The relationship between modern cinephiles and Tony Leung feels almost inseparable. When Film at Lincoln Center mounted a focused retrospective for the actor, the screenings filled quickly: films that feature Leung drew persistent demand in the 268-seat Walter Reade. The series coincided with the release of Ildikó Enyedi’s Silent Friend, a movie that showcases one of the actor’s most restrained turns and highlights how his face and presence have evolved across decades on screen. For longtime viewers, the retrospective served as a visual ledger of an artist who has accumulated nuance rather than spectacle.
On his first visit to New York since The Grandmaster‘s release in 2013, Leung offered a quiet, candid presence. He speaks in a measured voice, alternating between thoughtful pause and sudden warmth, qualities that feel inseparable from his on-screen method. Dressed casually—an understated dark Adidas tracksuit—he deflects fanfare and fosters easy conversation rather than performance. That lack of affectation seems to be part of his approach to work: rather than cultivating a public persona, he arrives as a collaborator who prioritizes trust and the work itself over self-presentation.
A career mapped in small gestures
Leung traces his breadth of work back to a period often called the golden age of Hong Kong cinema. Over time he has moved between romantic restraint, physical action and psychologically intense material—films like Cyclo, The Longest Nite, Lust, Caution and even the original, unsettling end of In the Mood for Love sit alongside quieter pieces. That variety, he says, comes less from a master plan than from a willingness to experiment. By inhabiting extreme or gentle characters in turn, he uses each role as a probe to discover limits and possibilities within himself, a process that leaves traces long after a shoot wraps.
Collaboration and craft
On-screen trust and preparation
The shape of a scene often depends on the relationship between performers. For Leung, trust allows for real-time exploration: when co-stars become friends, improvisation and risk feel possible. He points to the camaraderie formed with Leslie Cheung on Happy Together—learning tango, practicing Spanish and sharing meals in Buenos Aires—as the groundwork for the film’s emotional honesty. Similarly, working with Maggie Cheung demanded an authentic affection that cannot be faked; audiences will sense whether that spark is genuine. In short, he treats collaboration as relational work: rehearsal, time spent together and mutual curiosity produce on-screen truth.
Working across rooms and screens
In Silent Friend, much of the communication happens across devices, and that shaped how Leung and Léa Seydoux prepared. They initially met at the Venice Film Festival and later shared a few dinners in Marbach, Germany, before shooting. Because their characters remain physically separate and their connection is mediated by technology, rehearsal often meant coordinating in adjacent rooms and running sequences in real time. For Leung, that distance made the relationship deliberately shallow on screen and meant less need for prolonged off-camera intimacy—an approach that matched the film’s quiet contours and the logistical realities of an international production.
Chance, ambition and future projects
Leung describes his international work as largely serendipitous: offers arrive, interest sparks, and he follows projects that feel compelling rather than following a charted path. Still, there are ambitions he has not yet realized. He expressed a strong desire to collaborate with Japanese filmmakers—he named Kiyoshi Kurosawa specifically—and he admires newer auteurs such as Ryusuke Hamaguchi, praising Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy for its conversational realism. After meeting Hamaguchi at an Asian festival, Leung even asked to view the director’s unreleased black-and-white work, signaling an appetite for creative cross-pollination.
Plans with Johnnie To and open possibilities
Longstanding relationships have also led to concrete plans: Leung and Johnnie To have discussed a project set initially in Hokkaido, but strict firearms licensing scuttled that location, prompting them to consider alternative settings. He hopes the collaboration will happen after he completes two current commitments. As for reunions with past collaborators like Wong, Leung remains open but noncommittal—”who knows?”—reflecting an attitude that combines aspiration with patience. He insists that many decisions arise from circumstance rather than strategy, and that multiplicity of chance has been a defining feature of his career.
Finally, Leung spoke about how he detaches from demanding roles: he retreats from industry social life, returns to private routines and lets time ease him back into himself. He admits some films linger, and at the time of our conversation he still felt an affinity with his Silent Friend character. The film is entering a limited release on Friday, May 8, and the retrospective at Film at Lincoln Center offered an occasion to witness both the subtlety and the cumulative power of a long, varied career.