The previous scene left us with the feeling of ice breaking, even though it carried a mournful tone. We now expect the atmosphere to change between Mr. Chan and Mrs. Chow. And it does, but Wong Kar-Wai is more interested in showing us how the fundamentals between them remain the same.

It’s common for love stories to end on a bittersweet note. Filmmakers naturally rebel against the traditional form of movie romances, especially the “happily ever after” conclusion. But the way directors play around with form are normally reserved for the film’s final act.

“In The Mood for Love” is far more radical — it’s a love story that never allows its characters to share romantic love onscreen. It withholds, makes them ache, leads us to believe something will pull them together, then refuses to allow it, even when they do, technically, begin an affair.

You would think this would be frustrating for an audience, but somehow it’s not — this is one of the most beloved films of the century. Why does it work so well?

The rain scene ended with the characters in a cab about to consummate their love. But Wong does not show us what comes next. Instead, we see a slow pan across a radio dial and a voice telling us song dedications. It includes Mr. Chan — on business in Japan — wishing his wife a happy birthday, a bit of gallows humor for a cuckolded husband to deliver to his wife indirectly.

Next, there is a beautiful juxtaposition of the lovers sitting in their apartments. First we see Mrs. Chow, her apartment a bit cluttered but alive — there’s a tea kettle boiling behind her that she’s ignoring. She’s lost in a reverie, leaning back in a chair, her back against the wall. The camera slowly pans, going to black, then opening up into Mr. Chan’s apartment. Viewers might have forgotten by this point that they live so close to one another, sharing a building wall.

Mr. Chan is in a far more austere apartment, which you might expect from a home with a woman missing. There is a wok and clay baking pot in the background, probably rarely used. Mr. Chan is fiddling with a rice cooker, a reminder that he acquired this from one of Mr. Chow’s (and perhaps also his own wife’s) trip to Japan.

The camera pans back, slowly, to Mrs. Chow. She’s still leaning against the same wall, still daydreaming, still ignoring the boiling kettle.

We then see a telephone. We don’t know who’s calling or who’s not picking up. We just know that a connection isn’t happening. The phone is just another piece of furniture, an artifact of disappointment.

The familiar Siemens analog clock returns, a sign that we are looking into Mrs. Chow’s workplace. but we don’t see activity in the office, no faces. We get just a disembodied voice, that of Mr. Chan, making one last attempt to bring them together. He asks if there is one more ticket (presumably to Singapore) and if there is, would she like to come with him?

There’s another slow pan, this time into their hotel room, 2052. Mr. Chan is there alone. He is a waiting for her. He smokes, the grins briefly for reasons we cannot know., but perhaps is triggered by a memory of their last visit to the room. His look becomes melancholy. Then he turns off all of the lights in the room and leaves. We see Mr. Chan in a long, slow tracking shot in the hallway. It fades out.

Next, we see Mrs. Chow rapidly walking down stairs. She seems to be late for something — likely to meet him. And now she is in the room, waiting. We see through a mirror a triple show of Mrs. Chow. There’s a quick cut out to the hotel hallway, empty, red drapes following. Then it’s back to Mrs. Chow in the hotel room. A tear drops from her right eye.

And then we hear it again, the telephone request for her to join him in Singapore. Perhaps her presence in the room is a tardy, withheld affirmation. But Mr. Chan is not there to receive it.

Wong’s emotional austerity elevates longing and frustrated desire into a higher cinematic plane than the sex and love we’re used to experiencing vicariously. It does not have a spiritual dimension, but it feels similar. “In the Mood for Love” features ache as art.