The Legend of Zu (2001)

The Legend of Zu (2001)

Aka: Zu Warriors
Chinese Title: 蜀山傳

Translation: Legend of Shu Mountains

Starring: Ekin Cheng Yee-Kin, Louis Koo Tin-Lok, Cecilia Cheung Pak-Chi, Kelly Lin Hsi-Lei, Zhang Ziyi, Jacky Wu Jing, Sammo Hung Kam-Bo, Lau Shun, Patrick Tam Yiu-Man, Wu Gang

Director: Tsui Hark

Action Director: Yuen Woo-Ping

I would go on a limb to say that The Legend of Zu represented the first fruits of the international success of Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon. A costume fantasy? Check. An acclaimed director? Check. Yuen Woo-Ping directing the action? Check. A member of CTHD’s cast showing up for a paycheck? Check—in this case, it was Zhang Ziyi. 

For this particular effort, Tsui Hark, hot on the heels of Time and Tide, convinced investors to foot the bill for a big-budget remake of his own groundbreaking fantasy epic, Zu: The Warriors of Magic Mountain. Both films were based on the novel Legend of the Swordsmen of the Mountains of Shu by Huanzhulouzhu, although this film is almost completely unrecognizable from the earlier film, save for Sammo Hung wearing the same get-up he did that, and a brief moment where see Cecelia Cheung dressed in the same blue dress Brigitte Lin wore in the earlier film. Everything else is a bloated, incomprehensible CGI mess that is more exhausting to watch than anything else.

The film starts with some title cards and a narration informing us that the Shushan, or Zu Mountains, in the Sichuan province (bordering on Tibet) are the home to lots of legends and mysticism. The narrator informs us that the peaks of the mountains have become home to a race of demi-gods who train in the martial arts and use the region’s mystical energies to lead them into a constant state of rebirth, thus guaranteeing them immortality in this world. I guess the difference between that and the birth-rebirth cycle of regular mortals that is described in Buddhism is that the inhabitants of the Zu mountains who are reborn often do so as adults and can access their old memories from previous lives with enough meditation and martial training. So it feels less like living a new life than it is continuing an old one in a new body.

All of that puts the film into Xianxia territory, which is different from wuxia in terms of storytelling mechanics. Wuxia pian involves itself with the Wulin (i.e. The Martial World) and the Jianghu (i.e. the swordsman and martial artists who inhabit it) and although some of the esoteric martial arts styles may be outright supernatural, they are still people fighting against other people. Xianxia delves deeper into the fantasy genre, where the characters are often what sources call “Cultivators,” people who try to achieve immortality based on magic and supernatural powers, which are rooted in Taoism. Stories that involve conflict between heavenly, mortal and demon realms fall into the Xianxia genre. And The Legend of Zu ticks all of those boxes.

The film opens the Kunlun Peak in the Zu mountains, where Dawn (Cecelia Cheung, of The King of Comedy and Running on Karma) is passing her final teachings to her student, Sky King (Ekin Cheng, of The Storm Riders and Heroic Duo). Apparently, Dawn should be indestructible, but she has allowed her feelings for Sky King to keep her from reaching her potential. At that moment, a swarm of CGI skulls (referred to as “evil spirits”) show up and destroy Dawn. But she leaves her signature weapon, the Moon Orb—a large crescent blade that can fly around according to the user’s thoughts—to Sky King.

Some time later, the Ormei School, led by Whitebrows (Sammo Hung, of The Millionaire’s Express and Filthy Guy), is prepping its students to fight against the evil spirits, who are under the control of a powerful demon named Insomnia. There is a huge battle of CGI effects between Insomnia, Sky King, and Red (Louis Koo, of Paradox and Warriors of Future), who is Whitebrows’s senior student. The fight drags on quite a bit and, at one point, both men are forced to fight their clones. Whitebrows is ultimately able to defeat Insomnia, but a piece of him is broken off and flees into the Blood Cavern.

Our heroes can’t use their powerful weapons in the Blood Cavern, lest they get absorbed by the locale’s magic. So, Whitebrows leaves Red to watch over the entrance to the cavern while he reconvenes at the Ormei school to consult with Buddhist priest Master Transcendental (Lau Shun, of Swordsman and A Chinese Ghost Story Part II) as to how to defeat Insomnia. They come to the conclusion that the Heaven and Thunder swords can be combined to create a superweapon surpassing all limits. 

But to combine them requires something resembling a Dragon Ball Z level of fusion between their respective holders—Enigma (Cecelia Cheung again) and Thunder (Patrick Tam, of The Duel and A Chinese Tall Story). For the record, Enigma is, as you guessed, a reincarnation of Dawn. The two Ormei students attempt the fusion for the good of the universe. Thunder hesitates (or gets distracted or something) at the last second while attempting the fusion and blows up. 

Whitebrows and Transcendental are able to reincarnate Thunder in adult form as Ying (Jackie Wu Jing, of Wolf Warrior and The Wandering Earth). However, it will take time for him to re-learn his martial arts skills and become “illuminated,” which will allow him to remember his previous life. Whitebrows retreats from the Zu Mountains and leaves Sky King in charge of Ormei. Sky King tries to help Enigma recall her previous life as Dawn—and almost burns himself to death trying to transfer the ownership of the Thunder sword to himself. Meanwhile, Red is just chilling at the mouth of the Blood Cavern and befriends a little pixie named Amnesia (Kelly Lin, Fulltime Killer and Running Out of Time 2). She turns out to be a minion of Insomnia and possesses Red, transforming into an evil angel. Plus, there soldiers who fight with razor-sharp vertebrae swords, mystical blue flames, new weapons, a giant monster made of CGI blood, and Zhang Ziyi thrown in for good measure!

Watching The Legend of Zu is a frustrating experience. The movie has that same breakneck pacing that a lot of Hong Kong films, especially 1990s wuxia pian, have, but almost nothing resembling real exposition. The film depends on one’s familiarity either with the source material, of Chinese wuxia and fantasy tropes in order to understand the story. And even then, there are enough characters, powers, and secret weapons that there is no time to explore any of it. It almost feels like an RPG in which the dungeon master was just making up lore as he went along…or perhaps a particularly-involved hard fantasy novel series in which Tsui Hark adapted Book Five (of Seven) and left out all the backstories and magic mechanics described in earlier entries. It’s simply impossible to developing any feelings for the characters amidst the deluge of fantasy plot tropes thrown at the viewer at dizzying speeds and CGI miasma assaulting one’s senses.

The Miramax trailer for the 2005 straight-to-DVD release was rather dishonest. Zhang Ziyi was still basking in her fame from CTHD; Rush Hour 2; and Hero (“presented” by Quentin Tarantino) when this finally reached American shores. So the trailer was cut and narrated to make it sound like she was an integral part of the story: the human warrior who must team up with a god (Ekin Cheng) in order to save the world from Evil. Anyone who expected much from her was surely disappointed. Zhang Ziyi plays the daughter of a mortal general stationed in the lower heights of the Zu mountains who travels to the peaks in order to join the Ormei school. But she really does not contribute anything to the actual story and the resolution of the external conflict. It is mainly an extended cameo by someone who was really popular at the time.

Viewers who were hoping for Yuen Woo-Ping to give us more of his wire-fu magic like in Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon will be sorely disappointed with The Legend of Zu. All of the action is CGI nonsense. Louis Koo’s Red is a little neat in that his initial form has him fighting with razor-sharp metallic wings like X-Men’s Archangel. But yeah, mainly “swords” that are manifested as beam weapons and stuff like that. The only real martial sequence is a brief sword fight between Zhang Ziyi and Wu Jing, which is not related to the actual narrative. It’s like the filmmakers said, “We have this martial arts actor and this actress that people think knows martial arts, we should probably have them fight…for some reason.” The choreography in that scene isn’t bad, but it is far from enough to satisfy fight fanatics. And to think that the entire film needed three action directors—assisting Yuen is his protégé, Ku Huen-Chiu, and Tsui Hark regular Yuen Bun—just boggles the mind.

Tsui Hark would follow this disappointment with Black Mask II and Era of the Vampires (aka Tsui Hark’s Vampire Hunters). It wouldn’t be until 2005 that Tsui Hark would get his touch back with Seven Swords, which was him doing for Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon and those films what his own The Blade had done for movies like the Swordsman trilogy and Butterfly and Sword. Frankly, he should have stuck making loopy Jean-Claude Van Damme action vehicles than a lot of these films. Heck, I would have liked to have seen a JCVD film choreographed by Yuen Woo-Ping.

Time and Tide (2000)

Time and Tide (2000) Chinese Title: 順流逆流 Translation: Forward flow reverse flow

Starring: Nicholas Tse Ting-Fung, Wu Bai, Anthony Wong Chau-Sang, Cathy Tsui Chi-Kei, Candy Lo Hau-Yam, Joventino Couto Remotigue, Joe Lee Yiu-Ming, Jack Kao Kuo-Hsin, Kenji Tanigaki, Cheung Hung-On, Raven Choi Yip-San

Director: Tsui Hark

Action Director: Xiong Xin Xin

Nineteen Ninety-Five was an uneven year at the box office for visionary Hong Kong director Tsui Hark. On one hand, his star-studded Lunar New Year offering The Chinese Feast was a massive success. On the other hand, his other two movies were two enormous flops at the box office. One of them was Love in the Time of Twilight, which had hoped to capitalize on the success Tsui’s The Lovers from the previous year. Even worse was the box office failure of The Blade, his deconstructionist take on wuxia pian and what would essentially be the nail in the coffin for the early 1990s wire-fu boom (save a couple of stragglers).

After that, he turned his sights to Hollywood, as his colleague and former collaborator John Woo had done and was seeing reasonably good dividends in so doing. After all, the turnover of Hong Kong back to China was looming on the horizon and nobody knew what would happen to people’s rights, let alone the ability to express themselves artistically. Much like Woo (and Ringo Lam after him), Tsui Hark’s arrival in Hong Kong was done via a Jean-Claude Van Damme flick, the deliriously entertaining Double Team. Unlike Woo, who worked with Van Damme when the latter was at the peak of his mainstream popularity, Tsui Hark was given these projects during the actor’s decline. Both Double Team and it’s follow up, Knock Off, were modest successes at best, if disappointments at the local box office.

Between 1996 and 1999, Tsui Hark only directed one Hong Kong production. That was A Chinese Ghost Story: A Tsui Hark Animation. Tsui had previously produced the popular 1987 fantasy film, which Ching Siu-Tung had directed. I have not seen it yet, but my understanding is that it falls in the realm of “pretty good,” with decent animation being disrupted by unconvincing CGI enhancements.

Time and Tide was supposed to Tsui Hark’s “triumphant” return to Hong Kong (live-action) cinema: a stylish action film with the heart that was missing from his two Hollywood outings. The film currently enjoys a 6.7 score at the IMDB, which suggest that he was mostly successful. There is still a contingent of fans who find the film soulless in comparison to his earlier movies. I find myself taking a middle ground between those felt that “the real Tsui Hark is back” and those who watched it and longed for the days of Zu: Warriors from Magic Mountain.

The narrative is…odd. Tyler (Nicholas Tse, of Invisible Target and Dragon Tiger Gate) is a barista working at some club in Hong Kong. One evening, he catches a lesbian couple having an argument: one of girls leaves in a huff; the other, Jo (Cop Shop Babes’s Cathy Tsui), goes to the bar in hopes of getting high. She and Tyler get drunk instead and Jo wakes up the next morning in Tyler’s apartment…in his bed. Jo turns out to be a cop and accuses Tyler of slipping her a roofie and raping her. In any case, Jo finds out that their drunken tryst occurred during her fertile period and is now pregnant.

Nine months later, Jo is a few weeks away from labor and Tyler is trying to help her (especially after discovering that she has left the Force). Tyler hooks up Uncle Ji (Anthony Wong, of Princess D and The Big Bullet), a former loan shark who now runs an unlicensed bodyguard business. In a series of bizarre coincidences, Tyler starts fantasizing about making a lot of money and moving the Brazilian coastal city of Aracajú (in the state of Sergipe) to start a new life. Meanwhile, in Aracajú, a team of mercenaries led by Miguel (Joventino Couto Remotigue, of Badges of Fury and SPL 2) is robbing an armored car with a box full of money. Miguel and his team work for a crime lord named Pablo Santosa (Raven Choi, of the Young and Dangerous films and Downtown Torpedoes). I guess all this is supposed to be a juxtaposition of one’s dreams of finding a paradise against the harsh reality of modern urban life anywhere, but it feels contrived.

On one of Tyler’s jobs, him and Uncle Ji’s team have to serve as bodyguards for a Mr. Hong (The Legend of Speed’s Joe Lee) at his birthday party. In attendance is Hong’s estranged daughter, Josephine (Candy Lo, of No Problem 2 and Vampire Super), and her husband, Jack (Taiwanese singer Wu Bai, who was also in Mrs. K). Josephine is pregnant, about as far along as Jo. It is suggested Mr. Hong disapproves of her marriage to Jack on account of social standings. There are rumors of an assassination attempt—Mr. Hong has some Triad connections—and it is Jack who informs Tyler of the assassins. Although Tyler thwarts the assassination attempt, Uncle Ji doesn’t see it and thinks Tyler is slacking off. Nonetheless, this is the start of a friendship between Tyler and Jack (and Josephine by extension).

It's at this point that things start to get complicated. Jack turns out to be a former mercenary from Miguel’s team. Moreover, he came to Hong Kong to “hide” the money from one of their jobs and more or less ducked out of the business. Well, Pablo Santosa and Miguel’s team are now in Hong Kong and need to shore up accounts with Jack. They give him a job: assassinate Mr. Hong (his father-in-law). He turns on Santosa and kills him instead. As Tyler and Uncle Ji were working as bodyguards for Santosa during the hit, Tyler finds himself drawn into the conflict between Jack and Miguel.

Time and Tide is weird in that it doesn’t feel like it abides by the typical three-act structure for cinematic storytelling. Instead, it almost feels like a movie in two halves. The first half establishes the numerous characters, their relationships with each other, and the external conflict involving the South American mercenaries. The second half is a running action sequence that starts at public housing estates in the To Kwa Wan district, moves into Kowloon station, and ends at Kowloon stadium. 

It is also a movie in which the main protagonist, Tyler, does very little to contribute meaningfully to the action. He really is just a poor sap who consistently finds himself in the wrong place at the wrong time and survives thanks a combination of luck, assistance from others, and pure moxy on his part. He is almost the Hong Kong equivalent to Jack Burton when you think about it. Nicolas Tse actually does a pretty good job in the role, even though he is less of a badass than one might expect the main character to be.

That leaves the action duties to Wu Bai, playing Jack the Mercenary. I’m guessing that Wu Bai was heavily doubled during the action sequences, which require him to rappel his way through the stairwells of apartment buildings and slide around like Sub-Zero while firing guns with frightening accuracy. The actresses, Cathy Tsui and Candy Lo, have their moments, especially the latter. Much like Double Team, the climax does involve a pregnant woman, a newborn baby, and the very danger of the baby getting killed in action. But no explosions blocked soda machines here.

The action was staged by Xiong Xin Xin, who had been collaborating with Tsui Hark ever since the days of Once Upon a Time in China. Xiong had actually done some of the fight choreography for Double Team and astute viewers may find some similarities between the action in both films. The hand-to-hand combat is limited to what I would refer to as “wire-assisted grappling.” The gunplay is stylish, but in its own way. John Woo movies tend to be stylish, full of slow-mo and astronomical body counts. Johnnie To gunplay tends to be quirky in terms of the character interactions, accentuated by dreamy, surreal touches. 

The gunplay in Time and Tide tries to balance “stylish” and “acrobatic” with “tension-building” and “suspenseful.” There are some memorable moments, like Jack and Miguel rappelling of the sides of an apartment building while firing automatic weapons at each other, or a pitched fight between two men and a woman who has just given birth over a loaded gun. There is definitely a blackly funny aspect to the action (see also the scene where the SWAT team commander warns his men about how dangerous and “heavily armed” Tyler is, despite the fact that we the viewer know he has been carrying a toy gun for most of the film).

Time and Tide has style to spare. And it tries to tell a story. And it tries to have a human side to it. But different from other classics Tsui Hark has directed, these elements tend to get in each other’s way, especially when it comes to Tyler’s relationship with his baby’s momma, Jo. I think a little more could have been done with that part of the story. But if you like over-elegant gunplay, you might enjoy this. Personally, I prefer Double Team and Knock Off.

Dragon Inn (1992)

Dragon Inn (1992)
Aka: New Dragon Inn
Chinese Title: 新龍門客棧
Translation: New Dragon Gate Inn

 

Starring: Maggie Cheung Man-Yuk, Brigitte Lin Ching-Hsia, Tony Leung Ka-Fai, Donnie Yen Ji-Dan, Xiong Xin-Xin, Lau Shun, Elvis Tsui Kam-Kong, Yen Shi-Kwan, Lawrence Ng Kai-Wah, Yuen Cheung-Yan
Director: Raymond Lee
Action Director: Tony Ching Siu-Tung, Yuen Bun, Cheung Yiu-Sing

 

As I’ve stated in other reviews, after The Swordsman resurrected the wuxia film in 1990, it brought with it some new rules. More importantly than the whole wire-fu trended it helped to propagate, it established that every new wuxia film should 1) be an adaptation of an existing wuxia novel (preferably by Jin Yong or Gu Long) and/or 2) had already been adapted to film by the Shaw Brothers. Case in point: The Swordsman was an adaptation of Laughing and Proud in the Martial World (or however you want to translate Xiao Ao Jiang Hu) by Jin Yong and was adapted by the Shaw Brothers as The Proud Youth in 1978.

When Tsui Hark and his Film Workshop studio (with the help of Ng See-Yuen and Seasonal Films) decided to tackle King Hu’s classic Dragon Inn, it sort of a tangent of Rule #2: Dragon Inn had been a Taiwanese production, but King Hu made it after leaving the Shaw Brothers, so it sorta counts. It is also an all-around excellent remake, following the same story while adding enough quirks of its own to establish its own identity.

In the Ming Dynasty circa 1457, the empire is well on its way to becoming a police state. The eunuchs of the Eastern Depot have amassed a lot of power, having been placed in charge of the empire’s secret police. In this case, these eunuchs, led by Cao (Donnie Yen, of 14 Blades and Iron Monkey), have established the Black Flag Army. Composed of the best martial artists in the land, the Black Flag Army is in charge of arresting, torturing and executing all of the Emperor’s enemies. More importantly, they are in employed in securing the power of the Eastern Depot itself.

As the story opens, the Eastern Depot has arrested the Emperor’s Minister of Defense on the grounds of being a rebel rouser. In fact, the Minister of Defense realized just how much the Eastern Depot was abusing their power and had a letter sent to the Emperor to rat them out. Apparently, the letter itself was intercepted by the Black Flags and now the Minister is in their custody. Eunuch Cao has him tortured and murdered, and then orders the slaughter of his entire family, save two of his children.

Why save his children? Well, one of the minister’s most loyal retainers was a general named Zhao Huai’an (Tony Leung Kar-Fei, of Cold War 2 and Island of Greed). General Zhao holds enough power to represent a threat to the Eastern Depot, so Cao wants to kill him, too. Therefore, he uses the children as bait to lure him out into the open and sic the Black Flag soldiers on him. That doesn’t quite work as planned: instead of General Zhao showing up, it’s his lover, Qiu Mo-Yan (Brigitte Lin, of The Swordsman 2 and Deadful Melody), who comes to the rescue with the help of some mercenaries (including Yen Shi-Kwan and Yuen Cheung-Yan, who fought each other in Once Upon a Time in China). After a pitched battle with the Black Flag Army and Cao’s other eunuch cronies, Qiu and her team make a break for it and disappear into the desert.

In order to reach the border and get the hell out of China, our heroes have to travel across the desert to the Dragon Pass. The closest bastion of civilization in those parts is a small establishment known as Dragon Gate Inn. As opposed to the original version, in which the inn was run by a man, the owner of the inn is a beautiful woman named Xiangyu (Maggie Cheung, of The Barefooted Kid and Police Story). Xiangyu is a bit of a vixen, although part of it is an act to lure unsuspecting customers into her bedroom so that she can kill them and her cooks can use their bodies for the inn’s pork buns.

Qiu Mo-Yan and her entourage show up at the inn with the intention of staying the night, meeting up with Zhao Huai’an, and then making their way to the border the next day. Unfortunately, things do not go as planned. For starters, Xiangyu falls madly in love with Huai’an the moment he shows up at the inn. Second, this is the “rainy” season in Western China and inclement weather (of near-flash flood proportions) forces Qiu and the others to stay a few extra days. Finally, while waiting for the rain to stop, a bunch of Black Flag soldiers led by Eunuch Jia (Lau Shun, of Blade of Fury and A Chinese Ghost Story II) show up at the establishment. And thus begins the battle of wits between the good guys and bad guys, as Cao and his army make their way toward the inn.

Dragon Inn is an excellent film, with strong production values, wonderful cinematography and editing, great acting, and some solid action choreography courtesy of Ching Siu-Tung and Tsui Hark regular Yuen Bun. Martial arts purists will undoubtedly be put off by the excessive use of wires in the fights—even Maggie Cheung can move from point A to point B inside the inn without performing a wire-assisted jump—but that’s just how things were being done in 1992. The story itself is familiar, although it adds a love triangle element involving the three leads, plus a cannibalism subplot, which goes a long way to explain how somewhere out in the sticks could have a steady supply of meat for its guests.

All of the performances are good, but Maggie Cheung stands out as the vamp owner of the inn. Her loyalties are constantly shifting between the two parties taking up residence at the inn, especially when it becomes clear that for all of her schemes, Huai’an may simply not return her affections. When all of the tension finally gives way to violence, her Xiangyu character is forced to take a side and enter the fray. Cheung spent much of the 1980s in more comic roles, and while she does get to do some sarcasm and fast-talking here in order to cool down the atmosphere between the good guys and eunuchs, she also goes full seductress in some parts and sword-swinging badass at the end. She was nominated for Best Actress at the 1993 Hong Kong Film Awards, losing to…well…herself, for her dramatic powerhouse role in Center Stage.

From a technical standpoint, the film looks great. Arthur Wong’s cinematography should have won an award, but Center Stage got that instead. Nonetheless, Wong did get nominated for his work at both the Hong Kong and Taiwanese Golden Horse Awards. The running fight in the desert sands at the end is one of the most beautifully-filmed swordfights on film. Hung Poon also got nominated for Best Editing in both Hong Kong and Taiwan, and his style compliments Tony Ching’s choreography just fine.

The action here is also quite good, having garnered a nomination at the Hong Kong Film Awards, but actually winning it at the Taiwan Golden Horse Awards. Those looking for real martial arts will get a little bit at the beginning, as we see the Black Flag Army in training. There is also some at the end, when Donnie Yen finally throws down with our protagonists amidst a sandstorm. Apparently, Donnie Yen choreographed his own movements for the scene, creating a one-handed form for the shuang shou jian, or two-handed straight sword. According to Donnie Yen’s website, he also sustained a serious eye injury during this sequences, but kept filming nonetheless. In fact, the material on his site best describes the finale[1]:

"[This fight sequence], with twirling and twisting bodies flying through the air amid clouds of sand (courtesy of Ching Siu-tung’s signature wirework), are phenomenal. You’ll be guaranteed to gasp when Yen rises from the buried sands to take on the heroes. It’s a spectacular and surprising entrance, and Yen sustained a serious eye injury while executing the stunt. However, undeterred, he returned to continue filming the confrontation scene, taking on the stunt doubles for Brigitte Lin, Leung Ka-fai, and Maggie Cheung, and choreographing his own movements in this fight. It’s a whirling dervish of a scene. Furthermore, Yen exhibits masterful skill with two-handed straight sword forms, this weapon rarely being seen in films[2]. Yen earlier trained in this style while studying in China."

 

Thanks to its expert technical credits, strong soundtrack, a great performance from Maggie Cheung, and an unforgettable finale, Dragon Inn both honors its inspiration and stands on its own as one of the best wuxia pian of the 1990s New Wave revival. Producer Tsui Hark directed a sequel to this movie some 19 years later: Flying Swords of Dragon Gate, starring Jet Li as Zhao Huai’an and Zhou Xun as Xiangyu.

---

[1] - https://web.archive.org/web/20021204131956/http://www.donnieyen.com:80/filmdragongate.htm

[2] - Michelle Yeoh used this weapon in the final phase of her duel with Zhang Ziyi in Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon.

The Master (1989/1992)

The Master (1989/1992)
Aka: Wong Fei-Hung ‘92
Chinese Title: 黃飛鴻'92之龍行天下
Translation: Wong Fei-Hung ’92: Dragon Travels

 

Starring: Jet Li Lian-Jie, Yuen Wah, Crystal Kwok Gam-Yan, Jerry Trimble, Anne Ricketts, Ruben Gonzalez, Guy Fadallone, Derek Annunciation, To Wai-Wo, Mark Williams, Glen Chin Ying-Ming
Director: Tsui Hark
Action Director: Yuen Wah, Brandy Yuen

 

In my review of The Himalayan, I mentioned an aborted book project that I started back in 2006 to write a Portuguese-language book about the best fight scenes in Chinese—Hong Kong, Taiwan, and PRC—cinema. It would have been the first book published in Brazil about HK cinema. It did not go forward for certain reasons that probably wouldn’t be a problem today. One of the fights discussed was the finale to The Master. It was eventually removed from the final draft as the project progressed and other fights took its place. Here is a translated version of that chapter for your reading pleasure:

Synopsis: An “eeevil” martial arts school has kidnapped a young woman named Ana (Anne Ricketts, of Frank Stallone’s Lethal Games) and is using her as bait: the school’s master, Johnny (Jerry Trimble, of Live by the Fist), wants vengeance against a Chinese master (Yuen Wah, of Eastern Condors and The Iceman Cometh) for having rejected him as a student some time before. The master, Uncle Tak, is sent to a skyscraper to make a trade: his life for the girl’s. Accompanied by three Latino boys, Tak confronts the entire school. Although initially successful, the sheer number of opponents proves to be too much for Tak and he’s overpowered. Only through the intervention of Tak’s best student, Jet (Li), can Johnny and his school be defeated.

Comments: For a long time, The Master was considered the worst of all of Jet Li’s films—although these days, half-assed projects like Badges of Fury tend to take that distinction. In any case, people criticized everything about the movie: the plot (old school chopsockey tropes come across as silly in a modern setting), the dialog, the low production values, and even the fight scenes. To some extent the critics have a point, although we emphatically disagree with them when it comes to the action. To be perfectly honst, this has some of the best wushu demonstrations that Jet Li has even given, which is evident in the final fight.

The climax is divided into three parts: 1) Yuen Wah vs. Jerry Trimble’s students, 2) Jet Li vs. the students, and 3) Jet Li vs. Jerry Trimble. The first part of the fight establishes the tone of the fight choreography: simple movements and technique applications. Yuen Wah is attacked by individual fighters, followed by groups of four, and finally a group of ten. He responds with simple breaks, locks, knee-level kicks, and other simple moves. Once in a while he’ll do a more acrobatic kick—the man was Bruce Lee’s acrobatic double once—but most of his moves are the basics performed with confidence. Ultimately, he can’t deal with so many attackers and thus we move into part two.

Much like Yuen Wah, Jet Li starts off fighting with simpler moves: low kicks, dislocations, and simpler punches. After dispatching them, he has to face off with Trimble for the final one-on-one.

This third section is the longest part of the climax. Jet and Jerry start fighting atop the building. Jet uses his showier wushu—Northern Longfist—while Trimble puts his kickboxing skills (adapted from his tae kown do training) to good use. As the fight begins, it is clear that the men are evenly matched, with neither of them winning. Trimble gets in some good kicks, knocking Jet through a metal sheet and into a maintenance room inside the building. It’s here that the fighter, in the spirit of modern action movies of the time, start using the environment to their advantage. Valves, metal staircases, glass panes, metal bars and even gas pipes become obstacles to overcome for the combatants. By the time the fight is over, both men are hanging outside the building by electrical cords, trying to get in their final hits.

It would seem that all great Chinese martial arts actors have fought against at least one Caucasian—or at least American--martial arts champion. Bruce Lee had Chuck Norris. Jackie Chan took on Benny “the Jet” Urquidez (twice) and Bill “Superfoot” Wallace. Yuen Biao fought Peter “Sugarfoot” Cunningham. And Jet Li? It was 1986 World Kickboxing Champion Jerry Trimble. And the same way that Bruce’s and Jackie’s fights with Chuck and Benny (respectively) represented some of their best work, this fight represents some of Jet Li’s best fighting.

This set piece—including the Jet Li vs. many segment—is special for a few reasons. Firstly (and most importantly), Jet Li is simple amazing in it. His agility is at its peak. It is enchanting the way he contorts his body in numerous directions, even when his foot is caught in a valve. Later on, he would suffer accidents and injuries on set that would diminish this agility. Also, the choreography here is relatively “realistic” and gives us a good reason why he was named “Jet.” His attacks, blocks and kicks are incredibly fast. Watch him deliver multiple kicks with a single leg while his other foot is trapped. The flexibility on display is great.

The choreography is top drawer and seems to be based to some extent on Bruce Lee’s philosophy. The essency of Bruce’s choreography was to destroy the opponent with techniques that were fast, simple and strong. Along with Hitman (1998), War (2008), and Kiss of the Dragon (2001), this has the most realistic approach to fighting to be seen in a Jet Li film. For the most part, the philosophy of the fighting in the film is that if you get hit once, it’s probably over for you. You only need to take a few blows to be lying helpless on the ground. To this end, both Jet Li and Yuen Wah use a lot of chin na, or locks and breaks. In other words, you’ll get as much joint manipulation in this finale as you’d get in your average Steven Seagal film.

We shouldn’t forget Jerry Trimble. He’ll probably never become as well known as other Western fighters that showed up in Chinese movies, which is sad, as he is a good screenfighter. He parlayed his tae kwon do training into kickboxing and won both the  PKA and PKC world titles in 1986. After retiring from the ring in 1989, he started making action movies. He had a memorable fight with fellow tae kown do stylist Loren Avedon in King of the Kickboxers (1990), one of the best martial arts films made for American audiences. He also worked as a stuntman in bigger Hollywood films, like Charlie’s Angels (2000)—he fights Drew Barrymore while she’s tied to a chair; War of the Worlds (2005); and Mission Impossible 3 (2006). Unlike many other tae kwon do fighters, his onscreen style de-emphasizes flashy aerial kicks and focuses more on the basics, performed with speed and power.

After this movie, Jet Li would go to make his landmark hit, Once Upon a Time in China. That film’s success would put him on the road to becoming an international action star. It would also help usher in the “Wire-fu” Era of fight choreography. Jet Li, as the result of different injuries sustained during his movies, would show up in a lot of movies in which his own natural talent was obscured by the use of wires. The fact that his sequence—and the film as a whole—is largely free of wire enhancements makes it all the more special within the context of Jet Li’s career. There is one jump kick early on in the climax where it looks like Jet is able to hit four people in the air before his feet touch the ground.

As much as many hate this film, this fight sequence stands out as much in the film as it does in Jet Li’s career on the whole. With few exceptions, this fight would be one of the last true demonstrations of Jet Li’s wushu abilities, unhindered by special effects of any stype. And I’ll be honest: Jet Li with wires is already impressive. Jet Li without them is truly a wonder to behold.

Once Upon a Time in China 2 (1992)

Once Upon a Time in China 2 (1992)
Chinese Title: 黃飛鴻之二男兒當自強
Translation: Wong Fei Hung 2: Man Should Depend on Himself

 

Starring: Jet Li, Rosamund Kwan, Max Mok Siu-Chung, Donnie Yen, David Chiang, Xiong Xin-Xin, Zhang Tie-Lin, Yen Shi-Kwan, Leung Yat-Ho, William Ho Ka-Kui, Paul Fonoroff, Mike Miller
Director: Tsui Hark
Action Director: Yuen Woo-Ping

Following the success of the first Once Upon a Time in China, Jet Li’s first order of business was to headline sequels to both that and another important period piece. The year 1992 saw Jet starring in both Once Upon a Time in China 2 and The Swordsman 2. The first Swordsman had come out two years before and would set the rules for wuxia pian for the rest of the decade. Complex wire-stunts, FX-oriented “qi” attacks, all-star casts, and convoluted storytelling defined this new brand of wuxia movie. Moreover, movies had to be based on a Jin Yong novel, previously adapted by the Shaw Brothers, or both. In the case of Swordsman II, both criteria applied—the material had been filmed as The Proud Youth in 1978. Casting Jet was a no-brainer, considering his newly acquired bankability and the fact that singer Sam Hui was not a martial artist.

Similarly, OUATIC had brought the kung fu period piece back to the spotlight after lying dormant for almost a decade (at least in Hong Kong[1]). OUATIC also set the rules for the genre for the next several years, which dictated that every kung fu movie be about a Chinese folk hero, star a wushu­-trained martial artist (or someone who could pass himself off for one), and would feature a significant amount of wires to “enhance” the fight scenes. As one might imagine, said parameters are a little limiting and this “New Wave” of kung fu films ran out of steam rather quickly.

Once Upon a Time in China 2 is fascinating in that it establishes that chronological time with regards to its main character is really the least of director Tsui Hark’s concerns. Indeed, these movies are very much “floating time” films, in which Jet Li’s Wong Fei-Hung is involved in various important moments of Chinese history without actually aging himself. Wong Fei-Hung feels more like a vessel through which Tsui and his writers, Hanson Chan (Swordsman II) and Charcoal Tan (The Blade of Fury and The Dragon Chronicles), could explore Chinese history and some of Tsui’s own pet themes. It’s not specifically stated when that film was set, although there mention of Chinese laborers working on the railroad. The Transcontinental Railroad was finished in 1869, at which time the real Wong Fei-Hung was 22 years old. A second railroad, the Canadian-Pacific Railway, was finished in 1885. Chinese laborers worked on both railroads, so for our purposes, we’ll assume the first movie took place in the early 1880s.

Once Upon a Time in China 2 takes place in 1895, which is established both in the opening credits and a brief scene in which we see student protestors decrying the cession of Taiwan to Japan via the Treaty of Shimonoseki. That actually doesn’t factor into the plot, although it does establish once again that China was in turmoil in the late 19^th century, which gave credence to the whole White Lotus Movement/Boxer movement, which our film does concern itself with. It also reminds us that for better or worse, the local populace tends to be indifferent to foreign policy when their own personal needs are not being met.

Wong Fei-Hung and his entourage—Aunt Yee and Leung Foon (now played by Max Mok)—have traveled from Foshan to Canton to attend a medical conference. Canton has become embroiled in a running conflict between the government and an anti-foreigner organization known as the White Lotus Cult. That the subtitles in my version frequently refer to them as “fighters,” or “Boxers,” suggests that the cult is a branch (or precursor) to the actual Boxer Movement, which rose up in open rebellion in 1899. Aunt Yee is immediately targeted by them because of her Western clothing and camera. In cases like this, having a kung fu folk hero by your side really helps.

At the conference, Wong meets the infamous Dr. Sun Yat-Sen (The Magic Crane’s Zhang Tie-Lin), the same man credited with overthrowing the Qing Dynasty and leading China into its Republic Era. The two hit if off, as the young folks say, despite their cultural differences—Dr. Sun specializes in Western medicine while Wong is openly derided by those damn gwailo doctors for using acupuncture and talking about meridians and sh*t. The conference is broken up by the arrival of a violent band of White Lotus cultists, who fill the place up with arrows. The situation worsens considerably when those same cultists commandeer a massacre at the local English school. Aunt Yee and Ah Foon take the surviving children to the English Consulate while Wong Fei-Hung asks the leader of the local garrison, Comander Lan (Donnie Yen), for help.

Unfortunately, Commander Lan’s limited resources have been stretched to their limit by the White Lotus Cult, especially now that they are targeting the local telegraph office. The Empress has enough problems in other parts of the country that she’s unwilling to send extra men to Canton. On top of things, Lan has discovered that a rebel movement is in the works and that Sun Yat-Sen is not only at the head of it, but is currently in Canton. More refugees pour into the British Consulate as the White Lotus attacks grow more brazen, but the tipping point will be when Commander Lan discovers that Sun Yat-Sen’s confidant, Luk (David Chiang), is hiding at the consulate…

Less-patient viewers may find themselves squirming in their seats for the first hour, as there are only two short fight scenes during that portion of the film. Tsui Hark and his writers focus instead on setting up the conflict and the characters, establishing the ruthlessness of the racist White Lotus Clan and the chain of events that transform the initially sympathetic Commander Lan into the film’s main villain. Once more, a late 19^th century Chinese city finds itself under siege from within, with the locals too worried about their own personal safety to get involved. This is personified by the character of the innkeeper (character actor William Ho, of Crystal Hunt and Lethal Panther). Following the opening kerfuffle with the White Lotus clan, the innkeeper asks Aunt Yee to wear Chinese clothes to avoid further conflict. He practically shoos Wong Fei-Hung out of the hotel after the conference, and then completely ignores the child survivors of the English school massacre.

In contrast to the first Once Upon a Time in China, the Caucasian characters are a lot more sympathetic this time around. Although initially xenophobic in their attitudes toward Chinese medicine, they ultimately give Wong Fei-Hung (and, by extension, Eastern methods) a chance to prove himself. There are no villainous characters like Mr. Jackson from the first OUATIC. On the same token, you get the feeling that the exploitive practices of people like Mr. Jackson paved the way for the White Lotus Cult in the first place. In that case, this movie is an appropriate sequel to the first movie. “You want come to our country to swindle us out of our life savings so we can perform slave labor for you? F*** you! We’ll kick your baak gwai asses out of here!”

Much like Legendary Weapons of China, the White Lotus Cult (and by extension, the Boxer Movement in general) is portrayed as being led by a bunch of charlatans, specically the High Priest Kung (Xiong Xin Xin). For all their kung fu knowledge, the cult leaders are unable to deliver on their promise to use folk magic to protect their members from foreign firearms. The first OUATIC brought this up at the climax when Iron Robe Yim[2] exclaims, “No matter how good our kung fu is, it will never defeat guns.” Just as the crooked Westerners in the first film gave rise to the White Lotus Cult in the second one, the defeat of straight kung fu by guns in OUATIC would logically be followed by the kung fu community trying to find a way around that. Unfortunately for many involved (and many more who weren’t involved), they settled on lies and phony magic rituals. Ultimately, what helps make Once Upon a Time in China 2 work so well is the organic flow of themes from the first film to this one.

What also makes the movie work is its expert fight choreography, supplied by the legendary Yuen Woo-Ping. Yuen’s brothers, Cheung-Yan and Shun-Yee, had served as action directors in the previous film, but this is Yuen Woo-Ping’s time to shine. His work deservedly earned him a Best Action Choreography win at the Hong Kong Film Awards, his first of six wins in that category at that particular awards show. Commenting on the action as a whole, Jonathan L. Bowen of Orbital Reviews observed:

 

"The fight scenes are absolutely amazing and rank among the all-time top fights ever filmed. In many good Hong Kong action movies, there are a few good fight scenes and one great final showdown. Once Upon A Time in China II has no less than five great fight scenes spread throughout the movie, meaning there is never a dull moment. Even a smaller wooden lance duel is awesome."

 

As expected for 1990s kung fu movie, there is a lot of wirework present, especially in the elaborate showdown with the White Lotus cult and Priest Kung himself. For these 1990s films, the imagination of the fights was often more important than the complexity of the fisticuff exchanges themselves, and so we get this crazy fight with Jet Li and Xiong Xin-Xin trying to knock each other off an altar made of stacked tables without following off themselves. It is treated like an actual plot point, with the infallibility of the religious official being challenged by an outsider, so the former has to do everything possible to keep up the ruse and not lose face before his followers. Hint: It doesn’t work. In his review of this film, Mark Pollard of the now-defunct Kung Fu Cinema website said, “Jet Li's table-stacked bout with [Xiong Xin Xin] is Wo Ping at his irreverently creative best.”

Those looking for more grounded kung fu will enjoy Jet Li’s staff duels with Donnie Yen a lot more. When the two first meet, Yen throws a staff at an unsuspecting Jet Li and the two just unleash their skills on each other for two whole minutes, with minimum wires or B.S. The Ultimate Jet Li Website, which was active in the early 2000s, posited:

 

"Jet and Donnie have two truely breathtaking battles during the movie. The first is a brief, but fast and furious engagement where the two use their skill and prowess with the shaolin lance to devastating effect. Believe me, this fight alone will have you touching back your VCR / DVD / VCD so many times, that short extracts will be permanently burnned into your long-term memory."

 

The finale is especially complex, broken up into three sections. Set in a market storehouse filled with bamboo scaffolding, Wong Fei-Hung keeps Commander Lan at bay as Leung Foon and Luk retrieve a rebel name list. Taking the high ground, Wong suspends himself on the scaffolding and attacks Lan with a long bamboo pole while Lan defends himself with a smaller staff. The claustrophobic setting of the fight brings to mind classic duels from films like The Martial Club and Return to the 36^th Chamber. The two then go at with two-fisted staves in a marvelous display of dexterity and accuracy. This brief part of the fight is one of my all-time favorite pole fights. Finally, we Wong Fei-Hung and Ah Foon trapped in a dead-end alleyway, Commander Lan switches to his signature weapon, a wet cloth that he uses as a deadly lash. Yuen Woo-Ping had already done something like this is Shaolin Drunkard, but he takes it to the nth level here.

Some reviewers have pointed this out as one of the greatest fight sequences of all time. When John Richards of the now-defunct Wasted Life did his Top 100 Fight Scenes in 2006, he placed this one at #31. Wrote he, “The close confines and multi-levels of a store room provide for some ingenious prop-use in this fantastic pole fight; a cornerstone for Jet's career and a firm fan favourite that influenced the decision to have a 'Jet vs Donnie' fight in Hero.” Similar opinions include:

Mark Pollard (Kung Fu Cinema) – “While all of the other films had great choreographers and memorable scenes, OUATIC II gels better than the rest and the impressive skills of Jet Li and Donnie Yen clashing is magnificent to behold. Yen's towel tossing scene is one of the greatest fights in film history…”

Kozo (LoveHKFilm) – "Yuen Woo-Ping's excellent choreography won a Hong Kong Film award, and the knock-down battle between Jet Li and Donnie Yen ranks as one of Hong Kong Cinema's absolute best."

Stanley (The Jet Lee [Li] Homepage) – “The final battle between two of the best martial arts actors in Hong Kong was one of the most spectacular action scenes ever made.”

In the end, when you combine these moments of action brilliance with a strong story, a logical development of the previous film’s themes, a solid musical score[3], expert cinematography, great costume design, and some good art direction and you have one of the classic martial arts movies of the 1990s: one of the best that the wire-fu boom had to offer.

---

[1] - The Shaw Brothers kept on producing kung fu movies until 1985, but few (if any) of them were actually successful. Taiwan and South Korea also kept making them, possibly with more success in non-HK markets. The People’s Republic of China kept making wushu movies in the vein of Shaolin Temple until the end of the 1980s.

[2] - Yen Shi-Kwan, who played Iron Robe Yim, also shows up briefly in OUATIC 2 as Donnie Yen’s superior.

[3] - The film’s soundtrack had an alternate version of the opening credits song “Naam Yi Dong Ji Keung” with a rock-inspired orchestration, sung by none other than Jackie Chan.