The Universe Is Endless, The Brave Are Always Searching: Once A Thief (1991)

Though he has rarely received mention here on my blog, I adore John Woo.  I should be clear though, I adore the John Woo that existed prior to Broken Arrow, which has proven to be the demise of his career.  In terms of Hong Kong Action Cinema, nay all of action cinema, Woo is the premier player in what it means to make an exceptional film.  Having been fortunate to encounter Woo's Hardboiled rather early on in my endeavor to be a cinephile, his style and cinematic structure has always been an ideal point and though it is clearly not one loved universally, like de Palma or Pasollini it is almost immediately recognizable, for its washed out and soft lit nature.  It is tough to differentiate some of the works from his most productive years, say 1986-1991, because they almost all deal with a disillusioned cop coming to rediscover their passion and identity by way of challenges from an equally positioned criminal.  The process as scholars have noted is not the simple homosocial bond at work when the cop and criminal confront, but one more deeply invested in fraternal confrontation.  As such family and other factors are always at the forefront of Woo's work, either directly evoked or ever so subtly implied.  In something like Once A Thief it manages to do both magnificently, looking both at the relations of a trio of street orphans turned art thieves, while also suggesting that their relationships, though unique, can be switched, manipulated and extended outward when necessary.  Furthermore, because it is an action film, Woo always seems to evoke a certain degree of celebration in the perfected male body, one that clearly borrows from kung fu films of decades earlier, yet in a knowing way the narrative subverts even these ideals and shows that degrees of ability and perfection are not quite as intertwined as imagined.  I would never leap to the suggestion that Once A Thief is a masterwork of John Woo's career highpoint, but considering how exceptional his output was during this era, to call this lesser is to still place it miles above its contemporaries and certainly shades and entire colors different from his post United States work.  Also, though he is always keen on the use of music in his films, the particular soundtrack for the film by Violet Lam is incredibly fitting, flittering between shades of Hong Kong bar jazz and synthesizers giving the whole film the feel of something form the world of Michael Mann.  As I am sure I have made abundantly clear, I could ramble about Woo for days, but frankly he deserves that kind of devotion.

Once A Thief, as noted, focuses not on a singular thief, but a set of thieves who make their living stealing art.  The group consists of the rambunctious and flippant Joe (Chow Yun-Fat), the stoic, but definitively opinionated James (Leslie Chung) and Cherie (Cherie Chung) the romantic interest of both men, as well as the cohesion to the groups somewhat wild methodologies.  Finding themselves fresh off of a major heist in Paris, Joe and James agree to settle down and remove themselves from the heist business, much to the pleading of Cherie.  However, when the group is offered two million dollars and a considerable amount of bragging rights to steal a painting from a well-guarded castle they prolong their retirement and are successful in their theft.  Yet, the aftermath leads to a car chase and in the process Joe is injured in a kamikaze-like wreckage, leading to his being paralyzed from the waist down.  Initially, James and Cherie believe Joe to be dead and continue on their life together, entering into a relationship and stepping out of world of heist considerably.  However, when it is revealed that Joe is indeed still alive the group dynamic change, as Joe tempts James back into the business, while also causing Cherie to reconsider her marriage.  Yet, Joe's immobility means that initially he must use wit as a method to gain information, passing his disability off as something that gains him access to bidding parlors, where he can confront his wrongdoers as well as elicit information to aid in their theft.  Cherie even partakes in the process using her female traits to seduce a higher ranking museum owner into dancing, quickly stealing a key to have James make a print.  This all occurs with a backstory that acknowledges the double upbringing of the trio, one that is headed by the violent and negative figure of Chow (Kenneth Tsang) who used their youth to exploit his own gains and the far friendlier cop Chu (Kong Chu) who teaches them to be productive citizens, although they still stray the way of thievery.  However, what ultimately commences is a confrontation between the trio and their respective paternal figures, one that is heavy in shootouts, fighting and aggression.  In the process Joe reveals just how non-limiting his disability is and helps to ward off their challengers, retaining a safe space and seeming intent to return to a life of normalcy, one that is might still involve an occasional art heist.

So if Woo's action cinema is about spectacle, what does one take as the point of most spectacular engagement.  The obvious answer here might be the feats of heroics and athleticism that are generously inserted throughout the film, whether it be Joe dancing in a wheelchair, or the taut and frankly quite thrilling retrieval of the painting perched above the electrical floor.  These moments are great and from a filmmaking standpoint evoke all the necessary points to be deem thrilling, but I would argue that the real spectacle at play in Woo's film comes by way of performing and engaging in symbolic roles which take with them various social stigmas and presumptions.  From the earliest point, the problematic relationship with authority that the trio possess seems almost entirely rooted in their troubling relationship with the aggressive Chow, whose father status is never questioned in the minds of the group, yet his awfulness is wholly acknowledged.  Indeed, it makes the emergence of Chu all the more curious, because despite their dismal living state, they are initially hesitant to leave Chow, because they associate him with provisions such as food and shelter (even if minimal).  It is not until Chu buys them food that their understanding of his role alters.  Indeed, this occurs to further extent when Cherie is navigating the relationships between Joe and James seeing the former as a point of desire that acts like a brother, where as she sees James as a brother who is acting like he is worthy of romantic affection.  It is not until Joe is deemed non-existent that Cherie change her frame of reference, although the narrative makes its situational elements clear and certainly affirms this when Cherie leaves James to be with Joe in the end of the film, at least in an emotional sense, because Cherie is pregnant with James's child.  The result is some bizarre triple space of paternal and maternal and a maternally acting paternal figure that is more joke than reality, although such a presence undoubtedly occurred in Hong Kong at the time.  These are but a few of the layers of how things are performed and another layer could be added to how the idea of disability is performed in the film, but considering its integral nature of the narrative, spoilers will be avoided.

Key Scene:  The castle art heist is really gripping, more so than I am use to from Woo, particularly as is the case for hims moments that he plays up for humor.

This is a delightful addition to my Woo viewing cannon, but I will admit that it might be decidedly hard to come by so renting it or tracking it down alternatively might be ideal.

You Know It On Touch, Not On Sight: The Eye (2002)

I had originally slated another Pang Brothers film in the slot for this day in the marathon, but when doing some last minute perusing on my "to be watched" shelf which is in a constant state of caving in upon itself, I realized I already had one of their films waiting, one that was far more inclined to be read as a horror film than the one I had planned on viewing.  The film, The Eye, is perhaps most associated with its Jessica Alba remake some six years later, for which I have not seen, nor do I really care to.  However, my deep adoration for the last decade and some change of Asian horror films drew me to this without a moments hesitation, more so considering that this one navigates between a few different spaces of Asia, never making a clear distinction between the changes aside from dialects that most Western audiences, myself included, would be hard pressed to distinguish.  As such, there is a certain degree of privilege to the national viewer in a film like The Eye, which is not to say that it is distancing or alienating in its output.  The Eye is about as well made a thriller as one can ask for without completely detaching itself from the horror elements with which it borrows from liberally.  The Pang Brothers understand that what they have created is first and foremost a focus on one woman and her struggle to find meaning and purpose when her worldview is literally expanded in previously inconceivable ways, however, that does mean that there are not some genuinely creepy moments sprinkled throughout the film.  In fact, I would posit that this, a rather overlooked Chinese/Singapore horror thriller contains what may well be the scariest ghost appearance in any film I have ever encountered.  It is not a particularly ghoulish apparition, nor is it grotesque in any sort of body horror way.  It is unsettling because the directors make it non-apparent, indeed existing in the corner of the screen, as though it is almost scary to discover it than to not be aware at all.  In a world of post-modern horror genre films embracing the excess, The Eye in all its cinematic intensity and moments of truly spine chilling horror, manages to remind viewers that the scariest things are those only a few are privilege, nay, cursed to encounter.

The Eye focuses on Wong Kar Mun (Angelica Lee) a woman who has spent nearly all of her life blind after an accident in her youth left her so.  Yet, upon the information that a donor matching her type has recently been made available, her family, particularly her grandmother, rushes to get her an operation.  Although the other people in the space of her hospital room seem to fair far less in their sickness or troubles, Mun's operation is successful and with some basic rehabilitation and a pair of sunglasses she is capable of moving into the world with newly rediscovered sight.  However, her new vision-abled site is not quite as welcoming as she suspected, because where people were previously willing to help her navigate the spaces of her town, she now finds that people assume her completely capable of perfect vision, despite still struggling to completely see objects at time.  More so, her one passion as a violinist is trampled when she is kicked out of her former all blind orchestra, precisely because she is no longer blind.  If these issues were not enough, Mun begins to pick up floating entities and bodies emerging in her peripheral vision that simply should not exist, whether it be a man standing stoically in the middle of free way or a ghoulish mother and child floating into the space of a restaurant.  When her physical therapist and new found romantic interest becomes aware that perhaps her claims to be seeing entities beyond the dimensional space of normal perception, might be valid, he helps her to undertake a quest to find the donor.  This task of course proves quite troublesome since donor information is made decidedly confidential, however, the drive of both Mun and her doctor, lead them to Bangkok where it is discovered that the woman who previously held Mun's eyes was a social pariah because of her fatally accurate visions of death.  These uncontrollable visions led to the woman's suicide, thus affording Mun the eyes.  Helping to end the cycle of the unfortunate loss through a near perfect recreation of the suicide, Mun helps to put the woman's soul at ease.  Unfortunately, this does not necessarily end the visions for Mun who is confronted with one last series of death encounters, before she comes to lose the second sight, in a return to her original state of vision and, subsequently, her happiness.

Considering that I am currently working on a paper (which appears to be close to publication!) on the nature of disability in a certain big-budget super hero franchise, I am particularly keen as to when films productively deal with, or more so fail to deal with issues of confronting disability.  In a rare moment, The Eye manages to do the former and show a rather earnest look into what it means to be blind and, more importantly, how even when altered or corrected that previous blindness can still prove detrimental to one's world view, almost as if it were a very personalized consideration of the affect theory.  Mun finds considerable challenge in the act of expressing herself because how she sees the world is so distinctly different from the vision abled people she interacts with, whether it be her frustrated grandmother who no longer wants her child to be a burden, or her doctor who seems so attached to the medical elements of her blindness as to assume her every feeling and frustration without asking her opinion or interpersonal struggles.  Similarly, the film also considers what happens to a disabled person should they find themselves fortunate enough to become able bodied.  Indeed, Mun is removed from her friendship with blind persons through her new found privilege, but it is a reminder that even when she is afforded sight she still has the memory of a time when darkness was all she could sense.  Indeed, the film takes on yet another layer of disability narrative in how "one sees the world," particularly once Mun can see and even when she is capable of seeing, it is through her other senses as the doctor notes.  Finally, what makes the film an absolutely intriguing study of disability is in how the work navigates the post-operation sight of Mun, who invariably pulls from her former blind self in her description of the world and even her instantly matured sight is seen as something that is still burgeoning.  As such, her extrasensory vision, is deemed the exact opposite at first, precisely because she is still othered as a result of a now extinct disability.  The cinematic conventions of this film provide the final element of pro-disability narrative by reaffirming the possible visions a person learning to see might encounter, whether it be flickering lights, or blurry background imagery.

Key Scene:  Subway train ride.  If you watch this keep your eyes peeled (I realize the brilliance in this moment of the film now as I write this).  If you do, prepared to be scared beyond belief.

This DVD is super cheap on Amazon.  Buy a copy, it is well worth the cost.

Don't Ruin Your Reputation For Petty Gains: The Five Venoms (1978)

I decided to jam one last Shaw Brothers film onto my month of kung fu films, because, after all, they are the premier names in the realm of the martial arts work, indeed carrying the same weight Sirk does with the melodrama, Powell and Pressburger do with Technicolor and Ford does with the Western.  All of the aforementioned directors had moments in their career where they took considerable risks cinematically, choices that existed within their genre/style associations, while also twisting them in new and unique ways.  While they were often met with hesitation they also produced captivating and new ways in which to understand a previously cemented gorup of works.  I would argue that in The Five Venoms the Shaw Brothers approach the genre, for which they well established in at this point and decided to push it to grand proportions.  The Five Venoms is not a simple film, indeed the plot is considerably intricate despite its rather straightforward title, so much so that I will admit much of my recollection of the details of this film are heavily a result of scouring plot synopsis online prior to writing this blog post.  This audacious approach does pay off, considering that it is still incredibly watchable even if I found some, if not entire portions, narratively confusing and linearly uncertain.  I wholly embrace the work, because the Shaw Brothers dare to take a genre film and extend it to the grandest of proportions, indeed I would argue that The Five Venoms is the martial arts equivalent of something like Seven Samurai, where a work that had previously existed only in the realm of genre, moves into being grand, almost art house cinema.  Each moment of the winding and heavy plot of The Five Venoms plays into a larger consideration of loyalty, collective identity and deception that could make the most glorious of shogun samurai period pieces seem minor in breadth.  While I would be hard-pressed to consider this one of my favorite works of the marathon, I will concede to it being one of the more historically important.  It blows viewers over with information and narrative that extends through an undeclared amount of temporal space, never once back tracking (aside from affirming match cuts) to drive a message home.  The Five Venoms demands to be viewed with full attention and to be revisited many times.

The Five Venoms begins with the dying master of the infamous Poison clan explaining to its remaining student Yan Tieh (Chiang Sheng) that the previous five seniors of the dojo have come to make a less than positive name amongst themselves, although the master is rather certain that the infamy is resting on the actions of one or two of the former members.  Explaining to Yan that the five seniors have no identifiable names or traits, given their donning of masks, he goes about explaining the various techniques of the seniors in a hope that Yan will be able to incite them into betraying their secret identities through exposing their styles.  The five venoms of the title represent the animals with which each senior appropriates their style, which are the following: Centipede, Snake, Scorpion, Gecko and Toad.  The last one the Toad proving particularly interesting since nearly all of his skill is predicated upon his being seemingly invincible.  Yan Tieh, however, is not skilled enough in any of the styles to take on the members of the respective dojo, thus leading the master to suggest that he befriend one of the members that is not tied to the exploitation and use their skills to overcome their opponent. The remainder of the movie involves Yan Tieh moving through the city outside of the dojo and uncovering the layers of deception that involve the members of the former Poison clan discover in the process that it is specifically Snake and Scorpion who are of the highest point of trouble making in terms of ruthlessness.  As such, Yan Tieh moves to befriend both Gecko and Toad, realizing that Centipede is also tied to the criminal activity.  Yet, given the layers of communication occurring and the various skills and extensions of power possessed by the members, both good and bad, Toad is eventually killed through the brutal use of The Coat of a Thousand Needles.  After affirming Gecko's identity, Yan Tieh proceeds to create a plan of attack for the taking on of Snake and Scorpion, one that requires training and eventually flawless execution, but just as the Poison clan master predicted, Yan Tieh is able to fell the villainous members and end any further extension of a negative name upon the Poison clan.

I have mentioned in degrees of passing through the previous posts, particularly when discussing Riki-Oh: The Story of Ricky, the idea that one of the tropes within kung fu cinema appears to be the idea of body on display to be performed and performed upon.  I know this is what I just discussed concerning Mirageman, but here one can see it evolving in relation to the classical work of Shaw Brothers, relatively speaking of course.  I mean to say that there are multiple ways in which the body is put on display as well as theoretically considered.  Take for example Toad, he is the point of such masculine perfection as to be a battering ram that is incapable of overcoming, unless one is to be aware of his single weakness, which is place, not unintentionally in his eyes.  As an insurmountable force, he is apt not to listen to reason or budge, therefore the body and mind are distinctly separated in this context.  Similarly  this body on spectacle as a direct contradiction to the power of the mind, occurs with both Snake and Scorpion who are inclined to betray their identities, because both styles of martial arts require them to project their bodies in significant and highly personalized ways, therefore their body as power, requires them to reject the mental strains of stealth and secrecy.  It is indeed no small directorial choice to make Gecko a fighting style that predicates itself upon patience before striking, whereas Centipede and his intense "one thousand hands" attack is both sporadic and a barrage, but also so flailing and wild as to leave his mind exposed to the strikes of Gecko and Yan Tieh.  Indeed, it seems as though the film draws a clear line between issues of the over performed body, specifically that of the masculine and its ties to corruption and a willingness to do illegal, if not outright evil acts.  The narrative thus becomes a commentary on the importance of a well-rounded mind to match a physical prowess, because not only does it allow one to make consciously sound decisions, it also affords one the means to overpower those who might otherwise win off of brutish means alone.

Key Scene:  Opening montage is great, indeed, it might be its excellence that made getting into the slower pacing of the remainder of the film a tad more difficult.

This is worth renting before buy, not that it is outright bad, indeed it is quite good.  It might, however, prove a bit confusing upon a first viewing.

I Feel Like James Bond, But Minus The Girls: Jackie Chan's First Strike (1996)

It is rather clear that there will be a considerable battle between Jet Li and Jackie Chan for who will make the most appearances during this kung fu marathon and as it stands I believe they are both tied at a respectable three, with Jet Li's films taking a decidedly serious and historical turn, whereas, with the exception of Drunken Master, Chan's films are clearly intended to exist within the realm of the action/cop thriller comedy genre, making a considerable amount of sense, since his adoration of Harold Lloyd and the other silent comedy masters has previously received acknowledgement.  First Strike, is, technically part of the Police Story films, but considering that it is rather obvious that the version I obtained was reworked to make it entirely in English and more palatable to western audiences, I will consider it as such.  First Strike is incredibly clear in its being an homage to the James Bond films, although in decided Jackie Chan fashion, his character has to be a lovable loser, favoring his self-respect to those he encounters over demanding any sort of objectification of the women and others around him, aside of course from the villains who are already attacking him.  I would, in fact, argue that First Strike, while far from a perfect or even good movie, does manage to have some moments where Chan's love for the silent film slapstick over-the-top routine comes crashing together beautifully with some of the most iconic moments of the Bond filmic franchise.  Despite everything and everyone in the film being dubbed, First Strike also manages to be a considerably enjoyable study in the nature of international crime, moving between spaces that often do not receive heavy mention in the cinematic action language, specifically Ukraine and Australia.  I am assuming that First Strike is considered minor Chan, excluding that string of American films he made later in his career (The Tuxedo and The Medallion), it makes me interested to catch up with more of his work, because even in the films that are not exactly narratively engaging, I was surprised to find myself laughing at the excellent comedic execution of Chan even with as simple of a joke as screaming underwater.  I noted in a previous post about reconsidering Li as one of the great actors working today, I am thinking I might make the same extension towards Chan as a comedic actor.

First Strike begins with Jackie (Jackie Chan) finishing a job for the CIA that involves him tracking down a woman who is believed to be tied to a nuclear arms smuggling case.  The woman Natasha (Nonna Grishaeva), it is discovered, is heading to Ukraine, where Jackie is sent undercover to learn more about the issues of the trade.  Along with Natasha is a Chinese nuclear scientist named Tsui (Jackson Liu) who it is revealed has been working to obtain the secrets of the trade for the CIA, which are contained in a briefcase that is lost in a wild snowboard and snowmobile chase.  After a recovery in Russia, Jackie learns that the arms are being shipped to Australia via a Russian submarine, leading to his traveling to Brisbane, much to the disbelief of his superiors in China.  While in Brisbane, Jackie discovers that the nuclear smuggling extends to include a group of Chinese Triad bosses that have centered themselves in Australia, one whose son just happens to be the late Tsui.  During a meeting with Tsui's father, Jackie meets his sister Annie (Annie Wu) who is initially dismissive of Jackie, believing him to be her brothers killer, a disdain that grows when she discovers that Jackie has lied to her about his identity on multiple levels.  However, after more investigation on the part of Jackie, it is discovered that Tsui had tenuous ties to the KGB and was being forced to engage in illicit activities at their discretion, a fact, that once revealed to Jackie and others allows for Annie to break down her hesitations and help Jackie.  During the later father Tsui's death, an elaborate funeral is staged, which becomes the point of a wild brawl with guns and martial arts abound, eventually leading to a local aquarium where the fight takes an underwater turn, made expressly dangerous by the introduction of a maniacal shark that moves about the water and, at times, above it surface to attack people.  Fighting off lackeys and saving unsuspecting tourists, Jackie eventually tracks down the KGB official who possesses the warhead and has kidnapped Annie, stopping his endeavor and escaping with Annie in tow.  After the criminals have been apprehended, Jackie accepts warm thanks and returns to his job with a new degree of earned respect.

The movie really does have an international flare that I cannot help but embrace, particularly considering its nuclear warfare narrative.  The involvement of both Chinese and Russian forces in such a plot could be deemed the worst of Western nightmares coming to the full front, but considering that the China in this film is dedicated to a degree of disarmament it is far from problematic, indeed, almost ideal when discussing a world that still sees threats of nuclear warfare both on a large global scale, as well as at the hands of terrorist subsets who are bent on knocking down global powers with a singular crippling blow.  Of course, to set the film solely in China or Russia would be a bit overzealous not to mention a bit too obvious, particularly, since it is not in these countries that much of the heavy trafficking tends to occur.  The choice to pull the often overlooked Ukraine into the narrative was a brilliant writing decision, because this space, much like other Eastern European countries is a space of illegal trafficking of everything from drugs and nuclear weapons to human bodies.  Furthermore, since it is a film that deals with the western and eastern fears of nuclear warfare and a subsequent fallout staging, it is a space like Eastern Europe proves genius, because in its regional name alone it exists an oxymoronic divide between the two sides of the world.  Indeed, when the narrative then moves to the often overlooked Australia things take a decidedly wild turn, suggesting that Brisbane is a place where the Chinese triad has extended its global power.  I am not a person familiar with the demographics or even basic political world of Australia, but considering that it is the "land down under" and is often notably othered as a space in the world, it would seem like the idea location to plan and traffic nuclear weapons, because in a non-theoretical or critically grounded frame of reference, I would admit to saying that Australia would be the last place on Earth I would assume heavy trafficking in anything to occur.  However, writing that very statement would make me inclined to reconsider it as a space that is equal to, if not greater, in trafficking to Eastern Europe.

Key Scene:  The underwater fighting scene is really one of the greatest action sequences I have ever seen in cinema.  While it was made famous by Thunderball, it is perfected here in this film.

First Strike is not a great movie, but it is not unwatchable by any means.  A more "rentable" movie might not exist.

Virtue Is Often Found Among The Lowly: Once Upon A Time In China (1991)

It seems that at this point in the cinematic narrative there is a Once Upon A Time film for pretty much every important country in the world, as well as a handful of less well established global spaces.  However, even considering this I have managed to not catch up with some of the icons of this particularly titled choice.  Indeed, prior to viewing Once Upon A Time in China, I had only seen the smooze-fest that was Once Upon a Time in Tibet and the pensive, yet haunting film from later year, Once Upon a Time in Anatolia.  The West, America and, until last night, China had failed to make the cut.  Considering that the film situates itself in the years of the Qing dynasty and stars Jet Li, who continues to amaze me as a performer, it seemed like a more than appropriate film to include in my month of martial arts films.  Indeed, there are few films with more of a sense of grandeur and depth than the Chinese period piece, particularly in an age of digital and CGI cinema, which affords a film an ability to take on an ethereal and otherworldly quality.  What is amazing when considering Once Upon A Time in China is that there are moments in this film that are just as thrilling and captivating as the best moments of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.  Hell, the opening dragon dance sequence and the thirty or so odd minute fight sequence that bookend this film are some of the best of the marathon thus far.  These are all wonderful things about the film and would be more than enough to carry them along as a fun historical film that borrows from the genre trappings, but Once Upon A Time in China goes farther than being a simple matter of spectacle and indeed offers a film that comes to the forefront in a consideration and critique of the imperialist activities of the United States and Britain and how this particular invasion of Western Culture upon the varied regions of China extended to create inner-national animosity, while pushing a country into modernity in an uncomfortable and disjointed manner. Yet, considering that it is, at its heart, a film about the heroism of China and its people, this imperialism is acknowledge and deconstructed in a manner that could only work in a post-colonial mindset.

As noted earlier, the film focuses on the experiences of people living under the troubling imperialist shadow of Britain and America during the Qing dynasty.  However, the film looks specifically at the actions and experiences of Wong Fei-Hung (Jet Li), a noted folk hero of China and master of martial arts.  Wong is attempting to keep his disciples and his town in general during the contentious occupation of the various colonial bodies, hoping that by doing so they will eventually remove themselves from occupation of the area, and afford China a means to grow further independently.  However, Wong becomes aware of the major effects Westernization seem to be having on his country when he sees a romantic interest from his youth Siu-kawn (Rosamund Kwan), whom he refers to formally as "13th Aunt."  Siu-kwan has not only begun to speak English frequently, she has also appropriated the hairstyles and dress of Western culture, even seeming to possess the features of "traditional" western beauty as well.  Overarching Wong's struggles to prove himself to Siu-kwan are the very real issues of violent colonial bodies attempting to enact their will upon the Chinese people.  In many ways the imperial bodies, particularly the British men show little concern for their misuse of the people in the space, attacking and beating them as they see fit, all the while invading their spaces to replace structures with icons of Western decadence, the incorporation of a French restaurant being one wild example.  Indeed, one can even see the less abrasive figures of priests in the narrative as being problems, because although they do care for the people, one even sacrificing his body to save Wong, it is done so with the understanding that he is an authority figure.  As such, the narrative begins to look at how Wong, as an individual fighting against the emergence of imperial power in China relates to his fellow Chinese men, wherein his friends and students like Bucktooth So (Jacky Cheung) and Porky Wing (Kent Cheng) share his ideals, but have appropriated a certain degree of Western influence, Bucktooth even speaking relatively fluent English or suits instead of Chinese formalwear.  Yet, when it is discovered that a group of imperialist figures, as well as Chinese men are involved in high scale human trafficking, Wong and his school change their opinion on their indirect involvement in the imperialist discussion, becoming attuned to the real oppression occurring realizing that fighting is a necessity when the "influence" of an outside force oversteps its presence.

It is precisely this overstepping of boundaries that makes Once Upon A Time in China a brilliant text in a post-colonial discourse.  While there are many wonderful media outputs in the realm of colonial critiques, many spend time completely reviling its existence while somehow suggesting that it is a memory that can be removed from a nation space.  As many post-colonial theorist note, however, bodies in these spaces are irreversibly affected by the oppression and can not exist in a state of mind that is "before" the colonial presence.  Indeed, once the imperialist body has acted itself upon a space, it is near impossible for a person of even generations later to not be affected by its aftermath.  A film like Once Upon A Time in China manages to realize this idea.  The characters, seem to accept that since colonial occupation has occurred to believe that a case in which it will disappear could follow is absolutely foolish.  Instead, the characters, particularly Bucktooth and Siu-kwan choose to learn the elements of the imperialist force that will only benefit them, particularly the extension of a new language.  The style and other elements which occur are more cultural hybridity than oppression, although a case could be made that given their covering of the colonized body it takes on a degree of oppression.  The narrative, however, rejects this by showing characters who are indeed intent on only exploiting the Chinese bodies, or completely ignoring their presence in a situation, as is the case when the British and American soldiers begin a shootout completely dismissive of the Chinese royalty in the midst of the battle.  Considering this reading, Wong becomes a figure of unadulterated nativeness, his opening dance inside the Dragon kite affirm his nearly mythic attachment to his nation's traditions, yet, as much as he struggles to keep the affects of imperialism from invading upon his world, he accepts the inevitability when those around him slowly appropriate English words and clothing into their daily engagements.  One is led to believe that in the closing moments of the film when he is wearing a suit that he is doing so by choice, because in the process he still possesses the skills of ancient martial arts and an unwavering concern for what is best for his people and his nation as a whole.

Key Scene:  The dancing dragon scene is truly something of cinematic wonder, that sets up a work of lofty ambition, which, for the most part, delivers.

A great film to seek out for rental and yet another Jet Li film to possess marvelous cinematography.

He Who Controls The Rebound Controls The Game: Kung Fu Dunk (2008)

The J-Drama/K-Drama scene is something I am not familiar with, despite having a deep admiration and love for all things contemporary and East Asian.  It is not that I do not think that I would at the very least enjoy the absurd plots of Korean kids dealing with high school romances in the supernatural or find something evocative and captivating in period piece Japanese miniseries, I love both of these narratives in their filmic form, but am fully aware that an endeavor of the sort in regards to drama would suck way more time out of my day than I already do with watching movies.  Therefore, I occasionally try to nab a film that looks expressly like it is a result of Asian television more so that film and considering that Kung Fu Dunk fit within the framework of my month of martial arts films, it figured like a perfect opportunity to kill the veritable two birds.  Of course, Kung Fu Dunk is a Chinese film, but its existence is quite similar to that of the aforementioned J/K Drama works, in so much, as it is a highly stylized and overly melodramatic film that does not delve too deeply into serious social issues, although Kung Fu Dunk does venture into some rather interesting territory.  It is necessary, first off, to note that this film is nowhere near that of Shaolin Soccer, but in a humorous tip of the hat makes that rather clear from the onset.  Instead, Kung Fu Dunk exists in a space similar to that of a high school comedy that might appear in the world of The Disney Channel, right down to the archetypal characters and the absurdists adult figures.  Indeed, I could not help but draw constant comparisons between the film's main star and the indomitable media presence that is Justin Bieber.  Kung Fu Dunk is a textbook mid-grade film whose offering is nothing revolutionary, but is also not unwatchable, instead existing as a series of thoughts ideas and action sequences that were thought up by producers to create something that could be produced quickly, relatively inexpensively and turn around a quick dollar.  Considering this frame of mind, Kung Fu Dunk is fun, but never exceptional.  Indeed, it lacks the stakes or threat of narrative danger necessary to a truly good film, particularly in the martial arts and even sports drama.  The characters are likable, but not memorable.  If anything is to be outright praised about this film, it is what I can only assume to be the entire sequence that stands in as a shot-for-shot remake of a highlight reel from the games played by the 1992 USA Dream Team.

Kung Fu Dunk begins by focusing on the early life of an orphan named Fang Shijie (Jay Chou) who is taken in by a vagrant kung fu artist known for his attempts to master a technique that will alter time.  However, messing with such a dangerous technique results in the man's death and Fang is then relocated to another dojo, where he is reviled by the headmaster and used as a literal punching bag.  During an evening when he wants to escape the woes of the dojo life, Fang wanders about a park in the city, tossing cans carelessly into a trash can, with surprising precision.  This catches the eye of a hustler named Wangli (Eric Tsang) who realizes the potential Fang could have in hustling at a local bar.  During the night he takes Fang to the club and begins using his skills to win dart games, much to the frustration of the bar owner, who sends his goons to attack, all of which are fended off by the versatile Fang.  However, this bar owner is also a dear friend of the dojo master, who punishes Fang and then exiles him from the dojo.  Fan desperate returns to Wangli who comes up with the idea of using Fang's skills on the basketball court, combining his precision with the orphan narrative to create the most ideal of underdog stories.  Arriving at First University, the idealist Fang is confronted with a group of basketball players who while skilled deal with a variety of problems, whether it be the injury of their star player, or the crippling alcoholism of the team's captain Ting Wei (Bolin Chen).  Matters are made worse for Fang when his long time crush Li-Li (Charlene Choi) proves to be the sister of Ting, providing an initial anxiety to Fang as he attempts to prove his skills on the court.  While Fang is excellent at making shots, he is not as skilled at the basics of basketball and delves heavily into his training, eventually earning the respect of his teammates, although he has yet to find his family.  The First University team eventually makes it to the finals where they are forced to face Fire Ball, a team infamous for their foul play and financial backing, one that is the same as the owner of the bar with whom Fang and Wangli are at odds.  However, despite the unending cheating on the part of Fire Ball and its backers, Fang uses a long lost skill to assure a win, earning admiration from all involved and even a chance meeting with his father.

Mind you a condensed that narrative a bit, but there are also a lot of side stories going on in the film that never really come to fruition.  I am rather certain that the narrative was much longer in its inception and was wildly cut to fit a shorter film, thus assuring the limited attention span of the young adult audience for which it is likely intended.  Indeed, the film makes great strides to show how aware it is of Western youth culture, between the absurd outfits worn by the characters, to the decadent engagements of the young people as they move about the spaces of clubs drinking and dancing as though the former has no lasting repercussions, even for Ting who is depicted as being a heavy alcoholic, shaking with anxiety on any occasion where he is not guzzling alcohol out of a flask.  Other elements, like Fang's attachment to his lost family and coming to learn familial bonds through friendship, also emerge, but what I found most fascinating is the manner with which the film dealt with cheating, almost as if to put forth a larger narrative about the nature of exploitation and its unfortunate past in Chinese history.  The figure of the club/Fire Ball owner is that of a man who wills his way in everything, even hiring the referees to run afoul when it proves that Fang and his teammates might win a game.  The narrative seems to suggest that China acknowledges its problematic exploitative past through figures like the club owner, as well as Fang's father, who even dons an outfit that seems indicative of feudal Chinese power.  In the past, no amount of diligence or unified efforts could have afforded those without access to those with and even when underdogs did emerge, the person in power would stifle their movement in very real and jarring manners.  In Kung Fu Dunk it is with a baseball bat, whereas in Chinese history one thinks of the man standing up against a tank, one of the most iconic images in a post-television world.  In the end, however, the film does embrace a notion of companionship through trust and team bonding, reminding viewers that while dunking is cool it rarely wins a game.  This narrative is highly invested in a communist based ideology of unity for a common success, but entrenched within individual endeavor, it manages to avoid the trouble of blind robotic devotion and embrace the singular identity in the process.  Ideally there would be more of this in the film, but, again, it is a narrative mess that was likely the result of heavy script editing.

Key Scene:  Again the scene that might have doubled as 1992 USA Dream Team highlights is pretty wild

Honestly there is nothing really excellent about this film that makes it worth watching.  If you are bored it might be worth taking a look at, but Shaolin Soccer is a far better film for kung fu martial arts, and pretty much every Korean film about high school is better than Kung Fu Dunk.

What I Do Not Give, You Must Never Take By Force: Curse Of The Golden Flower (2006)

Sumptuous.  That is the only way to appropriately describe a film like Curse of the Golden Flower.  It is rare for a film to be so colorful, visually mesmerizing and luscious, while still also proving to be incredibly evocative in its narrative, one that is Shakespearean in its undertaking.  Few directors were able to do this with any consistency during their career, Akira Kurosawa being the prime example of this, however, while he has not had quite as prolific a career as Kurosawa, Yimou Zhang has been able to captivate and enthrall audiences with his visually engaging material since first coming onto the global cinematic scene with his troubling Raise the Red Lantern and consistently releasing films that challenge the notions of what constitutes traditional imagery in Chinese cinema.  While my personal favorite by the director is likely to forever remain Hero, I cannot think of another film, aside from those that rely heavily on CGI-based special effects, that has looked so beautiful based entirely on its color palette.  Indeed, as I struggle to make a comparison to another director, my mind immediately jumps to the work of Satyajit Ray, whose films, while in black and white, contain such a regal sense of beauty that one earnestly gets the feeling of being present for the events.  In most cases this quest of a cinematic beauty would suffice and would prove enough for the film to gain a large world audience, however, like Kurosaway, Zhang realizes that narrative cinema also rests on having a well-executed story that is delivered with consistency.  Casting the likes of Chow Yun-Fat and other notable Chinese actors, Curse of the Golden Flower takes on yet another level of Shakespearean evocation, in its performances, each actor immersing themselves fully in their roles to lend to the visual statement of the film.  At times I found myself think that this could be half the film it is and still have proven to be a wild success.  Sure, it might be a bit of a stretch to include it in my month of kung fu/martial arts films, but there are Dynasty Warrior-esque fight scenes, and for being a last minute addiction to the list when another planned film fell through, it has made me glad to catch up with another Zhang work, while already considering a way to marathon view the remainder of his films.

Curse of the Golden Flower is situated in during a particular festival in imperial era China involving a lavish homage to the golden chrysanthemum.   The festival is only a backdrop to the dealings of The Emperor (Chow Yun-Fat) who finds himself at odds with a particularly troublesome military campaign where he fights along side his son Prince Jai (Jay Chou).  His returning to his palace results in a high degree of paranoia between his wife The Empress (Gong Li) and her stepson Prince Wan (Liu Ye) who have been engaging in an illicit affair for years.  Wan, however, is not entirely committed to The Empress and has been having his own affair with the palace doctor's daughter Jiang (Li Man).  Suffice it to say, the various relationships and tenuous family ties lead to deception and plots at rebellion, particularly the one planned by The Empress to take down The Emperor, by obtaining the aid of Prince Jai.  Of course, The Empress's paranoia concerning her husband is not ungrounded as it is eventually discovered with the help of a spy that The Emperor, has been attempting to, for a considerable amount of time, poison The Empress by mixing a highly toxic black fungus into her drinks.  While the fungus does not succeed in killing The Empress it does cause her to become mentally unstable, thus leading to her wild and confrontational admittance to her plots, even dismissing Wan and revealing their previous affair.  After a few assassinations and even more acts of punishment, Prince Jai finds himself taking heed of The Empresses's suggestions and planning a revolt against The Emperor.  Mounting an army full of golden armored warriors, the men of Prince Jai's army bombard the palace, which is being heavily defended by The Emperor's own grey armored men.  Made aware of the attack earlier, The Emperor strategically defends his palace and only the stubborn Jai continues his assault, eventually being captured and brought before The Emperor. The Emperor offers to spare the life of Prince Jai on the condition that he be willing to give the poison to The Empress, an offer he refuses, instead choosing suicide, much to the despair of The Empress and surprise of The Emperor.

For a film that is essentially a gloriously shot and visually audacious narrative on family drama, it is quite interesting to consider the ways in which this film avoids the use of names to signify the personal. Indeed the two biggest authority figures in the film are referred to constantly as The Empress and The Emperor, at times, even by their own children.  Authority in this context is entirely a result of lineage, yet, the lineage also comes with a high degree of signifiers, ones that are almost all nominal.  The Empress is not really the mother to all the figures, yet she is to be treated as a maternal authority, which, of course, means that a large issue of Oedipal complexes arise, even if pulled from a non-biological context.  Indeed the relationship between Prince Wan and The Empress is not incest per se, but given the attachment towards names and the authority they carry, it manages to suggest such, particularly when the betrayal emerges.  Indeed, when The Empress discovers that Wan has found himself another lover, her reactions seem almost indicative of a maniacal mother figure out to protect their child from the dangers of the public, circa Carrie.  One would assume that as lovers it would take on a different context, but, again, the naming and authority that comes with such actions result in an unusual result.  Even the brother recognize their privilege to be contingent on relational elements to The Emperor and The Empress, thus explaining why Prince Jai is afforded such authority, because he stands to be the son of both the matriarch and the patriarch, as opposed to Wan who is only the son of the patriarch, albeit, the lover of the matriarch as well.  Yet, for all the concern of asserting unquestioned power in a role of authority, Zhang's film does make it rather clear that those in power, particularly males, are afforded a means to change the rules and remove those from spaces of power as they see fit.  Viewers first see this occur with his removal of Wan's mother from society altogether, leading to her insidious revolt and very violent punishments.  However, this also occurs in the closing moments of the film, when in a state of frustration and rage, The Emperor is able to appropriate his name and power to cause those right below him to die.  Interestingly, the film does show the power that an mass of people can exert against one figurehead, perhaps as a second level of irony to the faulty importance placed upon such points of authority.

Key Scene:  The first shot of the palace grounds covered n chrysanthemums will take your breath away, I assure you of that.

I am going to buy a copy of the bluray just to have play as ambience, it is really a visually captivating work.

It's A Sin To Hold A Grudge: Shaolin Temple (1982)

There was a particular type of kung fu film I was expecting to watch when I undertook this marathon and while most of the films I have seen thus far have been considerably enjoyable, they were not within this frame of reference I had inexplicably created.  For example, I expected there to by a heavy degree of acrobatics and gravity defiance in the films, only to be offered something like The Man From Nowhere that is very much attached to the reality of physical violence.  Similarly, I expected highly idealistic and lofty narratives about justice and understanding what is right, yet Riki-Oh completely rejected all notions of the place violence plays in martial arts.  Indeed, had I not finally got a chance to see Shaolin Temple, I would have completely rejected the possibility of any such type of martial arts film existing, anywhere but in my mind.  Being Jet Li's first film, Shaolin Temple has managed to attain a cult status to varying degrees, which is understandable because on a surface level it is not quite the pure adrenaline pounding experience one expects from a martial arts induced film and occasionally suffers from some serious continuity errors.  Needless to say, it is still a rather audacious work, particularly in terms of some of the choreography, with battles and feats of athleticism stretching over rivers and waterfalls and across the walls of town fortresses.  No amount of time was spared in making these scenes look believable, despite their rejection of physics and it is really in this element that the movie shines, taking the notion of the transcendence the monks possess and giving it a visual element with which the viewers might draw metaphorical inspiration.  Indeed, I found myself learning a whole new set of teachings about the ways and world of Buddhism from this fight heavy movie and while to say one learned from a movie about fighting Buddhist monks might seem a bit oxymoronic, it really captures and considers some of the tougher issues in the philosophical framework.  Furthermore, when in the late 90's and early 2000's the wave of neo-martial arts films were released featured entire fights that occurred off of the ground, I assumed that they were entirely of their own creation, but it is clear that a work like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon pays its respects to Shaolin Temple, knowing that its ethereal quality is only a result of another directors daring choices decades earlier.

Set up as a historical docudrama, Shaolin Temple focuses on a transitional period in Chinese government, when the dueling Sui and Tang dynasties uses the spaces of China to advance their forces and ideologies, often not sparing the persons who occupied these spaces in the process.  One such person being a young man named Jue Yuan (Jet Li) who after the death of his father attempts to fight off the military forces ends up being wounded a fleeing to a town with a Shaolin monastery.  Wounded a group of the Buddhist monks agree to take him in and heal him, while trading this service for his devotion as a worker in the temple, all of this of much concern to the Abbot who finds Jue to be a person of potential evil and unfit to be present in the temple.  Nonetheless, Jue stays and becomes a part of the temples family, engaging in their chores, while also longing to learn the skills of Shaolin kung fu which he sees while walking the grounds one day.  Despite continually begging to be part of the training, he is denied, being told that it is a practice that takes a lifetime of training and a sense of unbridled discipline.  During his time in the temple, Jue also begins a pseudo-romantic relationship with a young woman named Bai Wu Xia (Ding Lan) who happens to be the daughter of another prominent martial artist.  It is indeed Bai's father Shi Fu (Hai Yu) who agrees to train Jue, although it is in a variant of Shaoln kung-fu, because as a non-monk he is not trained and indeed forbidden to teach the particular style of the monastery.  Nonetheless, Jue takes to his training with much zeal, always having his revenge lingering in the back of his mind, one that has now expanded to a hope of killing the emperor with his own hands.  It is this revenge that result in his inability to restrain himself even during simple sparring matches and Jue comes close to killing one of his fellow monks, resulting in his being banned from practicing kung fu.  In fact, it is not until the arrival of yet another kung fu master whose own relationship with the emperor is quite negative that Jue is able to find a compatriot in a quest for revenge.  The two take to traveling incognito in a quest to kill the emperor, one that is eventually completed, bringing peace back to China.  These acts afford Jue a chance to be a monk finally, although the lifestyle does not come without considerable sacrifices.

The description I just gave is rather all over the place and loaded with a ton of seemingly non-linear events.  I tried my best to grab the highlights, but for a movie that is only about an hour and a half long there is a lot going on, if you do not believe me I suggest looking at the Wikipedia plot description for this film, it could foreseeably take as long to read as it would to watch the film.  Nonetheless, I think this narratively intense film speaks to the nature of a historical epic as it relates to a place like China whose vast lands and diverse populations mean that identity and singular stories are not only frowned upon but almost entirely negated.  Sure the film focuses primarily on Jue's own quest for revenge, but director Chang Hsin Yen makes it rather clear that his choices as a character, effect the larger narrative, even the historical outcome of events.  This is seen perhaps most clearly in his relationship with Bai, which begins as innocent, but takes a decidedly dark turn, when in an unfortunate accident, Jue kills Bai's dog.  Enraged Bai refuses to talk to Jue, but this refusal leads to the two being present when Bai is attacked, wherein Jue saves her and affords her life, a trade for the death of her dog Bai gladly makes.  Problematic without a doubt, this nonetheless speaks to a notion that singular events to not affect a person in any degree of singularity, in fact, each choice Jue makes pushes him away or towards the possibility of a life with Bai, one that is ultimately denied, because when he decides to pursue the life of a monk, he must dismiss all earthly pleasures, including the possibility of taking a wife.  Of course, sacrifice is reconsidered in the film, as due to a decree by the new emperor, Jue is still allowed to enjoy wine for some inexplicable reason.  This is only a minor example for the larger narrative, because one could certainly argue that were it not for Jue's initial arrival at the monastery that none of the Buddhist monks of the Shaolin temple would ever have been faced with the emperor's wrath, nor would they have been given the task of caring for a large amount of refugees from war torn spaces.  Much like the Buddhist notion that all is interconnected, this film moves in and out of story lines with such a pace and precision that it would be impossible to extract any singular identity, because at all times everything is of one.

Key Scene:  Jue's first encounter with the Shaolin monks training is a spectacle of kung fu and clearly iconic in regards to what would define the look of a martial arts film.

This is a rather easy film to come across considering that it is essentially in the public domain as it relates to Chinese cinema.  However, renting it might be a safe bet, before purchase.

The Old Fear The Strength Of The Youth: Fist of Legend (1994)

I knew going into this kung fu marathon that expecting great acting would be somewhat foolish, because for many of these films the action is intended to trump the narrative, not to mention most of the films are dubbed anyways so any hope at discerning a decent performance is near impossible.  Perhaps that is what allowed for Fist of Legend to be such a different experience from what I have viewed thus far.  It is not an excellent film, but is certainly above average, possessing some of the best choreography I have seen yet, while also presenting it within the context of a historical moment in which national distrust ran rampant.  The narrative falters throughout and, ultimately, does not deliver in a cohesive manner, but what is lost in this department is absolutely made up first in the aforementioned choreography that is nothing short of perfect and in the performances of the actors who approach their roles with a degree of sincerity and poise that is often not associated with an action oriented period piece and certainly not one with martial arts as its central driving force.  While all the performers are top notch it is Jet Li who absolutely brings it here and makes whatever narrative cohesion that lacks work by adding a degree of authority and believability to the entire cause.  While I would say this was a bit of a surprise, in that for some time I had written Li off as an action star (although I love Hero so I should have known better), it was when I caught up with the blind buy of Ocean Heaven that I truly realized that Jet Li had acting chops.  In Ocean Heaven he plays a struggling, single working class father whose task in life is to take care of his mentally challenged son.  A film where the melodramatic would have sufficed, Li makes a choice to go minimal and it makes all the difference.  I am glad that I had this film in my catalogue,  because it now allows me to reconsider Li's performances when I run into them in different contexts and specifically helped me to realize that in Fist of Legend he brings this same degree of minimalism to his performance, allowing the characters words to have a decided degree of authority and gravitas.  Furthermore, considering that it is a subdued performance, one unconsciously allows it to juxtapose with the wild fight scenes adding intensity to them, while also reinforcing the mentally serene character Li plays.

Fist of Legend is set in 1930's Shanghai when the large city was heavily occupied by countries as a result of an ensuing war, most notably the British and Japanese presence that forced Chinese citizens to follow the rules and expectations of their country, regardless of rights to land and space.   One such person experiencing this absurd occupation is Chen Zhen (Jet Li) a Chinese student studying engineering at a Japanese school.  When he is approached by a group of unruly Japanese martial art students who want to kick him out simply because he is Chinese, he reveals himself to be an expert martial arts expert, much to the frustration of the young fighters, but to the elation of their sensei Funakochi Fumio (Yasuaki Kurata) who has come with rather tragic news of the death of Chen's own master during a martial arts bout with a rival dojo.  Stunned Chen immediately leaves to return to his dojo only to discover it is moral disarray as the master's son Ting'en (Chin Siu-ho) desperately attempts to establish his authority.  After Chen approaches the leader of the dojo that killed his master, the lack of skill possessed leads him to believe that foul play likely led to his death.  Ordering an autopsy, it is quickly revealed that Chen's master was indeed poisoned resulting in the final straw that breaks sense of decency and order within the dojo.  Chen, realizing that to follow the order of challenges and authority will never result in justice he begins a personal quest to avenge the death of his late master, one that leads to a discovery of internal betrayal and political corruption.  In the midst of his quest for justice, Chen is framed in the murder of the dojo master with whom he challenged and heads to court to defend his name, it is during this endeavor that it is revealed that he has been involved with a Japanese woman, leading to his banishing from the dojo, who feel that such an act betrays his entire nation and training.  Accepting this he takes his Japanese girlfriend and moves to the countryside assuming that he can no longer aid in the process of vengeance, yet when he is visited by Funakochi and eventually Ting'en he is convinced that his presence is necessary, as they head to attack the mastermind behind his master's death the general Go Fujita (Billy Chow) who has earned the appropriate name Killing Machine.  After a confrontation that is wildly violent and destructive, Chen comes out on top, using his newly learned defensive attacks to topple the aggressive fighter.  This endeavor earns the admiration of a Japanese ambassador and further gains him a right to move about the occupied Shanghai with considerably more freedom.

While it would be quite easy to read this as a text solely concerned with imperialism, it would be somewhat easy and merely result in a rehashing of the plot, which has already occurred above.  Although it is worth noting that the film really only considers issues of colonization as they affect the male body, while depicting the female body as submissive and supportive to the masculine struggles.  Nevertheless, the film exists as a larger consideration of the issues of class and agency, one where group mobilization only serves a certain degree of productivity, when one is versing a person with considerable wealth or political power.  Indeed Chen, despite his ability to attend engineering school, reflects a person of lower class status, coming up as an orphan and earning his respect through physical labor, at least metaphorically so in his being a high ranking martial artist.  This stands in stark contrast to Fujita who is clearly of wealth and, therefore, has trained his body externally by using the bodies of others to harden his own.  A dichotomy then emerges between Chen and Fujita, Chen representing a person who is in a constant state of internal struggle, having to navigate and negotiate what he sees as valuable, because in most cases he cannot possess both, having to either sacrifice dojo or his love to assure the justice he initially seeks.  Even in the films closing when he has attained his girlfriend it is suggested that given the political state of Shanghai that this could continue to be temporary.  Fujita, as a counter, does not have to choose anything, because all is provided for him, at least in his world view that is the case.  His movement through spaces in a destructive manner suggest that he has no value for items or bodies, because he has never been threatened with the loss of either, it is rather clear in the closing fight between himself and Chen that he will destroy without hesitation, breaking windows and statues in a blind rage to kill his enemy.  Indeed, it is quite interesting to see him react to being killed by his own sword, because it is a wonderfully metaphoric scene in which his own assumption that once an item is in his control, he possesses it in every sense, Chen counters this suggesting that to own something works on a level far larger than physically.

Key Scene:  The battle between Chen and Funakochi that occurs in the field of hay is mesmerizing and it helps to explain why choreographer Yuen Woo-pig was hired to help The Wachowski's make The Matrix, it is by far the best fight choreography I have ever encountered in a film.

I would suggest renting this film, but be warned there are apparently tons of alternately edited versions depending on where in the world you live.  I cannot find out which is a definitive version, but it appears to have suffered the same troubles as Bladerunner.

A Bum Like That Could Come In Handy: Kung Fu Hustle (2004)

For those readers who have been around since the western film marathon, they might remember that an inclusion of at least a third of the films were to consider how the genre has become a thing of revisionism, or has been severely reconsidered to face a non-classical/non-American audience.  This quest was afforded some legitimacy because I had seen a decent amount of westerns prior to even that marathon and given its influence on American cinema and culture I was aware of the various tropes.  However, when it came to creating this list of kung fu films I was truly at a loss for how many of the alleged classics I had not seen, let alone understanding what truly constituted a work within the seemingly broad genre of martial arts cinema.  Therefore, searching for works that are decidedly against genre seemed a bit of a blind endeavor, because I have self-aware enough to admit that the genre was not a thing of familiarity.  Nonetheless, given my love for all things post-modern it should be no surprise that at least one post-modern revisionist kung fu film would make the list, and from the looks of it, I doubt it will be an exclusive film.  Indeed, I have seen Stephen Chow's Shaolin Soccer in all its zany glory, but admit to coming to that film in my own personal quest to see a ton of works related to what was then my favorite athletic past-time, having since turned of legal drinking age, now thinking bar games legitimate athleticism.  But I digress, Chow's work was of familiarity in the back of my mind and I do recall it having a sense of grandeur and intensity about it, although what I witnessed in Kung Fu Hustle far exceeds anything I could have hoped for and was not only a post-genre kung fu work, but one with a layer of referentialism to cinema history so extensive as to almost be a deconstruction of the action hero proper.  It does not hurt that Kung Fu Hustle is also incredibly watchable and wildly funny, moving about the space of early 20th century China with delight and a zeal, never pushing its message too hard, but always making sure that viewers are aware that one exists, in its decided condemnation of exploitative power and a demand for exclusion of non-normative bodies, even when those bodies are of a superior physique and presence.

Kung Fu Hustle begins with the experiences of tenement building people dealing with the woes of living under the hostile expectations of their creepy Landlord (Wah Yuen) and the cantankerous and vindictive Landlady (Qiu Yeun).  Despite their constant complaints about their inability to live under the terrible conditions such as lacking water and proper shelter, their economic lack results in their remaining in the situation.  Yet, when a duo referring to themselves as members of the Deady Axe Gang, led by Sing (Stephen Chow) attempt to cause trouble it is immediately revealed that at least three martial arts experts live in the area, as well as a handful of children who are freakishly strong.  This engagement, incites the presence of the real Deadly Axe Gang, led by Brother Sum (Kwok-Kwan Chan) whose frustrations at being humiliated lead to his hiring the most infamous of kung fu masters to take on the experts in the tenement.  When a duo of musically inclined martial artists take down the various fighters, only to reveal that both the Landlord and Landlady are themselves well-known, but assumedly retired, fighters themselves, Brother Sum takes it upon himself to exploit Sing for his pickpocketing techniques that he hopes can break out the most dangerous of all living martial artists, aptly named The Beast (Siu-Lung Leung).  The Beast takes no hesitation in finding Landlord and Landlady who he believes to be somewhat worthy opponents, however, he in his combination of brutish strength and beguiling trickery manage to subdue the couple.  In a purely accidental encounter, Sing becomes involved in  the fight, revealing a body so perfected that he manages to prove immune to being beaten through the ground by The Beast.  Landlord and Landlady realize that Sing is far more than a foolish bystander and is indeed a legend of martial arts, escaping with him and allowing for his metamorphosis to occur, thus revealing that he is indeed the greatest living fighter.  In a final showdown in the tenement The Beast and Sing duel it out, wherein Sing reveals himself to be an expert of the Buddhist Palm technique which possesses a divine power that stops The Beast permanently.  Now void of all attackers Landlord and Landlady return to their life, while Sing returns to a simple life himself, working for a friend and finally settling down with a love from his childhood.

The narrative for Kung Fu Hustle is decidedly minimal for its otherworldly cinematic existence, which seems to be the opposite of the films thus far, where it is the figures who exist in a place of non-tangibility, but have been forced to engage with the real world for inexplicable reasons.  This consideration is fascinating since it is indeed a revisionist work.  The metaphor of the normal moving into the transcendental takes on wonderful proportions, both in regards to suggesting the possibility of rebirth for a person seeking genuine life changes, just as it calls attention to the fragility and frivolity of exploitative power figures.  Take for example the figure of Brother Sum, whose violent power is entrenched within his own masculine privilege, one that is undoubtedly doubled by an economic wealth.  Indeed it is in this blind place of exploit, that he is most easily undermined, attacked by the likes of Landlady and Landlord because of a foolish belief in invincibility.  In contrast a figure like Landlady, in a traditional context would not possess such degrees of authority, but in the context of the real tenement and in her more exaggerated martial artist status, she is a figure of power and respect.  In fact, it is no accident that her main feature is to wield her voice in a destructive manner, lifting, even if accidentally, from a ton of feminist theorist who suggest speaking against power to be the key element of undermining hegemony.  While one could argue that both Landlady and Landlord exist in a place of economic privilege, it is worth then considering the role of Sing, whose movement from lower class to a vessel for the gods affords a reconsideration of how power through economic mobility occurs.  Indeed, it is through his learning of a skill and allowing it to evolve that he is capable of overcoming even the most lecherous of exploitative figures, i.e. The Beast and his lying.  Sure he begins the film as a con artist, but he evolves considerably and is even shown working in a candy store at the closing of the film.  It all has a degree of escapism, but considering that it is China's second highest grossing film of all time, that is far from an issue, especially for such a mainstream work.

Key Scene:  The fight between Landlady and Landlord and the Chinese zither wielding twins is not the first battle of the film, but it is certainly the one that lets the viewer know that it is going to shift directions in a wonderful and wild manner.

The bluray is a steal and worth having in any martial arts/action film collection.

I Saw Your Name In Huge Letters: A Simple Life (2012)

As I may have mentioned at some point on the blog, I am currently attending graduate school for library and information sciences, with a special focus in digital preservation.  As such, I am afforded the very welcomed opportunity to volunteer at the Moving Images Research Collection in South Carolina where I primarily work on viewing and cataloguing police training videos.  However, one of the side project I have had the pleasure of engaging in focuses on Chinese film, particularly helping  with a conference on topics relating to Chinese film.  This weekend, as many may know, marked the beginning of the Chinese New Year, in which MIRC, as well as University of South Carolina's Confucius Institute put on a Chinese Film Festival at the local independent theater, in which they showed a variety of different films from the past few years in Chinese film, most notably A Simple Life a film of great stature in China, as well as one directed by Ann Hui a prominent Chinese filmmaker who also happens to be a woman.  I came into this film only being aware that Ann Hui was a bit of an art house icon in China and was only beginning to make her name on a global market, however, I had been assured by many fans and experts in Chinese film that she was a big deal and that her films were well worth exploring.  Going into A Simple Life, I assumed that the film would be quite cinematic and terribly heart-wrenching considering the films narrative thread, however, what I did not expect was for the film to be a perfected lesson in poetic realism.  Hui's film moves through a narrative space with equal parts serenity and solemnity providing what could easily be described as the perfect hybridization of the stylistic methods of the late Japanese master Yasujiro Ozu and prominent Chinese director Wong Kar-Wai.  A Simple Life clearly went under the radar in 2011/2012, competing with a decidedly political set of foreign films, many of which considered the nature and effects of war.  While A Simple Life certainly incorporates a heavy amount of comedy in its execution, one would be a fool to miss the very serious commentaries existing within the narrative, as well as one of the most envisioned non-traditional family narratives ever considered.


A Simple Life centers on Ah Tao (Deanie Ip) an aging maid for the wealthy director Roger (Andy Lau) whose bachelor lifestyle has never really come undone, particularly considering that Tao clearly exists as a maternal figure to the not-so-young man.  When Tao suffers an unexpected stroke Roger is left to reconsider his role as a caregiver to an individual who has provided him so much love over the entirety of his life, in fact, Tao has been the servant to his family for some sixty odd years, in what apparently began as a political revolution.  Despite his considerably busy schedule as a director, Roger attempts to care hand and foot for Tao, who is bothered by this and demands that she be placed into a retirement home, even against Roger's concerns, knowing fully the sleazy nature of such establishments.  Fortunately, Roger is able to place Tao into a home ran by a former stuntman and assures that she is taken care of financially and emotionally.  No amount of careful oversight on the part of Roger manages to block Tao from experiencing the rather dreadful state of being elderly in contemporary China, whether it be encounters with half-assed charity outreach groups, or with frustrated caretakers who become physically aggressive with problematic patients.  Tao serves as sort of angel of the retirement home in her gentle demeanor sharing her food and money with any and everyone, even in instances when the money goes to sinful behavior, or is greatly under underappreciated.  The realization that she will slowly die lies in the back of Tao's mind and is only reaffirmed by witnessing other members of the home pass along, even one of its youngest members Mui (So-yin Hui) whose inability to afford proper dialysis technology leads to her demise.  Knowing that the time Tao has remaining is fleeting, Roger takes her on many trips outside of the retirement home, even bringing her as a date to a big film premiere, as well as along to a Chinese New Year celebration, in which she is able to see her only grandchild who is Chinese-Korean.  Of course, sickness gets the best of Tao and she passes on, but not without having a clear impact on even the most troubled of persons.  In the films closing moments, one is led to believe that her kind spirit lingers on well beyond her passing.

I am not an expert in Chinese culture, nor do I know much about their films beyond being aware of some of the mainland works that were huge in the 90's and being a die hard fan of John Woo's Hardboiled.  Yet, I am rather aware of the issue of aging as it relates to China, one in which the elderly community is pushed aside and nearly forgotten in the face of modernity.  The fact, that many of the characters depicted in the film are elderly folks who are pushed aside does not just ring true for contemporary China, but is, in fact, the case for most of the world, making the universality of A Simple Life land almost immediately.  It is quite easy to relate to Roger who clearly longs to be a close person to his maternal maid, but is also forced away from her in order to fulfill works requirements, most people have a family member for with whom they are close but a variety of factors block their unity.  Another element of the film that stands out its the way in which Tao is clearly far to aware and capable to be placed in the bizarre world of retirements homes where bodies are pushed aside and disability is loathed.  The nurturing nature of Tao kicks into gear immediately and she essentially becomes another nurse, helping persons eat their food or sew a button back onto a coat.  Tao desired to go to the home to  avoid being a burden to Roger, however, the same acts that caused her sickness in the first place seem to occupy her time within the retirement home, much to the disdain of Roger, but to the welcome embrace of the weary employees of the home.  Of course, this story is rather unusual in that Roger does often visit Tao, much more than perhaps she thinks he should, yet no amount of unity and bonding can provide Tao an escape from the drudgery and despondent world of the home and much of this come to fruition during a particularly lonely night at the home.  It demands viewers to consider the very real effects of loneliness, even in a temporary state, although Hui makes it clear that for most persons the loneliness is a long forming experience.  Perhaps it is much more an advocation for create family where possible than a condemning of retirement home culture, but both narratives exist and deserve equal consideration.

Key Scene:  Tao and Roger talking after his movie preview party will go down as one of the sweetest moments I will ever encounter in a film and is guaranteed to yank at your heartstrings.

While it will be near impossible to see in theaters, an impending bluray release is certainly the way to go.  It is a film more than well worth owning.

For Your Awareness: Kickboxer's Tears (1992)

I recall some time ago having a rather heated debate as to the value and necessity of dubbing movies, particularly those centering on Asian martial arts, a category that seems particularly subjected to problematic and often terrible dubbings. The friend I was discussing this with suggested that in a few instances dubbing managed to save a film from being altogether unwatchable, or manages to make dry plots and terrible dialogue seem humorous.  While many of his reference included some of the more obscure Godzilla spin-offs, I have come to understand his argument after my recent viewing of Kickboxer's Ters, tilted Xin long zhong hu dou, if you were to see the film in its original Chinese context.  A film that is preoccupied with the world of underground martial arts, in this case kickboxing, the movie is not of particular note and aside from some rather impressive cinematography and unusual gender commentaries manages to be lackluster and tragically dated.  Fortunately the particular version of the film I watched suffered from what may well be the worst case of dubbing I have ever encountered in a film.  I am not sure if the actors were Americans, English speaking Chinese guys trying to sound black or a set of Australians, because at not point is one characters voice consistently dubbed by the same person, nor is it delivered with a committed concept within the same scene.  I am sure some of the death scenes and moments of subtle intimacy were quite nice upon their initial release, but the reprehensible manner in which the various actors deliver the lines manages to take any sort of beauty out of scenes and any sort of seriousness out of even the most intimidating characters.  By about ten minutes into this work, I had convinced myself that it consisted entirely of b-roll footage from the television version of Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers, a notion that I have still not completely dismissed.

I am realizing that my "For Your Awareness" posts either take on the completely absurd or the completely artistic in their endeavor, only being connected by the obscurity factor.  Like my posts about Greed or Starcrash, I think a film like Kickboxer's Tears needs to be saved from obscurity, in this case not because it is a particularly profound piece of filmmaking, instead; because it is a thing to be viewed and pondered, much more in the vein of Troll 2 or Plan 9 From Outer Space.  Excluding the cinematic masterpiece that is obscure due to its lack of completion in Greed, each of the previous mentioned films have an aura of earnestness about their creation, it is clear that somewhere somebody was passionate about making Kickboxer's Tears, particularly the fight scenes which, while well choreographed take up a ridiculous amount of the filmic narrative.  Their are touches of Raging Bull within the film as well as some more than blatant references to Bloodsport, yet Kickboxer's Tears manages to exist as something less fantastic, certainly not aided by the previously mentioned dubbing.  I chose to mention the film though because it is so fun to watch and caused me to be surprised on multiple occasions, certainly by some of the POV camera work and some well-executed fight scenes.  Instead of offering this as a film of great cinematic value, Kickboxer's Tears is a midnight movie through and through, one that is quite deserved of its own drinking game and absurd cult following.

I would say buy a copy of this DVD, but my initial viewing of my copy was a result of discovering how valuable the disc was worth.  I went into watching it thinking I would hate it and sell it for the large profit immediately.  However, it is just too awesomely terrible to disown.  In which case I wish you luck finding a copy, mine came from a free bin at a used media store, which makes be consider the presence of a spiritual being even as I complete this sentence.  Also take note of how uneventful every persons death is within the film, it is laughably bleak.