Coinciding with the Hong Kong Pop Culture Festival 2026, the 25th anniversary of the Hong Kong Film Archive, and what would have been Leslie Cheung’s 70th birthday, The Kid took centre stage at the Grand Theatre of the Hong Kong Cultural Centre. Director Jacob Cheung Chi-leung and the main cast – Ti Lung, Lam Ka-tung, Cheung Tung-joe, and Erickson Ip (the former child actor) – made a surprise appearance on stage. 

When Ti Lung proclaimed to the crowd, “A thousand gold pieces cannot buy tonight’s joy; ten thousand gold pieces cannot replace the love of the past,” the audience felt a sharp sense of sadness and began to look back on old memories. His words brought to mind Love of the Past, the theme song from A Better Tomorrow – the film in which Ti Lung and Leslie starred together – prompting everyone in attendance to imagine what it would be like if Leslie were still here.

The 1997 Asian financial crisis took a heavy toll on Hong Kong’s economy, and the local film industry was no exception. Film production slowed dramatically during this turbulent period, placing the industry in a precarious position. In an effort to address the severe market downturn, more than 20 local directors formed the “Creative Alliance” in 1998 to produce high-quality films. The initiative encouraged directors to develop their own stories, keep production costs to a minimum, and invite leading stars to accept reduced fees in exchange for a share of future profits. Driven by his commitment to Hong Kong cinema, Leslie Cheung accepted a symbolic salary of just one dollar for his role. Although the project was born out of both passion and necessity, The Kid was ultimately the only film produced under the alliance’s banner.

Filmed during a widespread financial crisis, director Jacob Cheung situated the story within the same reality developing outside the studio. Although he was aware of the prevailing sense of gloom in society, he deliberately avoided making the film overly bleak. Instead, he aimed to tell a story about holding on to hope and believing that even the worst crises eventually pass.

Wing (Leslie Cheung), a high-flying stockbroker, is completely bankrupted by the market crash. On a rainy night, stripped of his wealth, career, and relationship, Wing discovers an abandoned infant by the pier. This foundling, Ming (Erickson Ip), becomes his salvation. Moving to a dilapidated rooftop apartment, Wing created a new life detached from his past life, which was fast-paced and glamorous, but it was ultimately hollow, devoid of human touch. His new life, though physically messy and scruffy on the outside, is sustained by the most sincere and heartwarming bonds between a makeshift father and son. Wing and Ming saved each other, becoming one another’s refuge and enduring source of stability.

However, this hard-won balance is shaken when concerns arise over the child’s future in such an unstable environment and with limited resources. The woman who once abandoned her infant out of poverty has since become a wealthy businesswoman. She offers to take custody of Ming, so the child can have better care and a more promising upbringing, while also freeing Wing to finally pursue his long-delayed dream of becoming an astronomer.

Through this painful choice, the film shows what love truly asks of a person. Wing first saves an abandoned infant out of pure kindness, even though they share no blood relation, and then gives up his own career and future out of responsibility and care. In the end, he makes the heartbreaking decision to return Ming to his birth mother so the child can have a more secure and comfortable life. In this story, love is shown as a willingness to let go of what you most cherish for their sake. To raise a child is not just to provide food and shelter, but to give time, attention, and presence, to play with them as a companion, and to always consider what is best for them, even when it hurts the most.

In his forties at the time of filming, Leslie delivers a natural and honest performance, shedding his superstar image to play an unshaven, scruffy father whose face carries a steady resolve to protect his son at all costs. It is easy to feel warmth watching the care and tenderness Wing pours into raising Ming, which makes the later separation all the more heartbreaking. The on-screen chemistry between them feels so genuine because of Leslie’s real attentiveness to his young co-star during filming. He spent extra time bonding with the child actor, building trust and a real sense of comfort so the child would feel safe and fully at ease with his on-screen father.

Just as Wing and Ming find comfort in each other during a time of economic collapse, the film’s 2026 restoration reminds us that cinema can preserve a common memory and keep it alive. Once lost, The Kid returns only because of its creator’s persistence. Director Jacob Cheung personally tracked down the remaining print overseas and funded its restoration, reflecting the same spirit at the heart of the film itself: refusing to let something meaningful be lost to time.

The Kid is a reminder of an era when Hong Kong filmmakers looked into crisis and chose solidarity instead of despair. Even after twenty-six years, Jacob Cheung’s long-standing commitment to telling working-class stories that speak directly to audiences remains unchanged, continuing to offer comfort in difficult times.

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Written by Jade Wong

Featured image courtesy of Hong Kong Film Archive

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