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.

Must You Hide Behind The Image Of Another Man: Legend Of The Seven Golden Vampires (1974)

There are no shortage of genre hybrid films in the history of cinema, and given a push towards the digital/indie market in a more contemporary setting these, along with anthology films seem to be taking the market by surprise.  Many of these films are decidedly revisionist and while highly enjoyable also possess a degree of detached irony or situate themselves as a critique of one genre through the inclusion of the other.  I have no problem with this, but it takes a considerable amount of the cinematic zeal out of it when one becomes aware of the layers of commentary going on within the directors offering.  I, as such, assumed that genre hybrid films were always to be a thing I would pursue if in a particular mood or hoping for something completely off-the-wall, returning to Singing Cowboy films being a constant.  Yet, when creating my list for the kung fu marathon, I was recommended by a stalwart cinephile and purveyor of all things excellent to check out, amongst other things Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires.  Admittedly the name alone was enough to pique my interest, although I also assumed that it would be a film entirely entrenched within some of the more badly executed Chinese films of the seventies, ones that implode within their own excessiveness.  However, when I began watching the film and was given "A Hammer/Shaw Brothers Production" to read, I went crazy.  When one considers the genre of horror films, Hammer is the grandfather of all things gloriously macabre, whereas, an argument that the Golden Age of kung fu cinema began and ended with the work released by the producing brothers.  At first, it appears as though Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires will be nothing more than a cleverly edited film that is two distinctly different stories using the Hammer and Shaw names as a marketing ploy, but this fear is quickly squashed when the icons and bodies famous to the Gothic horror begin to interact with those of the Shaw Brother world, breaking visual boundaries through the space of genre, while also doing a surprising amount to ease racial and language based tensions during a time when foreign cinema, particularly that of the art house style, where reading subtitles was one of many concerns.  This intersection of crossover foreignness, even if decidedly Westernized represents a moment in cinema that is near impossible.  The fact that Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires  even exists is a feat all its own, the realization that it is also a great movie is simply a wonderful added benefit.

Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires, begins with a flashback to Transylvania in the early 19th century, as a shaman from China seeks out the castle where the infamous Dracula (John Forbes-Robertson) resides.  Finding him asleep in a mausoleum, the shaman is quickly horrified to discover not only that Dracula desires to come back to live, but that he also intends to use his body as a vessel, thus changing his appearance bend then affording himself the opportunity to find new bodies to feed off of in China.  After this prologue, viewers are introduced to Lawrence Van Helsing (Peter Cushing) who has taken up residence as a professor at a Chinese university, claiming that Dracula's influences have stretched to the Far East and have led to a set of vampires ruining the Chinese countryside.  Many of the students flippantly dismiss Van Helsing with the exception of Hsi Ching (David Chiang) who claims not only to have proof that the Seven Golden Vampires Van Helsing discusses exist, but that he and his brothers have been sworn to protect their villagers from the constant attacks of the undead monsters.  Requiring proof of this, Van Helsing travels with Hsi, and brings along his son  Lelyand Van Helsing (Robin Stewart) and a wealthy baroness named Vanessa Buren (Julie Edge) to finance the  trip.  The group eventually meet up with Hsi's siblings which include a variety of martial arts experts, including his sister Mai Kwei (Shih Szu) with whom Lelyand takes to liking.  While Van Helsing is driven by ambition to complete his mission, he is also aware of the dangers befalling anybody hoping to fight one, let alone, seven vampires.  The skills of Hsi and his siblings, nonetheless, proves high and they take out the vampires one by one, watching them melt away after being destroyed, Lelyand even throws his fists about in a pub fighting inspired version of martial arts, although he seems constantly concerned with his ability to protect his new love interest Mai.  Ultimately though, the villain still remains to be Dracula and as such it is Van Helsing who must confront him, demanding that he return to his original body before fighting him, eventually stabbing him with a spike and causing the count to decay in front of his eyes.  Exhausted, both physically and mentally, Van Helsing sighs, hopefully, having forever rid the world of Dracula's evil presence.

So what makes this work as a hybrid?  It is tricky to decide whether or not it is the nations varied influences that make this film work, or what they pull from the respective genres, but it seems simplest to suggest that it is a combination of both.  For example, the film clearly lifts its ambiance and costuming from the world of Hammer, the makeup of all involved carries that faded pastel look that made Hammer iconic, whether it be the sickly green of Dracula's face or the bright, yet florid blood that covers anybody dying or injured.  Furthermore, even when in pagodas the sense of the setting possesses the decadence, indicative of a Hammer film, right down to the seemingly inescapable amount of cobwebs covering the walls.  This is one element, the film seems more invested in the Shaw Brothers martial arts stylings when considering the editing and production of the film.  For example, there are a heavy amount of zoom-in and pan outs throughout the film, one notable one involving a beheaded frog, that capture the frenetic nature of the action of kung fu cinema, which are far less present in the slow-pacing moodiness of a Hammer film.  The two put together become nearly transcendental, playing off of one another much like a great improvisational jazz set.  Culturally the films seem to be a exercise in well-thought out symbiosis.  Take the dialogue interactions throughout the narrative.  Scenes between the British characters have the rat-a-tat-tat of choppy, loquacious British demeanor, while scenes involving the Chinese character, take on the drawn out waxing poetics of honor, family and identity that are very present within the genre.  At times, the two come together and you can witness the Chinese character playing with language in ways that would be more indicative of a Hammer film, whereas, Van Helsing at times will draw out his speech and ideas to represent the narrative leanings of a quest to become a master, in his case of killing Dracula.  These are only a few examples, issues of religion and fraternal bonds also emerge, wherein the two cultures ideas are initially separated, only to converge in the most thrilling of ways.

Key Scene:  When the fight starts involving vampire deaths, the movie's hybridity takes on a new level.  Never has a drawn out melting vampire shot felt so frantic.

The DVD is a bit pricy, but trust me this is more than worth the investment.

So...How About Some Coffee: Ninja 3: The Domination (1984)

The kung fu marathon, in its inception, included me glancing at my seemingly unending pile of "to be watched eventually" films which are usually things that I have a mild interest in or figure, I might need to be aware of for future projects.  It also includes things that are passed my ways as gifts, recommendations, or in a very recent case a benefit of providing some research for a documentary.  As such, getting around to these films can seem like a chore, often times proving to be middle of the road films that do not fall in a particular way, while in other instances, as was the case recently with The Woodsman and Finding Forrester, proving to be cinematic gems that would never have come into my radar were they not in the pile I just mentioned.  Ninja III is such a film, in so much, as I had never seen  its prequels, nor as I aware of its existence, until it was passed along to me as a partial payment for some work I did for a friend.  As such, it was one of the first things I sat aside for this marathon, because I knew that its prominent featuring of ninjas, at least in the plot description and title, would be more than enough to suffice for inclusion in a month devoted to the martial arts genre.  Shout Factory is clearly marketing Ninja III as a bad-movie that happens to be embraced for its absurdity and in this aspect it is hard to deny, particularly considering some of the narrative choices, as well as some grade A terrible acting choices.  I, however, assume that given its non-studio status that Ninja III did not possess a very high production budget.  This is an aspect where the film really shines, particularly, since the cinematography is often composed in a manner that gives scenes a pictorial nature, playing heavily with shadowing to add ambiance.  Mind you, this is a film about a dead ninja possessing a woman's body and making her into a killer, one would not really expect anything in the way of soundtrack, editing and filmmaking to matter, instead all reflecting the same issues as those shown in the bad writing and acting.  Ninja III is a well-made movie, that just happens to be really ill-conceived in the elements that least reflect the "architects" of the frame.  Had the director given a second thought to demanding more out of his performers and had those same performers questioned their character's motives even slightly, Ninja III could have move from terrible to slightly above average.  Of course, this is not all bad because in its existing as a terrible film it has obtained a new life that is often not afforded to better films that are decidedly middle-of-the-road.

Ninja III begins with a ninja entering a cave and grabbing an assortment of what one would assume to be the assassin's tools, ranging from katanas to the most extensive variety of shuriken imaginable.  One would assume with such a setup that the ninja will be the film's protagonist, but this proves to be far from the case when only moments later the ninja shows up during a round of golf, quickly killing his guards, the women with him and the man, only to result in his being chased down by the police.  The police with their various cars and even a helicopter prove no match for this ninja, as he destroys all in his path.  Even after being repeatedly gunned down by a set of police, the ninja manages to escape, at which point he runs into Christie (Lucinda Dickie) a woman who works as a telecommunications engineer.  Realizing he is wounded Christie attempts to help, only to have the ninja flail about in an attempt to attack her, yet in his last words he appears to cast something upon her in desperation before finally keeling over and dying.  Thrown off by the entire endeavor, Christie heads to the police station after reporting the dead body, where one cop, Billy Secord (Jordan Bennett) moves out of his job as a officer and immediately begins hitting on Christie.  Initially, Christie is dismissive of his advances, yet when she has a bizarre vision of him being involved in the shooting of the ninja she agrees to begin dating him.  After some unusual misuse of tomato juice and a lot of body hair, the two become a couple, despite Christie continuing to have visions of the various officers involved in the killing of the ninja, many of whom seem to smoke cigars while on the job.  Concerned for Christie and worried as the members of his police force begin disappearing, Billy takes Christie to a spiritual advisor in the Asian area of their town, who explains that she has indeed been possessed by the dead ninja, thus explaining her quest for revenge, offering to perform a sort of exorcism of the spirit, although warning that it is an incredibly dangerous.  Furthermore, considering the dangerous nature of ninjas, a warrior named Yamada (Sho Kosugi) arrives, aiding Billy and Christie in the endeavor and fighting off the nina's resurrected spirit.  However, given that it primarily occupied Christie, her involvement in the slaying of the spirt is much more hands on than Yamada might have expected.

I could do a critical reading of the film, but it would almost become flippant and mocking of the work and its clearly misguided attempts at being a cool film in terms of characters and narrative, which in most cases fails miserably.  Furthermore, while it does bend gender assumptions a bit throughout, it almost seems coincidental as opposed to well reasoned and revolutionary.  Instead, I want to consider a few of the cinematic choices that make the film sound from a production aspect, since it will likely never receive mention in contrast to the film's terrible elements.  Firstly, the opening shot of Ninja III depicts the villain stepping into a cave and cinematographer Hanania Baer situates the camera inside the shadows of the cave, thus allowing the figure to exist in a cloud of dusty light as he moves into the darkness of the space, nicely juxtaposing his movement from a suit and assumed simplicity, to the villainy of his black ninja suit.  This was clearly a production choice that looks absolutely stunning, almost as though it could have fit into one of The Dark Knight films, perhaps the third of the franchise which could have benefitted greatly from the addition.  The second element that is worth considering is the scene in which Christie becomes fully possessed.  The scene shows her playing a video game, which appears to consist of breaking up bar fights, nonetheless, when she steps away and returns moments later, the arcade begins smoking and the screen explodes releasing a series of laser in alternating patterns.  The lasers wash over Christie's face as she stands frozen, making for a visually stunning moment that could have been played up to a lot more absurdity, as is the case with her exorcism scene later.  I would posit that the difference between the two, undoubtedly, comes in writing.  Perhaps the possession scene was left open to the art director, while the exorcism involved dialogue and therefore described action.  There are great composition and editing tricks throughout whether it be the surprisingly well-done helicopter explosion early on, or the addition of action occurring in the background that are also worth considering.  I only call attention to them in this case, because they stand to be lost in the shadow of tomato juice-stained leotards.

Key Scene:  The best scene is easily the arcade possession, however, the wildest scene has to be either the hot tub assassination or the tomato juice seduction.

I mean, this movie is well made...really well made, but it is also not good in terms of story and dialogue.  If you want b-movie ninjas in an 80's setting go for Miami Connection...that is a certified gem.  Also, fun fact: Breakin' and Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo, both of which star Lucinda Dickie were released in the same year as this, leotards and dancing were at their height in 1984

Let's Drink A Toast To Our Ship That's Sinking: Drunken Master (1978)

I have rather vague memories of watching something regarding silent film stars while spending a summer with my grandparents.  From this documentary, I was able to glean two things:  First, I learned about Harold Lloyd and his doing amazing death defying stunts despite only having one hand.  This fact, remained in my memory and when I finally caught up with the film roughly around this time laster year, I was amazed to recollect it with little to no effort.  Secondly, I remember witnessing a portion of an interview with Jackie Chan, wherein he makes considerable note of the influences the early slapstick masters had upon his performances and particular choice to do comedic film.  The interview as aired with clips of Chan from Drunken Master, and ever since then it has been a film that seemed to just linger in my memory, so when I finally undertook this kung fu marathon, it was yet another title that "had to be" included.  There was a decided amount of hesitation to this inclusion, because I was worried that the vague memories might not have been as nice upon fully engaging with the film, particularly since the film does have a narrative it must incorporate while also displaying excellent martial arts choreography.  My memories were not completely betrayed however, because while the film does tend to wander narratively, almost to the point of being a set of sketches more than a coherent story, the choreography and fight scenes in this film are excellent, at times even outright hilarious.  I mea the fights in this are really really good, despite being under the guise of humor, what Chan and some of the other members of the cast are able to do with their bodies, often simultaneously, equals that of the prowess and perfection of the late Bruce Lee.  While I am uncertain as to where to fall critically on a film that, undoubtedly, embraces the possibility for highly functioning alcoholism, Drunken Master does manage to be a film that is both incredibly indicative of its late seventies production, while also possessing a degree of endearing coming of age elements that make for a decidedly worthwhile experience.  Chan manages to make light use of bawdy humor to great effect, while the narrative moves about in a critical manner, deconstructing misinformation concerning the expectations and limitations of gendered and classed bodies.

Drunken Master begins in a dojo where the cunning and often mischievous Wong Fei-hung, Freddy Wong in the English dub, (Jackie Chan) practices his martial arts under the tutelage of his father.  Given that his father is indeed the head of the dojo, affords Wong a considerable amount of indifference to all other authority figures, to the point of attacking them in jest.  During one day in the village, Wong makes unwarranted advances on a young girl, whose mother happens to also be present, an act that proves highly ill-conceived in the later discovery that the girl's mother is indeed related to the family.  When Wong's father discovers his childish and repugnant acts, he disowns him, claiming that the only way he could come to respect is son again would be for him to train heavily in martial arts and become a well-known master.  Of course, Wong's dad's idea of who would make a great master flies in the face of Wong's desultory lifestyle and the young man instead decides to take about moving through the world on his own.  His unemployment and lack of direction lead to attempts on his part to obtain meals from restaurants without paying, which immediately land him in hot water with the staff.  Instead of being obliterated by the other fighters, Wong is rescued by an elderly old man known as Beggar So (Yuen Siu-tien), who just happens to be a master in the unusual martial art techniques of The Eight Drunken Immortals, or more colloquially Drunken Boxing.  Still resistant to authority, Wong attempts to cheat at his training, often waiting until Beggar falls asleep to end training or advance his task in noticeable ways.  However, when Beggar is attacked by the martial arts assassin Thunderleg (Hwang Jang Lee) Wong comes to realize the importance of martial arts both as a way of defending onesself, as well as a means by which to aid those in need.  Putting slightly more effort into his training, Wong quickly becomes proficient at the various styles within drunken boxing, which range from kick heavy attacks to blocks that rely primarily on the wrist.  Wong, however, is hesitant to embrace the styles that are deemed feminine.  Nonetheless, while returning to show his father his skill, Wong meets Thunderleg in a fight, proving his skill and eventually using the very style he dismissed as a means to destroy the deadly assassin.  This act, one that happens to save his father, also gains the respect he had been denied prior, as well as a considerable amount of self-growth.

Can a film that essentially promotes a figure who uses alcohol as a means to attain his point of perfection, be considered entirely positive?  Probably not, but Drunken Master only uses this sort of stumbling buffoon iconography as a gateway to consider larger narratives of social expectation and access based on identity.  One cannot deny that Wong comes from a considerably well-to-do status since he is the son of a kungfu master and is provided a space within which to occupy indefinitely.  However, he is also a person who seems decidedly against performing stoicism or a follower of rigid social norms.  Indeed, where it not for his highly problematic advances towards the women at the beginning of the film, he would seem like a careless trickster, who was doing hardly any harm and when it did occur it was directed at persons of privilege and decadence.  As such, Drunken Master becomes not a film of conformity, but instead appropriation.  Considering that it is expected of Wong to train in martial arts and to, subsequently, become a master, a degree of seriousness is to be associated with the endeavor, much as is the case when a person decides to undertake a martial art, usually based on discipline.  Instead, Wong manages to find a martial art that, while no less impressive physically, does allow him a degree of improvisation and unruliness, thus letting his lifestyle influence his martial arts, as opposed to the restrictions of his discipline changing his personal behavior.  Wong could not be expected to ever earn a place in the prestigious ranks of a Shaolin temple, but, to be fair, he clearly has no desire to do so.  Knowing full and well that to attack the girls was wrong, Wong is capable of making changes to his life and reconsidering what is a necessary social agreement and what rules are made to be broken.  This is perhaps most clear when he steps up to defend his father against Thunderleg.  The Wong of the early portion of the film would likely have dealt with such an encounter with indifference, because he would not have seen how it affected him.  Yet, after earning the skills of his unusual form of martial arts, he also understands that killing for money is wrong and that defending against such acts is not a point of ambiguity.  Such meshes are welcomed in his mixing of styles, but not in the realm of defining and defending a human life.

Key Scene:  The moment when Beggar trains Wong through what can only be described as a "mannequin method" is impressive kung fu choreography, if only for its reliance on two bodies moving in unique ways.

This is a solid rental and well worth engaging with for its unique reconsideration of the genre, while also staying decidedly within its traditional confines.

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.

Women Make The Best Psychoanalysts, Until They Fall In Love: Spellbound (1945)

I enjoy doing blogathons, first because it proves a great way to extend my voice beyond the rather small crowd of readers hear at the blog and engage in dialogue with fellow film bloggers on great works of cinema.  The result is often a greater, of not completely new, understanding of a work, or awareness to a work I would never have come across prior.  Second, I also enjoy these blogathons, because, thus far, they have provided me wonderful opportunities to revisit some of my favorite films.  Michael and Jill's TCM Summer Under the Stars blogathon has already allowed me to re-watch the zany The Blob much to my elation.  This second post for the month, in correlation with TCM's day devoted to Gregory Peck afforded me a chance to revisit my favorite Hitchcock film Spellbound.  Considering that it has been some time since I had seen the film and have certainly been able to pad out my Hitchcock blind spots to varying degrees since, I can still say that this film is undoubtedly and unequivocally my favorite, indicative not only of the elements that have led to Hitchcock become the first definitive auteur, but also some of the ways in which Spellbound, a work decidedly entrenched within psychoanalytic narratives, manages to reject the subject matter and visual innuendos made ever so infamous by the late director.  I know that there are quantifiably better, indeed perfect, works by Hitchcock, but given that Hitchcock is clearly poking fun at himself affords this film a layer of detached irony that is less clear in his later works, not to mention the use of Ingrid Bergman, who also happens to be my favorite actress.  Pairing the great leading lady with the equally adept Gregory Peck results in a narrative that flows with intensity and earnestness that makes its winding deceit and dreamlike trance accessible.  Hitchcock wrote the texts on modern horror and thriller filmmaking and it is all on display to great effort in Spellbound, right down to the jarring last scenes in all their erie impossibility.  If all of this is not enough to sell the skeptics out there, may I remind you that Salvador Dali helped create the dream sequence for which this film is most well-known, and its very existence challenges even the most liberal understanding of cinematic possibility.

Spellbound focuses primarily on the experiences of Dr. Constance Peterson (Ingrid Bergman) a psychoanalyst, whose identification as a woman has proved both advantageous and hindering in her movement upward in the unconventional science.  The retirement of her boss and mentor Dr. Murchinson (Leo G. Carroll) proves quite troublesome, only to be extenuated by the immediate arrival of his replacement in Anthony Edwards (Gregory Peck) whose text on guilt and the labyrinth is a particular favorite of Constance's.  Hoping to stick to her guns and remain focused on her work, an initial dinner meeting between Constance and Anthony leads to obvious sexual tension that results in Constance finding herself creating excuses just to meet the new doctor, an encounter that assumedly leads to sex rather early.  It is during this meeting that Constance realizes that all might not be well with Anthony, particularly when he passes out after looking at the shadows of her robe, clearly breaking into some bizarre psychosis in the process.  The next day news comes of Antony Edwards not being alive and well, but dead after a murder, a picture affirming that he is in no way the person present in the psychiatric hospital.  Kowtowing to the suspicion, the false Anthony flees in fear, only to be followed by Constance to a hotel in New York, where it is revealed that the man, now going by John Brown, believes himself to somehow be tied to the murder of the real Anthony Edwards.  This allegation, Constance believes, is a result of mental deterioration and does not result in truth.  Committing to the act of helping John, whose last name is later revealed to be Ballentine, Constance helps the mentally troubled man discover that his fear of shadows and lines, comes from an unfortunate experience during skiing when he witness the real Edwards die inexplicably, a vision that opens up a repressed memory from his childhood involving a fatal accident with his brother.  Despite creating a rather clear psychoanalytic picture of Ballentine, Constance is stifled when authorities find a gun wound in the dead Edwards, to which neither have an explanation.  Despite Ballentine's being jailed, Constance continues her search for the truth, discovering that a little more than passing memories led to the death of Edwards and the psychological decay of Ballentine.  Indeed, foul play was afoot from the onset.

Let's talk about sex.  If this were any other film by Hitchcock, that would likely be the appropriate way to begin a critical analysis, and considering that this particular work makes it clear that it is pulling from the theories of Freud it would seem obvious to do just that, however, Spellbound may well be the least psychoanalytically inclined of his films.  Sure there are moments that would make even Freud blush, the fork and knife scene at the initial meeting between Ballentine and Constance being an obvious example, not to mention the surrealist touch with Dali's involvement.  Yet, none of this suggest a film where repressed memories are the result of wild navigations through the world, such as are the case in Vertigo, nor do the crimes take on a degree of sexual supplanting, as occurs in Dial M for Murder or Rope.  Beginning the film with a quote from Shakespeare, Hitchcock creates a film that centers the blame for crime and violence in the individual, further suggesting that their actions are not results of deeply entrenched psychological issues from one's youth, but a result of frivolous jealousy and assertions of lost masculine privilege.  For what may be the only time in Hitchcock's filmic career, a criminal act occurs, simply out of criminal intent.  That is not to say that the film does not extend on to explore psychological issues in other ways.  Take for example its look at the character of Constance, which is highly problematic by contemporary standards.  Considering that Hitchcock was quite invested in the world of the subconscious, his desire to degrade women is nothing new, except here it is particularly verbal and highly against their place in a career that would afford them authority.  Constance is played up to be good at her job, unless of course a dashing man enters the picture, at this point she loses all sense of rationality and is willing to forgive a man of murder (albeit correctly) on his word alone.  Guilt also figures prominently into the film, whether it be the falsified guilt of Ballentine early on or the very real guilt that faces the killer in the films next to last scene that involves one of the most haunting uses of point-of-view camera work in cinema to date, all adds up to the suggestion that what is ultimately the worst about murdering, or believing that one did so, is not the act, but the inability to get over doing so at a later time.  To be void of such guilt, would make one a Psycho...which is a discussion for a different blogathon.

Key Scene:  While I wanted to be unique and go against the obvious choice, one cannot help but adore that dream sequence designed by Dali.  It is the close a viewer will ever get to seeing what it would have looked like were Hitchcock to have worked in the era of German Expressionism and surrealism.

There are blurays of this available in multiple box sets, or individually.  There is also a Criterion DVD that is OOP, which is how I watched it, as such I will let you decide how to track this movie down, but I will note that it is worth doing so in the near future.  The movie is an absolute must see work.  As before I am grateful to Sittin' on a Backyard Fence and ScribeHard on Film for being able to participate in the TCM Summer Under the Stars blogathon.

We Knew The Box Was Empty All Along: Volcano High (2001)

If I have learned anything from the narrative world of cinema, it is that for anyone going to high school in a fictional world, things are especially tough, whether it be need to plan elaborately just to skip a day of school only to have Ben Stein repeatedly call your name a la Ferris Bueller's Day Off, or realizing that planning as something as simple as a house party for your friends requires deceiving your father, fighting a ton of high school bullies and then dealing with racist cops in the film of the same name.  Yet, in all their absurdity, these films manage to still exist within a state of normalcy, in the sense that the endeavors are understandable, while the obstacles might be a bit inconceivable.  This is not the case for contemporary South Korean cinema in the slightest.  While much of their output is already non-linear and narratively rejects a fictional world that fabricates a simulacra of the world viewers are to share, it is no more obvious then in the High School films being released by the country.  This is clear in the supernatural horror series that includes both Whispering Corridors and Memento Mori, wherein a ghost attack serves as a metaphor for a larger ridicule faced by a young lesbian couple.  In a more wild example, a work like Daesepo Naughty Girls looks at dealing with difference and high school cliques through a sci-fi invasion narrative that will have even the most expansive of cinematic tastes questioned and confused.  In the middle of these films exists a work like, Volcano High, which is very much in the vein of the paranormal high school narrative, while also being a film that exist within the martial arts and kung fu genre, although the fights in this film take on an psychic extension yet seen in a large degree during this marathon.  While the film is not absolutely stellar and often relies on the aid of style to negate from dealing with some of its more substantial narrative issues, it is a fun movie to look at and Tae-gyun Kim's high flying choreography paired with an industrial editing style and mise-en-scene do invoke a style of filmmaking that existed around the late 90's and early 2000's that plays very much off of the breakout cult hit The Matrix.

Volcano High, as the title suggests, focuses on the experiences of Volcano High School, a school riddled with authority problems as various leaders of clubs and organizations attempt to take back the Secret Manuscript, which holds unknown power.  The manuscript, however, is held by the heads of the school and has recently been seized by the power hungry Vice Principal (Byeon Hee-Bong).  Meanwhile a new student has come to the school in Kim Kyung-Soo (Jang Hyuk), who has been kicked out of eight schools previously for his "disruptive" classroom behavior, although the narrative seems to suggest that in every scenario it was a result of prodding and bullying by others.  Needless to say, when Kim comes to Volcano High he is instantly approached by various members of the earlier mentioned clubs to join their groups and it is made abundantly clear that these groups function as high profile gangs who engage in bouts with one another, whether it be Jang Ryang (Kimm Soo-ro) who is the captain of the weightlifting team and all around tough guy.  Ryang's willingness to assert his physical authority has led to his being labeled as the dark ox.  Furthermore, there is also Hak-rim (Kwon Sang-woo) the school's most powerful martial artist, who is framed for the disappearance of leaders after the Vice-President's move for power, nonetheless, agreeing to train Kim when he realizes his latent psychic abilities.  During his time at Volcano High, Kim also takes to liking the captain of the kendo team Yoo Chae-Yi (Shin Min-a) whose love for Hak-rim only has led to her being known as Icy Jade in that she refuses to acknowledge the advances of even Kim.  As the narrative unfolds it becomes clear that the students are being played upon one another while a push for wild power occurs by the Vice President, who hires a new set of faculty to deal with the skills of the various students, thus resulting in an authoritarian rule in the space of Volcano High that leads to a wild revolt and confrontation, which affords even the most unlikely of allies unity.  Kim, learning to harness his unique powers, becomes a hero in the school, but as the closing montage suggests, this also comes with the continued expectation that he defend such a title.

It is in this sense of contesting and reaffirming authority that Volcano High excels.  Indeed, much of the narrative is spent considering the power that words, symbols, age and gender play into who is allowed to assert their opinion or reject the ideas of a person in charge.  The most obvious sense of this comes through the constant reminder that the President of the school exudes the most authority, despite spending nearly the entire narrative in a stone like state, after being poisoned by the Vice-President.  In the case of this his age, masculinity and name have afforded him a place of unquestioned privilege and to a degree exploitation, since it is rather obvious that Volcano High is not the most well-run of high schools.  The lingering authoritative presence of the president is only one aspect of this authority, in so much as the collective of the faculty seem capable of exploiting the students based on threats of expulsion and punishment that are often vague and non-physical, which is interesting in that it seems to speak to a larger cultural issue of shame and identity.  The students at Volcano High are already a diverse group of individuals, either socially different for personal choices or physical abilities that are deemed almost that of a mutant and the thought of having a mark on their record that would suggest anything but positive would therefore ruin their career.  Knowing that once I graduated from high school and began college, everything I did in high school became irrelevant, I can still remember believing that even the smallest misstep might result in my future downfall.  It was authority working at its finest, in that its mere presence resulted in my paranoia to the point of acting far too conservatively for a majority of those years.  Foucault would have been ashamed.  While some of the students at Volcano High fear similar results, they seem far more concerned with the power possessed by the Secret Manuscript that affects the choices and movements of the main characters, despite it being revealed relatively early on that it is merely an empty box.  This empty box and indicative of rules and authority is perhaps the greatest of the filmic metaphors on authority, because it is grounded in nothing, in a very literal sense, much like many institutions of oppression and ruling.

Key Scene:  The first bamboo forrest fight is quite watchable, all be it highly referential and a bit of a rehashing of other fight scenes.

I would probably overlook this film, unless you really like Korean cinema or high school movies.  In which case you will probably adore this film.  Only thoroughly liking the former, the high school elements all seemed highly forced to me.