Do you all still remember that line from Stephen Chow in "The King of Comedy": "I am an actor!"? This edition of "MVG-131" begins with the female lead, Ema Futaba (二葉エマ), who voluntarily submits to "facial punishment." Isn't this sense of voluntariness reminiscent of that line from Stephen Chow—she's not just a performer, but an active director scripting her own destiny? The film opens with slow, wandering shots that gradually build the female lead's inner struggle and desire, much like Faye Wong peeking into Tony Leung's room in "Chungking Express"—that tension of voyeurism and being gazed upon sets the emotional tone for the entire piece. The film's structure is divided into three acts: self-revelation, the climax of punishment, and inner release. In the first act, the female lead speaks in a tone almost like confession, recounting her "sins," which reminds me of Leslie Cheung's monologue in "Ashes of Time": "The more you try to forget something, the clearer it becomes." Her voluntariness isn't merely a fetish; it's a challenge to her own boundaries. The "punishment" scenes in the second act are like the tough street confrontations in "Young and Dangerous" with Chan Ho-nam, boldly displaying the clash of power and submission. In the final act, the female lead's sense of relief after the punishment is akin to Maggie Cheung gazing at a departing figure in "Days of Being Wild," leaving behind a wordless freedom. Director Hakujin Shizuku in this work overlaps with elements from classic Hong Kong films: first, the use of extensive close-ups focusing on the female lead's facial expressions, similar to how Johnnie To captures eye contact in slow motion in "Running Out of Time"; then, each strike of the facial punishment is magnified into a ritualistic image, paired with subdued music to create the oppressive atmosphere of the standoff between Lau Ching-wan and Lau in "The Mission." This extreme visual treatment forces the audience not just to "watch," but to "feel." What stands out is the film's restrained use of color, dominated by cool tones with red lighting dotted in the climax scenes to symbolize emotional outbursts. This evokes the color shifts in Maggie Cheung's cheongsam in "In the Mood for Love," where every hint of red footnotes an emotion. "MVG" employs a similar technique to externalize the female lead's psychological state as visual symbols, allowing viewers to sense the inner turmoil beyond mere sensory stimulation. Ema Futaba is not just a passive figure but a complex character who actively chooses "punishment," much like Cheng Dieyi's obsession with the role of "Yu Ji" in "Farewell My Concubine." As the line goes, "Without madness, there is no success." Her voluntariness isn't a fixation on pain but an extreme pursuit of self-awareness. This psychological depth elevates this AV beyond simple sensory thrills, turning it into a dialectical exchange about the self and the other. The essence of Hong Kong cinema lies in amplifying extreme personal emotions into universal value conflicts. "MVG-131" does the same within its niche subject, exploring universal human themes: freedom and restraint, pain and pleasure, self and others. The female lead's choice of "facial punishment" is like Mark Gor's decision to end his fate with gunfire in "A Better Tomorrow"—it's a challenge to destiny and a reconciliation with the self. Just as in "City on Fire," where Chow Yun-fat tells Brigitte Lin, "I don't want you to be unhappy because of me," the female lead in "MVG-131" seeks not pain itself through punishment, but a certain freedom achieved through it. This might be the common ground between AV and Hong Kong films: they both use exaggeration to tell the most sincere stories of humanity.