sexuality and social indifference.

We meet Yau in a bustling room on the sidelines of FEFF, crowded with journalists and filmmakers shuttling between interviews. Amidst the noise, Yau is disarmingly candid, speaking passionately about the project. Reflecting on his career, he jokes: “I think this film was worth making. The earlier films were worth making money from.”

Completing We’re Nothing at All, he adds, feels like the fulfilment of a long-held dream. Over the course of the conversation, Yau reflects on the film’s origins, its treatment of sexuality and class, and what creative freedom means in an industry where constraints are never entirely absent.

We’re Nothing at All is loosely inspired by the 1998 Wuhan bus explosion. What was it about that incident in particular that drew you to use it as a starting point for a film?

That case involved two people who were pushed to the edge by society, and in the end their despair led them to commit an extreme act. You could give this framework to any director or screenwriter, and insert different social issues into it depending on the region. The Wuhan bus incident itself was the result of many factors – social systems, the environment, economic relations, all of that. The details of this case aren’t important, and honestly, I don’t really care about them. I just borrowed the framework as a way to develop the story.

As the story develops, the main characters’ experiences are largely shaped by how their sexuality is perceived. Was this something that emerged naturally from the characters, or did it become clearer as you developed the film?

The film isn’t really about them being gay. Of course, that’s an important element, but what the film really addresses is how society as a whole oppresses these two people. When I was writing the script, the oppression they face wasn’t primarily because they’re gay, but because of their social class – on top of being gay. People in Hong Kong say they accept homosexuality, but usually that acceptance only applies to middle-class, glamorous figures. Someone like Leslie Cheung. To put it bluntly, if you’re a poor gay person, you’re considered undesirable. Poor gay men in particular are looked down on by other poor men. Among the lower levels of society, people trample on and oppress each other. That’s what’s truly bleak.

Patrick Tam’s character, Lung Sir, also carries this tension in a different way, particularly through his pansexuality. Why did you feel it was important to include this dimension as part of his character?

In gender studies, pansexuality has long been seen as progressive, and in many ways it still is. Compared to bisexuality, pansexuality covers a broader spectrum. I wanted the film to feel more up to date. Ten years ago, hardly anyone talked about pansexuality. It existed academically, but it wasn’t a widely used term. Today, at least within the LGBTQ community, the term is fairly common. When I was writing, I never thought of Lung Sir as someone who “turned straight”. He likes both men and women; if there’s mutual attraction, love is possible. The film also doesn’t try to define Andrew (Thor Lok) in a rigid way. He works with both men and women, but the film doesn’t go into detail about his sexuality. What’s shown clearly is that, in his work, he serves female clients, but emotionally, we only see his relationships with Ike and Lung Sir. The viewers can interpret that as they wish.

This is your first self-financed film. After so many years of working with external investors, was there any personal or professional change that made you feel this was the right step?

From a business perspective, it’s a huge risk. By selffinancing, you’re the only one in trouble if it fails. But in terms of my reputation with investors, I’ve always made money for them. I’ve had losses before, but more than 90% of my films have made money for investors. Maybe more, maybe less, but they’re profitable. I’ve maintained that reputation. Honestly, if this film becomes a big hit, an investor would definitely say, “Why didn’t you let me make this?” That would absolutely happen.

With this film, did you feel able to explore emotions or ideas that you wouldn’t normally be able to reach?

Social issues. Now that audiences accept the film, I’m of course happy and relieved. At the script stage, and even on the first day of shooting, I worried that the film might be dealing with too much. If audiences see everything as standalone issues, the film loses focus. I had expectations, but I wasn’t completely sure. Fortunately, through the characters, audiences felt the issues were connected, so the film didn’t come across as fragmented. That’s the general feedback I’ve seen online. Of course, there are individual criticisms, but overall people felt the film worked as a whole.

People often associate self-financing with total creative freedom.

That’s not true. You still have to be cautious. Freedom is always limited. But relatively speaking, you have more freedom – at least you don’t have to answer to a boss.

Were there any additional constraints that came with that?

No. The constraints I face now are the same ones all filmmakers face. It’s not as if I have more and others have less. Everyone has to exercise caution. In Hong Kong, you have to pass film censorship. For co-productions, you need to obtain the film public screening permit –the socalled “dragon label”. This is the same everywhere. Look at Iranian filmmakers. They face enormous restrictions and still make incredible films. Or look at Jia Zhangke. He faces so many constraints, yet he remains brave and makes great works.

Character Study

Anson Kong – the Hong Kong pop singer, dancer, actor and member of the boy band Mirror – had no qualms about taking the role of a man living at the edge of society in Herman Yau’s latest crime drama “We’re Nothing at All.”

The film tells the story of two desperate souls – both marked by social marginalisation and by troubled family backgrounds – who decide to end their lives together by exploding a bomb on a bus on Valentine’s Day. It gradually delves into the underlying relationship between two ordinary individuals, ignored by the mainstream, which in turn reflects a broader queer community that still exists very much on the fringes of Hong Kong society.

Kong plays the unflinching Fai, a construction worker burdened by financial pressure and problematic parents. He has to deal with unpaid wages and a lingering, complicated same-sex relationship. Meanwhile, his encounter with another man, Ike, brings fleeting warmth and companionship, providing moments of consolation for his lost self. However, harsh reality soon destroys their prospects for the future and pushes them onto a darker path, ultimately turning the story into a tragedy.

It’s a definite change for Kong, whose career was launched when he joined the wildly popular boy band Mirror in 2018. As witnessed in Udine, the 33-year-old has fans all over the world – they travelled to Italy from as far afield as New York and Finland. Until now, Kong’s acting career has included roles as action heroes and rom-com leads on TV and the big screen. But in We’re Nothing at All, he changes direction.

Partnered with Ansonbean, who plays Ike, Kong delivers a convincing performance, bouncing between emotional restraint and outbursts. One impressive moment comes in a scene where his character is forced into committing a crime, and Kong’s trembling in his eyes, as well as the twitching in his facial muscles, convey a vivid immediacy that reveals the character’s inner state.

The film served as the opener for this year’s Far East Film Festival, the largest film festival in Europe dedicated to Asian genre cinema. After this European premiere, Kong spoke about the challenges the role presented, and the experience of working with the prolific Yau for the first time.

What specific preparations did you make before shooting “We’re Nothing at All”? When approaching this role, what was the first thing you focused on?

To prepare for the filming of “We’re Nothing at All,” I spent a lot of time wandering the streets specifically to observe people – watching what they’re doing and how they carry themselves these days. My primary focus was simply capturing the rhythm of their daily lives.

What were the main difficulties and challenges between this film and your previous roles?

I think the biggest challenge this time was how far removed the character is from my own personality and life experiences. It was also my first time working within this specific genre, so that was definitely a steep learning curve for me.

When portraying the character Fai, how did you immerse yourself in the role, given you haven’t gone through some of his experiences or situations?

Leading up to the shoot, I had extensive discussions with the director to map out the character’s backstory and the motivations behind his habits. We built this foundation together to bridge the gap between us, allowing me to deepen my familiarity with Fai and fully inhabit the role once we started filming.

Could you talk about your first-time collaboration with director Yau? What kind of guidance or suggestions did he give you?

I was honored to collaborate with Director Yau for the first time. Throughout the production, he offered invaluable technical guidance and creative insight. Given his background as an exceptional cinematographer, I often consulted him on camera placement and the rationale behind specific framing. Regarding my performance, he utilised a very distinct methodology that helped me stay grounded and fully transition into the character’s emotional state.

What did your collaboration with Ansonbean feel like? How did you come to understand the differences between your two characters? Did anything emerge between you two during the process that you hadn’t anticipated?

Working with Ansonbean this time was such a pleasure. We had actually crossed paths briefly on Ink at Tai Ping, but we only shared a single scene back then. Reconnecting on this project, I really appreciated his approach – he’s incredibly open and bold as a performer. His natural energy and enthusiasm made it so much easier to break the ice, allowing us to bridge any gap quickly and work together to really bring this story to life.

The characters in the film all seem to carry a sense of marginalisation. When shaping these roles, were you concerned about them falling into certain stereotypes?

Regarding the marginalised nature of the characters, when I was developing my role, I purposefully avoided approaching it through the narrow lens of sexual orientation. Given the character’s background, he had never truly experienced the nuances of romance or intimacy. Consequently, he was defined more by a profound emotional void and a fundamental need for connection. It just so happened that Bing’s character was the one to offer that sense of belonging. Had that connection been formed with a woman, I believe his choice would have been the same. For that reason, I chose not to pre-set any specific labels, focusing instead on his universal need for love.

What kinds of roles or genres would you like to explore next? Do you see your career leaning more towards acting in the future?

I’m open to exploring all kinds of possibilities. However, I’m particularly interested in trying my hand at an actionthriller or something involving gunplay – that’s a genre I haven’t had the chance to experience yet and would love to dive into.

Also see: 5 things to know about Renate Reinsve, the star of A24’s “Backrooms”