“Invincible Swordsman” Theatrical Poster

Director: Luo Yi Wei
Cast: Kitty Zhang Yuqi, Tim Huang Xiyan, Xuan Lu, Terence Yin, Sammo Hung, Yun Qianqian
Running Time: 118 min.

By Paul Bramhall

When Brigitte Lin was cast as the character Invincible Asia in 1992’s Swordsman 2, few could have predicted the role would become so iconic, leading Lin to spend the last 3 years of her acting career as a mainstay of the new wave wuxia genre. In just a few short years she appeared in more than 10 new wave wuxia’s, and her role in each is probably reason enough why, even with the technological advancements in the 30 years since, few directors have been bold (or dumb, depending on your perspective) enough to try and remake any of them. The last to try was Jacob Cheung, who in 2014 helmed The White Haired Witch of Lunar Kingdom, a re-make of Ronny Yu’s 1993 classic The Bride with White Hair, which was mostly met with negative reviews.

Now in 2025, for his sophomore feature director Luo Yi Wei decided to take a crack at remaking the very movie that made Lin such an iconic presence in the new wave wuxia genre, with Invincible Swordsman tackling the same story as Swordsman 2. Debuting in 2022 with Swords Drawn, Yi Wei admittedly has a convenient out of any potential comparisons, thanks to the fact the source material is one of wuxia writer Jin Yong’s novels, The Smiling, Proud Wanderer. While it’s almost impossible to count the number of time Yong’s The Condor Heroes has been adapted for the screen, comparatively The Smiling, Proud Wanderer is one of his lesser adapted stories. Apart from the Tsui Hark produced trilogy of the early 1990’s, there’s been a couple of TV adaptations in the 2000’s and that’s it, so the source materials relative scarcity of appearing onscreen make the comparisons to its last big screen adaptation all the more inevitable.

While The White Haired Witch of Lunar Kingdom saw Fan Bingbing step into the role that Brigitte Lin originally played, in Invincible Swordsman the honours go to Kitty Zhang (The Mermaid, Legend of the Demon Cat) who’s tasked with stepping into the shoes (or should that be billowing silk?) of Invincible Asia. In the role of Lunghu Chong (played by Jet Li in Swordsman 2) is Tim Huang (Creation of the Gods I: Kingdom of Storms, Creation of the Gods II: Demon Force), whose biggest problem is his friendship with Xuan Lu (Midnight Hair, Battle: The Insidious). She plays the daughter of a power-hungry clan leader played by Hong Kong mainstay Terence Yin (New Police Story, Special ID), so naturally Huang’s own clan doesn’t approve of their budding relationship, ultimately leading to him bring expelled.

Lucky for him, he’s taken under the wing of a martial arts master who’s been living in seclusion played by Sammo Hung (God of War, The Bodyguard), who trains him up on such awesomely named techniques like the Sword Nourishing stance. While Huang lives in isolation on the (equally awesomely named) Cliff of Contemplation, Zhang defeats Yin and becomes the leader of the Sun Moon Cult, imprisoning him by blocking his vital points, and vowing to take over the martial arts world. When Huang gets wind that his former clan is also in danger from her plans for world dominance, he decides to return to the world of jiang hu, using his new skills to go into battle with members of the cult. It’s in the midst of a fight that he mistakenly believes he saves Zhang, not realising who she is, beginning a doomed love story as the truth is bound to eventually reveal itself.

It goes without saying that Invincible Swordsman is a much more straightforward affair than its last iteration on the big screen. The whole element of how Invincible Asia is actually a man, who after making himself a eunuch has transitioned into a woman, is here not given a mention (despite being more culturally relevant today than it was in the early 90’s!). The only slight reference it gets is in a throwaway scene where Zhang admires the female servants she’s surrounded by, implying a feeling of physical attraction, although in a stark contradiction she then falls for Huang minutes later. There’s also understandably a lack of the political subtext that Tsui Hark is known for, but considering China’s current cinematic climate that’s to be expected. Instead we’re left with a relatively pedestrian re-telling of the source material, one that gets by on the goodwill of seeing the likes of Sammo Hung back in a wuxia production again.

More an extended special appearance than a supporting role, Hung’s main duty is to pass on his martial arts skills to Huang in a CGI rendered clifftop setting, and it’s always a pleasure to see him onscreen. The last time he was in a wuxia you have to go back to 2010’s 14 Blades, but his role here as a white bearded martial arts master is more likely to recall his role in Wong Jing’s 1993 slice of wuxia madness Kung Fu Cult Master (speaking of which, it’s Wong Jing who’s on script and producer duty for Invincible Swordsman). Hung’s always been able to evoke a sense of authority when his performances call for it, something we saw last in the previous year’s Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In, and it’s a joy to see the elder statesman of kung-fu cinema supplant that same authority from a contemporary setting into a wuxia one.

Others fare less well. As the main character Huang is decidedly one note, appearing in every scene like he’s just been told to “smoulder for the camera”, and little else. Sure any wuxia flick requires a degree of posing in a variety of heroic martial arts stances, but when the entire performance feels like posing, it becomes a problem. Similarly Zhang struggles to make the role of Invincible Asia her own, too often feeling like she watched Swordsman 2 on repeat for a few weeks, then attempted to emulate Brigitte Lin’s performance as best she can. Inevitably, the scenes they share together which are intended to carry the most dramatic weight land with a resounding thud, devoid of any chemistry.

Regardless of performance quality though, the one aspect of Invincible Swordsman that nobody can escape from is a painfully pretentious script. Almost as if ChatGPT had been asked to create a script consisting entirely of fortune cookie pondering, lines like “Gain and loss are but two sides of the same coin” and “How long is an inch of justice? How long is an inch of longing?” are commonplace. It kind of feels like there was an unspoken rule that if a character was going to speak, they had to come out with something deeply profound, but the result is one that leads to plenty of eyerolling fairly early on. If anything, it came as a relief when there was a scene involving one of the clans throwing a celebration, and the song they decided to belt out consisted purely of a bunch of men chanting “raa raa raa!” on repeat.

That leaves the action, which sees Wu Yue (Paradox, The Brink) stepping into an action director role for the first time since 2016’s The Adventures of Wei Bao, and he does a serviceable job. Invincible Asia’s threaded needles benefit best from the CGI enhancements, with one particular scene involving a character getting one of them straight through his eyeball, which is then used to pull him forward. The appearance of a trio of villains – named Greed, Anger, and Ignorance – also feels like a call back to the crazed wuxia’s of yesteryear, with the use of a lute and oversized butchers knives providing both variety and energy to the action beats. There’s nothing really on display that hasn’t been seen before though, and there’s a distinct feeling we’re watching the go-to action beats from the ‘Wuxia Wirework for Non-Martial Artists’ playbook, meaning there’s no standout moments to separate Invincible Swordsman from its contemporaries.

As it stands, for his sophomore feature director Luo Yi Wei shows just how far the Chinese web movie industry has come in the last 15 years, as Invincible Swordsman received a theatrical release despite being funded by the likes of iQIYI and Tencent, production companies that once exclusively made movies for streaming. Indeed the budget may be higher, the CGI locations now mixed with actual location shooting, and the runtime much longer, but is Invincible Swordsman likely to stay in the memory any longer than the average 75-minute web movie wuxia? Honestly, probably not.

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 6/10

The post Invincible Swordsman (2025) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“The Double Crossers” Theatrical Poster

Director: Jeong Chang Hwa
Cast: Shin Il-ryong, Chan Sing, Chao Hsiung, Chan Wai-Man, Sammo Hung, Tutie Kirana
Running Time: 90 min. 

By Paul Bramhall

When is a Korean movie not a Korean movie? The answer is when it’s a Hong Kong movie, and with the influx of Korean talent that was active in Hong Kong during the 1970’s, it’s hardly surprising that some of the territories output would come to bear an overtly Korean influence. Cheng Chang-ho was one such director who’d made the jump from Korean shores to Hong Kong in the late 1960’s to work for the Shaw Brothers, having impressed Run Run Shaw with his Korean output. Already a veteran of over 40 productions by the time he helmed his first Shaw Brothers production with 1969’s Temptress of a Thousand Faces, Chang-ho would stay with the studio for the next 3 years, during which time he’d crank out a further 6 titles. His swansong for Shaw Brothers would be 1972’s King Boxer, the movie which would go on to popularise the kung-fu genre in the west under the re-title of Five Fingers of Death.

After his stint at Shaw Brothers Chang-ho moved across to Golden Harvest, a studio that was still trying to find its place in the Hong Kong film industry after the death of its biggest star Bruce Lee in 1973. Chang-ho’s time at Golden Harvest was distinctly different from his output in Hong Kong so far, with his filmography becoming more focused on grounded and gritty crime thrillers, and 1976’s The Double Crossers is a perfect example. Chang-ho made a total of 5 movies while at the studio, with The Double Crossers being his penultimate feature, only going on to helm Broken Oath the following year (his previous titles included 1973’s The Devil’s Treasure, 1974’s The Skyhawk, and 1975’s The Association).

Similar to The Association, Chang-ho once more casts a Korean as his leading man, this time in the form of Shin Il-ryong, for which The Double Crossers marked his debut in a Hong Kong production. Having made his acting debut in 1970’s A Ghost Story of Joseon Dynasty, similar to Chang-ho’s directorial career by the time Il-ryong was cast here he’d already featured in over 40 productions, ranging from romance to action. It was the latter that likely caught Chang-ho’s eye with roles in the likes of 1973’s Wind from the East showing off his physicality. Il-ryong’s time working in Hong Kong would ultimately be fleeting, turning up as the Godfather in the infamous Bruceploitation flick The Dragon Lives Again in 1977, and playing the villain in Jackie Chan’s only attempt at a wuxia during the same year with To Kill with Intrigue (which was notably filmed in Korea). He’d continue to act in Korea though until he’d retire in 1986.

The plot of The Double Crossers is a classic tale of revenge, with Il-ryong playing a cop based in Singapore who’s out to avenge the death of his murdered father. His father has thankfully left him a cassette with possibly the longest recorded message ever to bring both Il-ryong and the audience up to speed on what the deal is, but basically it boils down to this. Il-ryong’s father used to be involved in a smuggling ring but had been out of it for many years, so when one of his old accomplices contacts him for a favour and he refuses, he correctly suspects that his days are up. Learning that the murderer was one of the most feared kingpins in Southeast Asia who’s now residing in Hong Kong, Il-ryong realises he has limited power as a cop, so quits the force and teams up with a smuggler who was loyal to his father back in his criminal days. Together, the pair concoct a plan to take the kingpin down and exact revenge for Il-ryong’s father’s death.

Il-ryong’s partner in crime (excuse the expression) is played by the legendary Chan Sing, who in 1976 would feature in a total of 5 productions, including opposite Jackie Chan in New Fist of Fury and the underseen new wave crime thriller Jumping Ash. While the kingpin himself is played by Chao Hsiung (The Chinese Boxer, The Golden Lion), most of the heavy lifting when it comes to doing the dirty work is conducted by his righthand man, played by Chan Sing’s Jumping Ash co-star Chan Wai-Man (Dragon Lord, Bloody Brotherhood). Considering the cast of heavyweight martial arts talent onboard, it might be surprising to find that, similar to Chang-ho’s The Devil’s Treasure, The Double Crossers is more of a crime thriller than a martial arts movie, so much so that a fight choreographer isn’t listed in the credits or seemingly anywhere online (at least on English language resources).

If I had to guess though, chances are it was Sammo Hung. He’d choreographed all of Chang-ho’s productions at Golden Harvest up to this point, and as was obligatory for this era of the studio, he also turns up in a supporting villain role. Sporting a French beret, John Lennon style round glasses, and a thin handlebar moustache, he looks the epitome of 70’s chic, and unlike in The Shaolin Plot from the same year when he and Chan Sing where on the same side, this time the pair get to briefly throw down against each other. The lack of martial arts action shouldn’t be a turn off though, with the plot of Il-ryong and Sing looking to lure Hsiung and Wai-Man out of the woodwork alternately seeing them in the roles of pursuers and those being pursued, with the table turning keeping the narrative an engaging one.

There is plenty of other action though, some of it that comes across as entertaining purely for its outlandishness, such as when Wai-Man arrives outside an apartment building in his car, and proceeds to break out a missile launcher to blow up an apartment in one of the upper floors. Clearly discretion wasn’t a necessary requirement of criminal activity in early 70’s Hong Kong (and when an elderly couple question him as to what’s going on a few minutes later, he amusingly tells them there’s been a gas leak). There’s also a particularly brutal torture interrogation scene involving a blow torch that definitely isn’t used only as a threat, recalling the kind of uncompromising nature that Korean crime thrillers would become renowned for 30 years later.

My favorite action moment though hardly lasted a second, with a stuntman performing a particularly painful looking fall down a set of wooden stairs. He falls down them with such momentum that he goes airborne mid-way down and clearly lands hard at the bottom, resulting in an unintentional squint from my side. Eventually everyone ends up in Bali, Indonesia, where a large portion of the narrative plays out, making The Double Crossers somewhat of a globetrotting affair. In my review for 1973’s The Ghostly Face I mentioned how I believed it was “the first and only time a martial arts movie has been filmed there”, and while I’m aware I’ve just gone to great lengths to explain that The Double Crossers isn’t a martial arts movie, it still makes me feel like I was at least half wrong.

The change in scenery that the Balinese culture provides is always a welcome one, and we even get a romantic subplot thrown in that sees Il-ryong gradually falling for a lady who works at the hotel they’re staying in, played by Indonesian actress Tutie Kirana (Imperfect, Affliction). Events eventually culminate in Il-ryong and Wai-Man facing off against each other in a way that encompasses cars, motorbikes (look out for the magically appearing helmet), and of course some fists and feet for good measure. Depending on what version you watch, Il-ryong and Sing either end up being ordered back to Hong Kong, or for the more strait-laced countries the production was sold to, getting handcuffed to serve their time.

In case it wasn’t clear already, The Double Crossers is best approached as a crime thriller with a sprinkling of action rather than the other way around, and I enjoyed the more developed characters the narrative offers up versus the more one-dimensional roles we often see the likes of Chan Sing in. There’s a great scene where he riffs on Bruce Lee’s “the art of fighting without fighting” scene from Enter the Dragon which comes across as a nice little character moment, the kind that’s a rarity to find in the more straight up kung-fu cinema genre, and I liked the trait that Chao Hsiung’s kingpin has a weak heart. Not that there’s anything wrong with a straight up kung-fu movie, but if that’s what you’ve come to The Double Crossers for then only disappointment awaits. If you’re in the mood for a funky slice of 70’s Hong Kong grit, then in that case there should be plenty to enjoy.

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 6/10

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“Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In” Theatrical Poster

Director: Soi Cheang Pou So
Cast: Louis Koo Tin-lok, Sammo Hung Kam Bo, Richie Ren Yin Chi, Raymond Lam, Philip Ng Wan-lung, Terrance Lau, Tony Wu, German Cheung, Aaron Kwok
Running Time: 125 min.

By Paul Bramhall 

There’s been a few attempts to bring an adaptation of the manhua comic City of Darkness to the big screen over the years, probably the most well known being the version that was set to star Donnie Yen rumoured to be coming in 2013, and for a while there it seemed like it was never going to happen. Thankfully it did (minus Donnie Yen), arriving on screens more than a decade later in the form of Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In. The later part of the title refers to Kowloon Walled City, a lawless Jenga like block of buildings crammed into 2.6 hectares that was eventually demolished in 1993, and featured in a number of Hong Kong productions during the time it was still standing. From the gritty Shaw Brothers crime thriller Brothers from the Walled City in 1982, to the finale of the Jackie Chan starring Crime Story in 1993 taking place in the already abandoned remains.

While the walled city itself has already been gone for more than 30 years, it’s clear no expense has been spared to bring its sunlit starved alleyways and ramshackle multi-level microcosm of society to life, and its difficult to think of a more fitting director to helm a tale set in such an environment than Soi Cheang. As a director Cheang has always been most at home in the more gutter level tales of crime and violence, with his mid-2000’s double whammy of Dog Bite Dog and Shamo remaining career high points. An invite into the fold of Johnnie To’s Milkyway Image followed, so it was a surprise when in the mid-2010’s he turned his attention to the colourful Monkey King trilogy, which were a world away from the darker recesses many of his movies take place in. Those darker recesses have come back with a vengeance in recent years, with 2021’s Limbo and 2023’s Mad Fate reflecting a director still unwilling to make compromises.

Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In sees Cheang return to the martial arts action genre for the first time since helming SPL II: A Time for Consequences in 2015, and this time Jackie Chan Stunt Team member Nicky Li is swapped out for Donnie Yen protégé Kenji Tanigaki as action choreographer. Tanigaki has come into his own in recent years since handling the action on the 5 Ruroni Kenshin (2012 – 2021) movies in his native Japan, and even made his own directorial debut with the Donnie Yen starring Enter the Fat Dragon in 2020. As a choreographer he’s arguably at the top of his game, and here he’s given one of his broadest canvases to work with in terms of the environment, as well as getting to work with kung-fu cinema legends like Sammo Hung.

The plot of TOTW:WI (as I’ll call it from here on in) is set in the 1980’s and involves a recently arrived in HK refugee from the Mainland played by Raymond Lam (Detective vs. Sleuths, Badges of Fury), who’s been scraping along by making money in illegal fighting tournaments. In the opening his latest beatdown captures the eye of triad leader Sammo Hung (King Swindler, Eastern Condors), who offers to grant Lam his wish of a Hong Kong ID card if he joins their organisation. Lam refuses and ultimately ends up cheated out of his winnings, his retaliation drawing the ire of Hung’s lackeys, led by an almost recognisable under a thick mullet Philip Ng (Undercover Punch and Gun, Birth of the Dragon). Lam ends up on the run and inadvertently stumbles into the maze-like labyrinth of the walled city, overseen by a rival triad in the form of a grey haired and gravelly voiced Louis Koo (Warriors of Future, Paradox).

After receiving a beating for entering their territory unannounced, once it becomes clear Lam’s only intention is to make money Koo and his inner circle take a shine to the unexpected newcomer, allowing Lam to eke out a living for himself within the walled city working various part time jobs. However when it comes to light he may have a connection to a bygone era of the city when it was ravaged by violent turf wars, it only becomes a matter of time before the delicate balance of peace is disrupted, and violence returns with disastrous consequences.

At over 2 hours Cheang allows the narrative plenty of room to breathe, and after a couple of blistering fight scenes within the opening 15 minutes, the first half of TOTW:WI mostly spends its time with Lam adapting to his new environment. It’s a wise narrative decision, allowing the audience to get to know Lam’s character, while becoming familiar with the walled city and its many inhabitants in parallel. The set of the walled city feels like a character in itself, with the cramped alleys, plethora of small businesses, and darkened enclaves creating a fully realised world that feels lived in, and proving that tangible surroundings that can be touched and felt will always trump CGI. Cheang and his team gradually immerse the audience in the walled city to a point that, despite the first half being lite on the action front, it’s possible to forget it’s a production sold on the promise of martial arts beatdowns.

When the action eventually does hit in the gradually escalating latter half there’s little to be disappointed about, although that statement comes with a sizable caveat that the aesthetic very much reflects its manhua origins. While the choreography in the opening scenes goes for a hard-edged approach, with broken glass punched into faces and shoulders dislocated, later on the comic book leanings come more to the fore in a way that felt reminiscent of 2006’s Dragon Tiger Gate, another manhua adaptation. That’s not necessarily a negative, however for those hoping the action would reflect the same gritty style of the surroundings it takes place in, there may be a disconnect. TOTW:WI is far from the second coming of kung-fu cinema that some were hoping for, but anyone expecting that from a Soi Cheang movie was probably in the wrong place to begin with.

What’s undeniable is how much of a pleasure it is to see Sammo Hung back in action, a living legend of kung-fu cinema (and HK cinema in general for that matter), most had willingly accepted 2016’s The Bodyguard as his action swansong, so to see him throwing down again 8 years later is a joy. Yes he’s doubled (he’s 72!), however Tanigaki’s framing of his tussle with Louis Koo disguises it well, and the fact he’s playing the kind of villainous triad role that we haven’t seen him in since the likes of Sha Po Lang and Fatal Move is just the icing on the cake.

If any criticism could be made of TOTW:WI it’s arguably that it’s somewhat overlong, with the actual plot not being introduced until close to halfway through, and it’s one that’s reliant on buying into a massive coincidence (although for those familiar with the source material, this may be a non-issue). Similarly for those who go in blind (referring to people who have trailer allergies like me), Philip Ng’s ascension to villain of the piece doesn’t feel entirely warranted, having spent much of his screentime split between spitting out threats or bursting into fits of laughter. As the close to unbeatable righthand man of the big bad, think Billy Chow in Pedicab Driver or Wu Jing in Sha Po Lang, he’s perfectly cast, however once his role switched up to be the main bad guy the emotional investment to see him get beat wasn’t quite there.

Still, these are minor gripes in what for the most part is an entertaining throwback to the kind of movie Hong Kong was once known for. Throw in supporting roles from the likes of Aaron Kwok (Project Gutenberg, Port of Call) and Richie Ren (Trivisa, Bodies at Rest), and if anything Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In proves that Hong Kong cinema is far from dead. So far Soi Cheang hasn’t put a foot wrong in the 2020’s, and here’s hoping it continues that way.

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 7/10

Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In is coming to UK & Irish cinemas from 24 May from Cine Asia. Later this year, U.S. audiences can expect a release from Well Go USA.

The post Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In (2024) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“When Taekwondo Strikes” Theatrical Poster

Director: Huang Feng
Cast: Jhoon Rhee, Angela Mao, Anne Winston, Kenji Kazuma, Carter Wong, Wang In Sik, Sammo Hung, Andre Morgan, Chin Yuet Sang, Gam Kei Chu, Chan Chuen, Wilson Tong, Billy Chan, Hsu Hsia, Lam Ching Ying
Running Time: 95 min. 

By Paul Bramhall

If there was ever a decade when taekwondo had its chance to shine in Hong Kong action cinema, then it was the 1970’s. Following Bruce Lee’s untimely passing both Golden Harvest boss Raymond Chow and Seasonal Films founder Ng See Yuen frequently sought out taekwondo practitioners to fill the void that Lee left behind with varying degrees of success. However the origins of their fascination with taekwondo arguably started with Bruce Lee himself, who in 1972 convinced Chow to green light a production for his Korean friend Jhoon Rhee, a taekwondo teacher based in the States who would come to be considered the father of taekwondo in America. That production became When Taekwondo Strikes, and sadly Bruce would pass away shortly before the finished product would arrive on Hong Kong cinema screens in September of 1973.

The Little Dragon’s insistence that Rhee could be a legitimate leading martial arts star is certainly an interesting take, since Rhee was already 41 when he’d make his cinematic debut, and after the release of When Taekwondo Strikes he’d only go on to appear in 1 other production (a supporting role in 1981’s The Return of the Great Fighter, which was directed by Miami Connection’s Park Woo-sang). However as his one and only time in the lead, Rhee’s influence is undeniable. He contributed to the story, which unusually for Hong Kong cinema led to tales which focused on Koreans being oppressed by the Japanese becoming just as popular as those which focused on the Chinese being oppressed (although notably it wasn’t the first, with the previous years The Crush covering similar territory).

Rhee also brought along one of his students from America to take on a prominent supporting role in the form of Ann Winton, heralding one of the few times in the kung-fu genre when a gweilo has been cast as one of the good guys, versus the standard villain roles that were usually reserved for foreigners. The fact that Winton was female only shows how ahead of his time Rhee was in his championing of martial arts talent in front of the camera, pre-dating the era of Cynthia Rothrock, Sophie Crawford, and Kim Maree Penn by over a decade.

The production itself though is firmly steeped in the early 70’s Golden Harvest style, with the studio bringing in their leading lady Angela Mao in what’s effectively a co-lead role (some may argue she even is the lead), and their up-and-coming leading man Carter Wong in a significant supporting role. Mao and Wong would frequently appear onscreen together in their early outings (see also Hapkido, Back Alley Princess, The Opium Trail, and The Tournament), so it’s understandable that Raymond Chow didn’t want to take a gamble on placing the whole of When Taekwondo Strikes’ success on Rhee’s shoulders. Chow also went with the safe option by placing Wong Fung in the directors chair, an actor turned director who worked almost exclusively with Golden Harvest and Angela Mao throughout the 70’s, debuting with 1971’s The Angry River and retiring after 1978’s The Legendary Strike.

It would prove to be a wise choice to bring onboard such established talent both in front and behind the camera, because as much as Bruce Lee may have wanted it to be the Jhoon Rhee show (in the days leading up to his death he was still pushing for Rhee to be billed as the top star!), the fact is he’s not exactly leading man material. Rhee’s life is filled with an impressive list of achievements, however being a thespian definitely isn’t one of them, with his receding hairline and wooden performance often making his screen time somewhat painful viewing. The fact that he’s the only cast member who insists on finding an excuse to go shirtless at any given opportunity doesn’t help, and this is in a movie where the Japanese villains garb involves plenty of underwear flashing.

In another example of When Taekwondo Strikes being ahead of its time, Rhee’s physical performance also serves as an example of martial arts mastery offscreen not necessarily translating to having a screen fighting pedigree onscreen (a trope which became particularly prominent 20 years later, when real life kickboxing champions would come to dominate the DTV action market). The action choreography is handled by Sammo Hung (who like in so many 70’s Golden Harvest productions, also turns up as a villain) and Shaw Brothers stalwart Chan Chuen, who also worked together on the action for the previous years The Devil’s Treasure and End of the Wicked Tigers. For a taekwondo showcase Rhee doesn’t really impress, although this could well be because the era in which he studied during the 40’s and 50’s was when the style was still much closer to karate, rather than the kick-heavy style it’d take on during the 80’s. 

It’s Angela Mao who fares the strongest on the action front, who at this point was working under the action choreography of Sammo Hung for the 5^th time, and had studied Hapkido under both Hwang In-shik and Ji Han-jae. Mao displays her usual ferocity in the fight scenes, which at this point where in that transitionary phase somewhere between the punch and block nature of bashers, and the more intricate choreography that’d come later in the decade. She gets a pair of lengthy one on ones against Chin Yuet-Sang (Lion Vs Lion, Hocus Pocus) and Sammo Hung, and in the finale goes up against Hwang In-shik (The Skyhawk, Stoner). In one of the productions more unintentionally funny moments, once the shackled Rhee breaks free during the finale, he gives Mao a light flying kick to knock her out of the way during her fight with In-shik, announcing that things should be settled Korean versus Korean. Well, at least he wasn’t being sexist!

It would also be a crime not to mention Ann Winton, who gets a handful of scenes to show off her moves, and looking impressively sharp for the era When Taekwondo Strikes was made. Likely a combination of her height, and having a background in ballet as well as taekwondo (Michelle Yeoh, Moon Lee, and Cynthia Khan also came from dance backgrounds, so it’s clearly beneficial for screen fighting), it’s a shame she’d only go on to appear in one other production (the Bruceploitation movie Super Dragon the following year) as she clearly had potential. Tragically her life would be cut short in 1982 when she was murdered by her husband.

Despite the varied quality of the action, one aspect of When Taekwondo Strikes that’s inescapable is the overall tone. Made at a time when Golden Harvest seemed to favour incorporating their kung-fu into narratives which tended to be quite dramatic and straight faced, there’s an overwhelming feeling that the story is taking itself a little too seriously. What’s worse is that many of the more dramatic moments are placed on Rhee to pull off, and watching his attempts to emote aren’t exactly convincing to say the least, with a narrative that attempts to somewhat awkwardly combine fighting for Korean independence with a devoutly Christian message of peace. Is When Taekwondo Strikes a Christian kung-fu movie? Arguably yes, although the establishment of taekwondo in the States is inextricably linked to the Korean Christian cult of the Unification Church, so that’s perhaps not a surprise (and is worth a whole separate feature!).

For those who are fans of the early 70’s Golden Harvest style then there’ll undoubtably be something to enjoy in When Taekwondo Strikes, although looking at the production which it has most in common with, 1972’s Hapkido, it’s hard not to agree that the earlier effort is the superior movie. Still, for any fan of kung-fu cinema the chance to see Jhoon Rhee and Ann Winton in their most significant roles, backed up by the likes of Angela Mao, Carter Wong, Sammo Hung, Hwang In-shik, and Ken Kazama (Karate from Shaolin Temple, The Street Fighter), is one that shouldn’t be missed. Will you likely watch it again? Probably not, but without When Taekwondo Strikes, we may never have gotten the likes of The Secret Rivals and Tiger of Northland later in the decade, and for that it’s an important piece of kung-fu cinema history.

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 5.5/10

The post When Taekwondo Strikes | aka Sting of the Dragon Masters (1973) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“My Flying Wife” Theatrical Poster

Director: O Sing Pui
Cast: Sammo Hung Kam Bo, Tommy Wong Kwong Leung, Fennie Yuen, Yu Li, Roy Cheung, Shing Fui On, Terrence Fok, James Ha, Frankie Ng, William Ho Ka Kui
Running Time: 90 min. 

By Henry McKeand

The legacy of Sammo Hung’s work with Jackie Chan is so massive that it’s easy to forget what a diverse filmography he has. In a sense, there are many Sammos. You have the rotund-yet-nimble martial artist who backed up Jackie in the classic Golden Harvest kung fu comedies. Then you have Sammo as an American Television star (Martial Law), Sammo as Rambo (Eastern Condors), Sammo as a stoic elder statesman (SPL and Ip Man 2), Sammo as a dramatic leading man (Painted Faces), and Sammo as one of the most in-demand fight choreographers in the world (pretty much every other martial arts movie you’ve ever seen). 

Interestingly, there’s one Sammo that hasn’t seen much popularity in the West. I’m talking of course about Sammo Hung, horror comedy innovator. His work on movies like Encounters of the Spooky Kind revolutionized not only the Chinese vampire, but the very concept of a funny monster flick. His forays into horror-tinged material were wildly successful in Hong Kong, spawning franchises like the Mr. Vampire series, but they’ve mostly been regarded as cult curiosities overseas. 

So, it should be no surprise that one of the only ways to watch My Flying Wife, a Sammo-starring ghost romp from ’91, is a mid-quality YouTube rip with barely understandable English subtitles. I mention this because it’s likely impossible to see the film as it was intended: in a packed Hong Kong theater full of fans who could have fully understood its comedic subtleties. But despite a good chunk of the jokes being lost in translation, My Flying Wife offers up a sizable portion of HK horror inventiveness. 

The film, directed by O Sing-Pui, melds a contemporary world of low-level Triads with a zany story of possession and reincarnation. Sammo is in his comfortable “anxious goofball” mode as Qu, a Triad leader idolized by his mostly benevolent crew of young upstarts. A down-on-her-luck woman named Helen (Fennie Yuen) him money, and so he sends an underling, Chung (Shui-Wah Fok), to collect the debt without realizing that Helen’s getting ready to jump to her death. 

Little does anyone know, a group of shady ghosts are planning on collecting Helen’s soul after she dies so that a scornful spirit named Siu-Hung (Li Yu) can be reincarnated. But when Chung and the triads end up foiling Helen’s suicide plan, they find themselves at odds with afterlife villains. To fight back, they enlist the help of a blind friend named Fatt (Tommy Wong) who is supposedly skilled in paranormal matters. This is even before they realize that Siu-Hung has a past-life connection to Sammo’s Qu. Before long, Chung is falling in love with Helen as Qu explores his connection with Siu-Hung.

Okay, so maybe it’s too inventive. At only 90 minutes, it’s packed full of characters and gags, and not all of them work. It eventually settles into a groove, but the setup is jumbled. This is to say nothing of the tonal whiplash in its first half, which was common in Hong Kong comedies of the time. It’s a rare film that can effectively combine forbidden love affairs, cute ghost kids, a wacky blind mystic, forced prostitution, Triad bickering, and Sammo Hung using a wet mop to cosplay as a God. My Flying Wife may not be that rare film, but it comes a lot closer than you might think. 

Fans of this subgenre know that narrative specifics aren’t what matter, and O Sing-Pui rightfully puts his focus on madcap comic scenes that highlight Sammo’s charm and physicality. No matter how over-the-top the paranormal story becomes, Sammo’s comic timing and nice guy lovability are what sell the action. He gets some serious help from Tommy Wong, whose commitment to silliness leads to most of the laugh-out-loud scenes.

Even compared to other similar films in the “spooky comedy” subgenre, My Flying Wife is a disarmingly good-natured film, which is surprising considering its irreverent (and even offensive) tone. At the end of the day, it’s a rom com more than anything, and its parallel love stories are more important than any of the supposed scares.

These “scares” amount to little more than comic-relief ghosts wearing pancake makeup, and it’s hard to shake the feeling that this is a kids’ movie with a raunchy exterior. But the shortcomings are easily forgotten when Sammo gets a chance to show off his kung fu or mug at the camera when something crazy happens. As always, he’s a pleasure to watch, which makes My Flying Wife an easy recommendation for Sammo diehards…even if it’s hard to find a decent version of it. 

Henry McKeand’s Rating: 6.5/10

The post My Flying Wife (1991) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“Skyhawk” DVD Cover

Director: Jeong Chang Hwa
Cast: Kwan Tak Hing, Carter Wong, Wang In Sik, Sammo Hung, Nora Miao, Chiu Hung, Lily Chen Ching, Lee Kwan, Gam Kei Chu, Shut-Ma Wa Lung, Kim Ki-ju
Running Time: 88 min.

By Paul Bramhall

The Skyhawk is the kind of movie which opens up with kung fu legends Kwan Tak-Hing, Sammo Hung, and Carter Wong strolling down a countryside path together, an image which close to 50 years later is one which indelibly captures a moment in time which can never be re-created. It’s not long before we witness the equally iconic Korean hapkido master Whang In-shik unleash a flurry of devastating kicks, and all of this is crammed into the initial minutes before the opening credits have even appeared onscreen.

As the 2nd production that Korean director Cheng Chang-ho would helm for Golden Harvest, having come off a hot streak with Shaw Brothers that saw him in the directors chair for classics like Six Assassins and the landmark King Boxer, The Skyhawk bears all the distinctive marks of a mid-70’s GH kung fu flick. This era of the studios output had plenty of recognisable traits – from sounds effects for punches and kicks (and falls for that matter!) that sound like someone knocking on a wooden box, to the focus on Korean martial arts like hapkido and taekwondo that was kicked off (no pun intended) with 1972’s Hapkido. 

Chang-ho would maintain a much closer Korean connection for the productions he worked on for Golden Harvest compared to his work at Shaw Brothers, with his first 3 titles (the 1973 thriller The Devil’s Treasure, The Skyhawk, and 1975 oddity The Association) being co-productions with Korean studios. Whang In-shik would be a regular in almost all of his GH work, and for The Association and The Double Crossers he would cast Koreans as the lead. In The Skyhawk In-shik is on villain duty, playing a character that feels very much like a prototype for the villainous role he’d play in The Young Master 6 years later.

The real selling point of The Skyhawk is the return of Kwan Tak-Hing as the titular character Wong Fei-Hung (or Wong Skyhawk as he’s frequently referred to, which I assume to be a direct translation). Tak-Hing first played Wong Fei-Hung in 1949’s The Strong of Wong Fei-Hung – Part 1, and would go onto play the character over 70 times. Rarely a year would go by without Tak-Hing appearing in another instalment of WFH adventures (in 1956 alone he’d star in 25 WFH movies!), until in 1961 it looked like he was going to hang up his no shadow boots with How Wong Fei-Hung Smashed the Five Tigers. It didn’t last though, and 6 years later he returned to the role with a vengeance, kicking off with 1967’s Wong Fei-Hung Against the Ruffians. After cranking out 11 more WFH adventures in just 4 years, at the age of 65 retirement finally seemed on the card for Tak-Hing with 1970’s Wong Fei-Hung: Bravely Crushing the Fire Formation.

Like a Frank Sinatra farewell tour though, 4 years later and now almost 70, he’d return for The Skyhawk. What’s perhaps most interesting is that it didn’t turn out to be a one-off return, and he’d go onto reprise the character in 1979’s The Magnificent Butcher, 1980’s The Magnificent Kick, and 1981’s Dreadnaught. Compared to his final trilogy of appearances though, in which he plays a more authoritative figure suited to his age, The Skyhawk can be considered to be the last movie in which he was still front and centre when it came to the action. Here we meet WFH on holiday in Thailand who’s visiting an old friend that runs a factory. A Thailand setting. A factory. Golden Harvest. The Mid-70’s. Yes, you guessed it, The Skyhawk could just as well be called Wong Fei Hung channels The Big Boss.

Naturally there’s shenanigans going on in the factory, with the villainous Chao Hsiung (The Iron Fisted Monk, Broken Oath) looking to lure the workers for his own nefarious schemes involving opium. He hires Whang In-shik and his lackeys to put on the pressure, but little did he count on Hak-Ting and his faithful disciple Sammo Hung being around. Oh, and of course Carter Wong. When we meet Wong in the beginning he’s looking to escape from In-shik, and when they finally catch up In-shik menacingly asks him “Why did you run away?”. It’s a question we never get an answer to as the audience, which would have helped to establish Wong’s character a little more, but either way after a beating from the hapkido master he ends up being taken in by Hak-Ting and his friend.

This turns out to not be such a bad deal for Wong, as Nora Miao also lives under the same roof, in what amounts to little more than a flower vase role. Apart from flirtatiously making eye contact with the recovering mystery man over the dinner table, and turning up in relevant scenes to show expressions of concern (oh, and at one point giving Tak-Hing a massage, lucky guy!), Miao is left with little to do other than be present. Still, her presence further adds to the feel of The Skyhawk being another attempt to recreate the success of Bruce Lee rather than a revival of the long-running Wong Fei-Hung series. The grindhouse vibe is present and accounted for with typical mid-70’s Golden Harvest grittiness, like a James Bond-esque sequence where a factory worker is tied to a tree trunk, and placed on the conveyor belt heading towards a whirring saw that threatens to slice them in half.

Like many Golden Harvest productions made in that wilderness period between Bruce Lee’s passing, and Sammo Hung and co. taking fight choreography to the next level towards the end of the 70’s, The Skyhawk ultimately feels like a rather middling affair. Kwan Tak-Hing was in the twilight of his career, while the likes of Sammo Hung had still yet to reach his full potential in terms of both choreography style and his onscreen persona. That’s not to say that the action is a write off, which Hung receives sole credit for, far from it, and it’s easy to feel that Whang In-shik probably also contributed some ideas as well. In-shik’s kicks here look deadly, and whenever he springs into action the fluidity of his movements belies the 1974 production, when the punch and block choreography style was still largely predominant. 

Hung himself shows some blink and you’ll miss it flashes of the type of speed we’d become accustomed to in the 80’s, particularly in a brief sparring match against Tak-Hing, offering up a glimpse of what was to come. There are several fights scattered throughout, many involving In-shik’s lackeys that include Korean kung fu flick luminary Kim Ki-ju (Golden Dragon, Silver Snake, Dragon, the Young Master), however there are no real standouts. The fact that one fight briefly pits Sammo Hung against Whang In-shik and falls into the same category almost feels like it should be a criminalised. The skirmish could still be considered a highlight though in the context of comparing it to the finale, which goes for a 1 on 1 double pitting a pole wielding Kwan Tak-Hing against In-shik, and Carter Wong squaring off against Chao Hsiung. 

The thought that an almost 70 year old Tak-Hing could defeat a guy like In-shik in his prime was always going to be a tough sell, and the editing tries to prime us for this by showing how powerful Tak-Hing is before he gets to the main event. Taking on a group on In-shik’s lackeys, his pole amusingly sends them flying through the air in exaggerated slow motion in a movie that up until this point hasn’t had any, but it’s still not enough to suspend disbelief. Even more jarring is that the temple ruins that the fight takes place in in Thailand were too hot for Tak-Hing, so instead they constructed an indoor set in Hong Kong that attempted to replicate the setting. The end result is Carter Wong and Chao Hsiung fighting in the actual temple in Thailand against a clear blue sky, juxtaposed with constant cutaways to Tak-Hing and In-shik fighting in what’s clearly an indoor set, but we’re supposed to believe everyone is in the same place.

Despite being a comeback vehicle for one of Hong Kong cinema’s most enduring characters and the actor who played him, joining forces with some of the brightest talents of the era, The Skyhawk somehow fails to be an entertaining time at the movies. Perhaps because it feels like it’s trying to re-capture the look and feel that the producers probably thought made the likes of Bruce Lee’s Big Boss a success, not realising it was Lee’s presence that made that movie work rather than the pedestrian plot or exotic setting. As a result, much of it feels like going through the motions, and that spark which makes kung fu movies endlessly rewatchable regardless of their shortcomings is here sadly missing in action.

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 5/10

The post Skyhawk, The (1974) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“King Swindler” Theatrical Poster

Director: Chu Yen Ping
Cast: Sammo Hung Kam-Bo, Sandra Ng Kwun-Yu, Tuo Tsung-Hua, Liu Chun, Hiu Hiu, Billy Gilman, Lau Kei, Tu Fu-Ping, Chien Te-Men, Tsai Chia-Hung, Lin Hsieh-Wen
Running Time: 96 min.

By Paul Bramhall

It’s common knowledge that back in the 1980’s Jimmy Wang Yu stepped in to straighten up some trouble Jackie Chan was having with the Triads, and to repay the One Armed Boxer for his mediation, Chan would feature alongside Wang Yu in 2 Taiwanese movies helmed by Chu Yen-Ping. A veteran director who helmed close to 90 productions in a career spanning over 35 years, Yen-Ping is perhaps best described as a less talented version of Wong Jing. Common themes of his movies include an abundance of toilet humour, nonsensical plotting, and juvenile comedic antics, a perfect example of which can be seen in 1983’s Fantasy Mission Force, which was one of the movies Chan agreed to appear in to repay Wang Yu. 

One of the great unanswered questions in life is likely to remain exactly who it was Sammo Hung was indebted to when he also showed up in one Yen-Ping’s movies in 1993, headlining King Swindler. I mean even when Yuen Biao was reduced to starring in cheaply made HK-Filipino co-productions shot in Manila, he never lowered himself to starring in a flick helmed by Yen-Ping. However here he is, made in the same year the portly kicker would also feature in the likes of Kung Fu Cult Master (ironically directed by Wong Jing), King Hu’s Painted Skin, and Blade of Fury (which he’d also direct), there can be no doubt that King Swindler is somewhat of an anomaly in his filmography.

As can probably be derived from the title, Sammo plays a swindler who enjoys a heady mix of cigarettes, alcohol, and gambling. He used to be an up and coming boxer just a few years ago (humorously named the Oriental Condor), but since he wife left him to be a single father to their mischievous son, the pair now get by through cheating on card games to bring in the cash. After one of his frequent bar brawls, Sammo finds himself arrested for illegal gambling by undercover cop Sandra Ng (Thunder Cops 2, All’s Well End’s Well) and has to spend a week in jail, and through completely unconvincing circumstances she agrees to look after his son until his release. This all happens in the opening scene, which sets things up for the horror that’s to come.

For the next 30 minutes, King Swindler becomes a kid’s movie, as Sammo’s son (who’s probably around 8) becomes fast friends with Sandra Ng’s 2-year-old son, and hijinks ensue. I have to say, this ranks as probably one of the most unbearable half hours of my life. The kid playing Sammo’s son has a crush on a girl in the local school, and we’re treated to a truly bizarre romantic montage of the girl performing ballet in slow motion soft focus while he looks on. I get that the scene is supposed to be from the perspective of Sammo’s son, but still, seeing a girl who’s probably also 8 be the focus of romantic lensing left me feeling distinctly uncomfortable. In another scene he and the 2 year old pretend to get married (don’t ask), and there’s some Home Alone-esque shenanigans, with the 2 year old setting up all kinds of traps around the house to bother the live-in housemaid (or “servant”, as she’s referred to in the subtitles!). 

Essentially these scenes play out like a series of vignettes, and by the time it got to one which has the trio sat in the bathroom taking a communal number 2, I was ready to clock out. Thankfully, it was around that same moment when Sammo gets out, which somehow managed to make the remaining hour the equivalent of water torture. It still wasn’t pleasant, but just about bearable. The highlight for many in King Swindler will be the sequence which involves Sammo returning to a bar to gamble straight after his release, in which he’s accused of cheating, and proceeds to bust out some drunken boxing (a year before Jackie Chan would revisit the same style in Drunken Master II!). It’s a great scene, and apart from the chance to see the Fat Dragon partake in a style he rarely utilises, it also features plenty of the classic Taiwanese high impact stunt falls. That is to say, any glass and props in the vicinity don’t remain intact.

While the pairing of two performers as good at comedy as Sammo and Sandra Ng should have been gold, the juvenile nature of the antics leave little opportunity for them to shine. Ng in particular is left mostly rehashing her comedic persona from her earlier HK work. With that being said, amongst the fart jokes, snot eating, and being covered in pee, there are some mild diversions. The opening credits humorously riff on Ann Bridgewater’s dance that kicked off Ringo Lam’s Full Contact the year prior, before the silhouette is revealed to be Ng and she gets doused with a bucket of water. These brief moments that work though mainly serve as momentary respite, and it’s never too long before another incessant series of events come along to assault the viewer.

At its worst, Ng goes undercover in a bar (again) as a Bunny Girl waitress, in order to arrest a violent gangster who has a unique condition – if he sees a circle he becomes a raging psychopath, and the only thing that can calm him down is the sight of a triangle. If it sounds stupid in writing, nothing can quite prepare you for how stupid (and overlong) the scene plays out onscreen. At one point 3 characters have to lay down on the floor to make the shape of a triangle and capture his attention. I’ll just leave it at that, as I can feel my anger levels rising just recalling the scene. 

With Sammo out of jail proceedings don’t become any more coherent, distinctly feeling like the plot was being made up as they went along. Sammo decides to go straight and embarks on a Rocky-esque run around the neighbourhood (minus all the extras), which leads to him hitting up the boxing gym once more. This at least allows for a brief sparring match in the ring, although the only thing it really achieves is to provide a reminder of how superior similar sequences are in Paper Marriage from 5 years prior. It’s enough to get him a promotor though, played by Tuo Tsung-Hua (Zodiac Killers, Butterfly and Sword), who gets his own bizarre sub-plot of having an affair with the wife of the gangster running the underground fight circuit he recruits for. Suddenly the whole kids’ movie vibe is thrown out of the window, and at one point he’s brutally beaten up in the street by the gangster’s lackeys. What happened to the fart jokes!?

The setup allows for Sammo to at least get more screen fighting time, taking part in a trio of 1 on 1 matches in a disused steel mill. Notably he’s not on fight choreography duty here, with those honours going to Lin Wan-Chang. A solid choreographer who worked exclusively in Taiwan, Wan-Chang was responsible for the action in underrated flicks like A Book of Heroes and The Death Games, and his style compliments Sammo well in the couple of multiple opponent bar fights that take place in the first half of King Swindler. The underground fights, in comparison, are surprisingly average. Mostly consisting of punch and block techniques, with Sammo throwing in his occasional trademark back kick, there’s nothing memorable about any of them, which is painful to write about a fight involving one of my favorite HK talents.

What’s worse is that the 3-round final fight is interspersed with scenes of the 2 kids, who’ve been kidnapped in the hope that Sammo will throw the fight and lose. The Home Alone influence rears its head again here, with mouse traps and floors covered in glue all leading to prat falls aplenty from their captors. The funniest thing about these scenes, is that we never actually get to see how the kids escape, the scene just kind of cuts off and the next time we see them they’re reunited with Sammo and Sandra Ng again. To be honest, I’m ok with this, since having to witness exactly how they escaped would only have extended the runtime more.

In short, King Swindler is an insufferable mess of a movie, existing purely to punish those of us out there who like to say, “I’d watch anything with Sammo in it.” One of those movies that proves it doesn’t matter how much talent you have in front of the camera, if all the ‘talent’ behind it wants to do is create 90 minutes of unfunny toilet humor, after a few minutes things are going to stink. As the expression goes, you can’t polish a turd, and King Swindler is a big one.

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 3/10

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3VQHS3ftQV4

The post King Swindler (1993) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“Lady Whirlwind” Theatrical Poster

Director: Huang Feng
Producer: Raymond Chow
Cast: Chang Yi, Angela Mao Ying, Pai Ying, Oh Kyung-Ah, Liu Ah-Na, Chin Yuet-Sang, Sammo Hung Kam-Bo, Huang Feng, June Wu Ching Erh, Chin Nan Yi
Running Time: 84 min.

By Ian Whittle

Golden Harvest’s early years were devoted soley to martial arts films, and keeping up with their main rival, the Shaw Brothers. After a year of wu xia swordplay, 1971 saw Golden Harvest strike it lucky with the Bruce Lee/Lo Wei blockbuster The Big Boss, which beat Shaw’s similary Thailand set contemporary action flick Duel of Fists into submission.

Alongside the swordplay films, Shaws had started to branch out into what fans call “basher” flicks, focusing on empty-handed “Chinese boxing”, set either in the present day or an earlier circa 1920s era. Besides resulting in Golden Harvest’s 1972 collosus Fist of Fury (again Bruce Lee and Lo Wei), their satellite producer/director Huang Feng branched out into the sub-genre, with choreographer Sammo Hung and, in marked contrast to the new male-oriented box office domination of Chang Cheh, Jimmy Wang Yu and Bruce Lee; a female leading lady, Angela Mao Ying.

Having said that, Mao is not top-billed in this, and the Chinese title translates to “Iron Palm Whirlwind Leg”. Lady Whirlwind is actually primarily about Ling Shi-Hao (Chang Yi) and his feud with a gang led by Japanese villian Tung Ku (Pai Ying), a conflict marvellously summed up in the English dub’s hilarious opening lines:

Tung Ku: “Ling Shi-Hao, there’s no escape. You’re a dead duck!”
Ling Shi-Hao: “You dirty lowdown Japanese!”

However, Ling is also marked for death by the mysterious Tien Li-Chun (Angela Mao), who wants revenge for him abandoning her sister to suicide. She will, however, permit him to defeat Tung Ku first. Which isn’t easy, but then Ling rescues an old Korean man from a snake bite, and is taught a new Tai Chi style…

Lady Whirlwind is a interesting example of a kung fu film where the fighting is probably the weakest aspect. The atmosphere is very effective, with the whole film having a desolate Western feel to it that I find very appealing (it wouldn’t surprise me if the plot came from a Western too). And the canned music (John Barry’s fresh from the record-shop Diamonds Are Forever score turns up a lot) works well.

Chang Yi’s leading man roles were never as engaging as his later cackling villains, and for all his efforts here, he is one of the least interesting performers/characters. Mao, effectively playing a male character as Kim Newman once remarked in his excellent book Nightmare Movies, is a striking prescence and you can see why she caught on in the Western markets even more than in Hong Kong. The film also finds room for two other distinctive female characters: Oh Kyoung-Ah as Ling’s new love interest, and Liu Ah-Na as a marvellous “Dragon Lady” style whip-wielding chain-smoking villianess Tiao. Sammo Hung is a frequent punching bag for the rest of the cast, and Chin Yuet-Sang looks patently absurd pretending to be Japanese ronin Wen Tien: all exaggerated bowing and awkwardly fitting top-not.

Incidentally, this film contains one of my all time favourite bad dubbing exchanges

Tiao: “Go to the inn, you’re welcome to any of my birds.”
Wen Tien: “B..i..r..d…what is a…bird?”
Tung Ku: “Ha ha! It’s a woman, you dumb ass.”
Wen Tien: “Wooo…mannn…Ha Ha! I love em! I’ll take two of them! I’ll take two of them!!!”
Tung Ku: “Sure, sure, sure, sure…I’ll take you there myself!”
Tiao: “You what? The hell you will!”

The fights are many, but rather dated, even by the standards of what Hung turned out in the same year’s Hapkido. By that point, most of the Golden Harvest players had been for a crash course in Hapkido under Grandmaster Ji Han-Jae, and the difference is striking. Lady Whirlwind features a lot of Austin Powerish “Judo Chops!” with the extras milling around wondering where their swords are gone. Awkward trampoline jumps, reverse acrobatics… it’s all very stagey, but charming in itself.

Lady Whirlwind caught the wave of interest in kung fu in the USA, becoming a big hit under the not-to-be-confused-with-any-pornos title Deep Thrust. And it was caught for review by a young critic named Joe Dante.

Hmm, one day a man is reviewing an Angela Mao movie, the next he’s a blockbuster film director. There’s hope for me yet!

I liked it more than Joe did, though

Ian Whittle’s Rating: 8/10

The post Lady Whirlwind | aka Deep Thrust (1972) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“Eastern Condors” Japanese DVD Cover

AKA: Condors Commando
Director: Sammo Hung
Cast: Yuen Biao, Sammo Hung, Lam Ching-Ying, Dr. Haing S. Ngor, Joyce Godenzi, Yuen Wah, Yuen Wo-Ping, Yasuaki Kurata, Phillip Ko Fei, Billy Lau, James Tien, Ng Hon, Ha Chi-Chun, Billy Chow, Corey Yuen
Running Time: 100 min.

By  Z Ravas

If you only know Sammo from his usual happy-go-lucky characters in old-school kung fu flicks like Knockabout, Eastern Condors might serve as a rude awakening. This is a brutally violent action movie set in Vietnam for which Sammo got serious, slimmed down, and cut his hair. There’s even a scene where Sammo puts Stallone in First Blood II to shame, screaming as he mows down dozens of Vietcong with a gatling gun. For some viewers the Vietnam setting or extreme bloodletting might prove distasteful. For my money, Eastern Condors is one of Sammo’s finest accomplishments as an actor, martial artist, and director.

The plot is time-tested; it’s basically a riff on The Dirty Dozen with a bunch of Chinese-American prisoners being drafted on a suicide mission into the heart of Vietnam during the war. Their Lieutenant is Mr. Vampire himself, Ching-Ying Lam, so you really couldn’t ask for a better man to lead you into battle. The rest of the crew is filled out by incredibly famous faces, including master choreographers Yuen Woo-Ping and Cory Yuen. Sammo’s future wife, the lovely Joyce Godenzi (She Shoots Straight), is on hand and kicks serious ass in the film despite having no martial arts training. Of course, this is a Sammo movie so Yuen Biao is along for the ride and his character “Rat” is probably the only one who manages to keep his rambunctious attitude even after the bullets start flying.

Eastern Condors is almost nonstop action but most of it is intense gun battles. The finale takes place in an underground base and is full of martial arts fighting, i.e. probably what you’re waiting to see. The production design team really outdid themselves here with a set that looks right out of a James Bond film and is the perfect locale for some epic brawls. Yuen Biao fights Dick Wei (Carry On Pickpocket) while Sammo takes on Billy Chow (Fist of Legend) until the two of them must pool their efforts against the ultra-tough Wah Yuen (Kung Fu Hustle).

Special mention must be made of Wah Yuen, who handily steals the last twenty minutes of the movie with his giggling, perspiring Vietnamese General. I don’t know who dreamed up this character but I love it when quirky villains are unexpected badasses, and Wah Yuen gives both Sammo and Yuen a run for their money with his fierce kicks. Wah Yuen has starred in over a 100 movies during his career but this will always be one of his most memorable roles for me.

There’s no way to mince words: Eastern Condors is a violent as hell movie – we’re talking about little Vietcong kids playing Russian Roulette, hands being chopped off, point blank shootings – which may put off fans who just want to see another Sammo and Yuen Biao team-up. However, I think that this film’s gritty edge is what makes it stand out from the rest of Sammo’s filmography. Cory Yuen’s character tells Sammo he respects him because he “doesn’t talk bullshit” – which, let’s face it, is the opposite of most of Sammo’s characters over the years, heh.

Sammo played it straight for this movie (he looks great without his usual bowl cut) and the film benefited by being a lean and mean little action flick. Sure, I wish there was more character development since there’s reportedly over 20 minutes of lost footage. The opening of the movie depicts freeze frames of some prison scenes that were cut and supposedly the Hong Kong trailer also features a lot of missing clips. But with a cast of this caliber and action so plentiful, I will take as much Eastern Condors I can get.

Z Ravas’ Rating: 9/10

The post Eastern Condors (1987) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“License to Steal” Chinese Theatrical Poster

Director: Billy Chan
Writer: Johnny Lee
Cast: Joyce Godenzi, Collin Chou Siu Long, Richard Ng, Yuen Biao, Agnes Aurelio, Lam Chung, Billy Chow, Chui Jing Yat, Michael Dinga, Corey Yuen, Sammo Hung
Running Time: 90 min.

By Martin Sandison

One of the most rare Hong Kong movies ever made, License to Steal was given a Laserdisc release back in the day, but never made it on VCD or DVD, even in Hong Kong. I managed to get my hands on a copy converted to DVD some years ago, and relished revisiting it for this review. What’s so ironic about this movie is in a simple stunt at the end of the film a stuntman lost his life, one of the only times in Hong Kong film history – and you can’t even own the film! It’s a shame, because this is classic early 90’s fare, enlivened by superb fight scenes and that anything-goes energy.

Hung (Joyce Godenzi, She Shoots Straight), Hsiao Yen (Alvina Kong, Forbidden City Cop) and Ngan (Agnes Aurelio, She Shoots Straight) are professional thieves whose lives are fraught with danger, but they love living on the edge. When Ngan goes against them and their master, leaving the other two for dead, so begins a deadly game of cat and mouse. Swordsman (Yuen Baio, Knockabout) pops up to help the duo and two cops (Richard Ng, Winners and Sinners, and Collin Chou, Red Wolf) get involved as the plot descends in to OTT silliness.

Interestingly, License to Steal is directed by Billy Chan Lung, whose brother Peter Chan has a cameo. The latter is known for his acting roles in classics such as Prodigal Son and Odd Couple, and was on the receiving end of Bruce Lee’s first explosive kicks in The Big Boss. Billy Chan was also a veteran stuntman and Assistant Action director for such luminaries as Sammo Hung. He directs with a sure hand, and has a knack for characters introductory scenes: Both Yuen Baio and Richard Ng’s are masterclasses of framing and atmosphere. The lighting and compositions are of a high standard throughout the film, especially the action and burglary scenes. It’s a bit odd that Billy Chan didn’t really break through as a director for major productions, seeing as his ability is evident.

Yuen’s character seems to be an extension of the one he played in Dragons Forever, with not as much screen time. His character is from Mainland China, which lends a bit of depth to what otherwise is a very one-dimensional film. There seems to me to be a commentary on the idea of a Mainlander lost in Hong Kong being a country bumpkin, but depicted as a morally upstanding man with great kung fu skills; at once a criticism and a compliment. That his name is Swordsman is no joke, with his old school values like a Wuxia character. Seeing as at the time Hong Kong movies were wildly popular in the Mainland, it keeps both the local and Northern markets happy.

Now to the action: The opening Kendo fight and the end one-on-one between Godenzi and Aurelio are so beautifully crafted that, I’m just gonna say it, they top the face-off between the two in She Shoots Straight. Perhaps that film is better overall than License to Steal, but the action in this movie is top class all the way. Both Godenzi and Aurelio have never looked better, which is interesting as the action director is King Lee. A protege of Lau Kar Leung, with whom he worked on classics such as My Young Auntie, here he proves himself in the same league as that Master. Unfortunately despite working on later films such as Deadful Melody again with Yuen Baio, he never emerged as a top choreographer. Another rematch in the film is between Yuen and Billy Chow (they had previously fought in Dragons Forever), and yes I’m gonna say this too, for pure choreography it tops the scene in Dragons Forever. In fact the last half an hour has endless rewatch-ability. Collin Chou’s form and technique never looked better, as he takes on a bunch of heavies, and we are treated to a match between Yuen and him early in the film. While it’s a bit short, there’s no doubt we are seeing two of the greatest screen fighters go toe to toe.

While Sammo Hung serves as presenter of the movie and has a strange cameo as a Frenchman, that’s about the extent of his involvement. Godenzi was his wife at this point, and coming off the back of two major productions wherein she proved her worth as a screen fighter, it’s a shame she didn’t make many more movies. Especially because her natural aptitude for the art is so obvious; she couldn’t have had a better teacher than Sammo Hung. I was in her company two years ago when I interviewed Sammo, and let me tell you, she has aged well.

While a hell of an entertaining 90 minutes, License to Steal misses out from being an absolute classic because a lot of the humour falls flat (the only laugh out loud moments for me come from bad subtitling, such as “Grimace at her like an onion”), and just how silly the film becomes towards the end, giving credence to the idea that Hong Kong movie scripts at the time were written on the set. The tonal shifts, which become part of the charm of Golden Age Hong Kong cinema, are here jarring because the laughs don’t work and parts of the film are a bit dead when there’s no action going on. However if you’re looking for a film from the left field that contains action up there with the best from its actors, look no further.

Martin Sandison’s Rating: 8/10

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“God of War” Theatrical Poster

Director: Gordon Chan
Cast: Vincent Chiu, Sammo Kam-Bo Hung, Yasuaki Kurata, Regina Wan, Keisuke Koide, Wang Ban, Wu Yue, Jiang Luxia, Liu Junxiao, Micheal Tong
Running Time: 90 min.

By Kelly Warner

Ming soldiers advance on a fortified gate. Blood from a previous battle runs like a stream over the mud. Thousands of Japanese pirates wait on the other side of the gate, their latest attempt at a land grab to expand the reach of the Japanese empire. Sammo Hung’s General Yu leads China’s Ming soldiers on the offensive; his attacks are by the book, his timing predictable. General Yu is an old man fighting old-fashioned battles against an enemy that’s ready for the new world. Defeated once again, General Yu retreats back through the mud and the blood to find that his replacement is waiting back at camp.

Enter Vincent Zhao’s General Qi, war tactician and future national hero to China. He’s young, even-tempered, and dangerously smart. Qi takes one look at the pirate’s gate and breaches the Japanese defenses on the first go. Yu soon joins Qi and together they get the pirates on the run. The battle is over but the threat remains, and it’s clear that Qi, not Yu, should be the one chosen to chase the pirates back to Japan.

It’s an exciting first act full of action, war tactics, and some unexpected characters. The film sets a realistic tone with graphic violence and an emphasis on strategy. But then the first act ends, General Qi is tasked with training an army for the express purpose of defeating pirates, and the film gets lost in a sagging middle section with no surprises for almost a hour straight. The all too common appeals to patriotism also repeatedly rear their head during this section. It’s not offensively bad but you do notice it–more on the level of Michael Bay than The Founding of a Republic. The extended moment when family members see their men off to war plays a bit like an ad for joining the military.

General Qi may be a national hero in China, and as such Chinese audiences may not demand much character development. However, as someone unfamiliar with and with no attachment to Qi’s accomplishments, I feel the film never makes him into an interesting character. I don’t know his story well enough to accuse the film of hero worship but all the signs are there. Qi is a brilliant general, Vincent Zhao’s (True Legend) martial arts skills make him a formidable fighter, and he has just enough issues with his wife to establish that he’s married to a woman as tough as he is. The shortcomings in writing Qi might not have been so noticeable if the second act of the film wasn’t such a slog – and if the second act wasn’t carried almost expressly by Qi, making us miss the other, more interesting characters we were introduced to in the first act.

Sammo Hung (The Bodyguard) makes a strong impression in a dramatic role as the unimaginative, but no less dedicated, General Yu. Sadly, he exits the film early. The best performance comes from Yusuaki Kurata (Fist of Legend). The veteran actor plays the leader of the Japanese pirates as a student of war and the perfect nemesis to General Qi. Unlike many Chinese historical dramas, the Japanese are not depicted as outrageously evil men. They’re the bad guys, no doubt, but an attempt to give them an honest portrayal goes a long way to enhancing the dramatic tension.

After a dull middle, things pick up again in the action heavy finale. The fights, both big and small, are well filmed and expertly played. There is a moment—what I would call a medieval jet ski action sequence—where the attention to realism falls away. But the moment passes and we’re treated to a thrilling final act between Qi’s men and the last of the pirates.

God of War is not everything I could’ve hoped for from a Gordon Chan historical epic with this kind of cast. But it’s definitely not bad. A sizeable step above many other similar films to come out of China recently. Zhao is great in the action scenes, Kurata is excellent as the villain, and the attention to strategy in the battles makes for a welcome change. If not for the sagging middle, God of War could’ve been great. As is, there’s still enough recommend it to curious viewers.

Kelly Warner’s Rating: 7/10

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“The Kung Fu Master” Chinese Theatrical Poster

AKA: The Kung Fu Master
Director: Joe Cheung Tung Cho
Cast: Stephen Tung Wei, Sammo Hung, Philip Ko, Lee Hoi San, Peter Chan, Chung Fat, Dai Sai Aan, Huang Ha, Cecilia Wong, Meng Hoi, Austin Wai, Billy Chan, Lam Ching Ying, Mars, To Wai Wo, Ho Pak Kwong, Wu Ma
Running Time: 92 min. 

By Martin Sandison

In 1979, Sammo Hung was at the peak of his powers as an onscreen fighter, choreographer and director. He was dividing his time between numerous projects, not least classics like Magnificent Butcher and Odd Couple. One of his lesser known movies from this year was The Kung Fu Master (aka The Incredible Kung Fu Master), a gem of “kung fu comedy” notable for many things including a starring role for Stephen Tung Wai, better known as the kid Bruce Lee teaches at the beginning of Enter the Dragon. Tung Wai actually carved out a great career subsequently as a choreographer, with credits such as Donnie Yen’s Bodyguards and Assassins, Hou Hsiao Hsien’s The Assassin and the upcoming Max Zhang-starrer Invincible Dragon.

The plot of The Kung Fu Master is formulaic, and just a platform for the “shapes” action (Note: The use of the word “shapes,” in the context of kung fu cinema, relates to the highly intricate choreography style that reached its peak in the early 80s. Before “shapes”, the choreography style was referred to as a “basher”, i.e. more straight forward, simple punch and block).

Tung Wai stars as Kung Fu Ching, a lowly servant at a kung fu school run by one of two brothers (played by Billy Chan and Huang Hua) who are involved in challenges with other schools. Ching isn’t allowed to learn from them, so he encounters Fei Jai (Hung), a master of various styles, whom he learns from. Soon the situations escalate into many martial encounters.

Never ending “shapes” of the highest order are delivered with such ferocity, intricacy and impact that it blows you away. While a hair’s breadth away from the top Sammo “shapes,” it’s still ridonculous. The credits are a few for action: Sammo Hung’s Stuntman Association, Yuen Baio, Leung Kar Yan, Lam Ching Ying and Billy Chan – with these guys in control, you’re never far away from a fight that hits the sweet spot.

Tung Wai’s versatility as a martial artist is given a great showcase, especially his acrobatics and handwork. We also get a rematch between Sammo and Lee Hoi San (The Magnificent Butcher’s end fight barely topping this one). Lee was one of the go-to guys for villainous “shapes” and here we are treated to another: The late, great Phillip Ko*, who has a cameo, but again proves his skills during a fight with Billy Chan and Huang Hua.

*I was so sad to hear of Phillip Ko’s recent passing; this guy was featured in so many of my favourites from the 70s to the 90s. His film credits rival even Sammo’s. Two little known films of his I would recommend are: for old-school, Choy Lee Fut Kung Fu (not the dreadful Sammy Hung/Kane Kosugi movie from 2011) and Killer’s Romance, a self-directed movie adaptation of the Manga Crying Freeman, starring Simon Yam. Ko also directed a film that has one of the funniest titles ever: Royal Sperm. His memory shall live on through his undoubted presence and mastery of screen fighting.

There is a veritable smorgasbord of martial arts and comedic talent that appear in The Kung Fu Master. Chung Fat has a role as an affluent student whose ineptitude betrays how good a fighter he is (check him out at the end of Yes Madam! fighting Michelle Yeoh). Meng Hoi has a small part as a student (amongst his many film credits, he also dated/doubled for blonde fury herself, Cynthia Rothrock).

The funny elements of The Kung Fu Master are at times a little grating, but mostly on point. There’s the usual Three Stooges-style we are accustomed to in films of this type, with exaggerated sound effects and plenty of undercranking. A novel use of an oiled up patch of concrete for training and fight scenes is refreshing, and reflects Sammo and the team’s creativity.

The Kung Fu Master just misses out absolute classic status due to the simplicity and silliness of the plotline, not to mention the pedestrian direction by Joe Cheung, who also was responsible for the disappointing Chow Yun Fat heroic bloodshed movie, Flaming Brothers. If you’re looking for a “shapes” fest outside the box, look no further.

Martin Sandison’s Rating: 8/10

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IDp-BPcjytM

The post Incredible Kung Fu Master, The (1979) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“Tiger of Northland” Korean Theatrical Poster

Director: Peng Chang-Kuei 
Cast: Park Jong-kuk, Maria Yi Yi, Lau Wing, Lydia Shum Tin Ha, Ko Keung, Chang Il-sik, Yeung Wai, Wu Jiaxiang, Bruce Lai, Tony Leung Siu-Hung, Sammo Hung
Running Time: 98 min.

By Paul Bramhall

After Bruce Lee’s untimely death in 1973, the production company that Lee was signed to, Golden Harvest, scrambled around for a number of years afterwards, attempting to find a bankable replacement that could fill the shoes of their biggest star. While local talent like Jimmy Wang Yu and Angela Mao were pushed to the forefront, producer Raymond Chow also attempted to fill the void with a number of Taekwondo and Hapkido practitioners from Korea. While Lee himself had fought the likes of Whang In-shik (Way of the Dragon) and Ji Han-jae (Game of Death), in the years after his death fellow Koreans such as Byong Yu (The Association) and Jhoon Rhee (When Taekwondo Strikes) were also attempted to be billed as the next big stars.

Unlike the local stars though, many of which came from either sporting or Peking Opera backgrounds, what made the Korean stars stand apart was that all were teachers of their arts, and for many the film industry simply wasn’t their calling. Both Byong Yu and Jhoon Rhee made a single movie and returned to teaching, which they do to this day, as do most of the other Korean stars of the era. However despite the shortness of their time in-front of the camera, the impression they left was a memorable one, delivering a ferocity that made it easy to understand why they were considered as potentially the next big thing. With all learning their arts in the harsh years following the Korean War, the intensity that they brought to the screen was a different kind than their Chinese counterparts, with lethally fast kicks accompanied by thunderous growls usually coming as standard.

Another such star was Park Jong-kuk, who debuted as the title character of Tiger of Northland, from 1976. The movie was a rare example of a genuine co-production between Hong Kong’s Golden Harvest studio and Korea, and again was an example of Jong-kuk being lined up as a bankable leading man in the post-Bruce Lee Golden Harvest era. Filmed entirely on location in Korea, director and writer Peng Chang-Kuei looked to be evoking the same feel of a Bruce Lee movie, casting Maria Yi Yi, who had roles in both The Big Boss and Fist of Fury, as Jong-kuk’s love interest, and hiring frequent Lee cinematographer Tadashi Nishimoto. For whatever reason, this would be the only time Chang-Kuei would direct and write a movie. Having previously worked as an assistant director on the 1971 Shaw Brothers productions The Swift Knight and Six Assassins, after Tiger of Northland he disappeared into obscurity.

It would also be the only time for Jong-kuk to be billed as a lead. In the years following he’d go on to take supporting roles in the likes of The Legendary Strike, Iron Fisted Eagle’s Claw, and Quick Step Mantis, however by the end of the 70’s he was featuring in 100% Korean productions, usually as a supporting player in Elton Chong kung fu comedies. If you’re only going to headline one movie though, then Tiger of Northland is a more than worthy title to be proud of. Jong-kuk plays a Chinese freedom fighter that flees to Korea during the 1930’s, similar to Jason Pai Piao’s role in The Crush from 1972, in order to recruit more fighters to the resistance from both China and Korea. While he’s hitching a ride on a train, he saves a family being harassed by a Japanese soldier, killing him in the process, which results in the Japanese forces in Korea attempting to hunt him down.

That’s essentially the story, it’s about as much of a standard tale of China/Korea vs Japan as you can get, however it sets the stage for Jong-kuk to step into the shoes of a kind of 1930’s era Chen Zhen. In fairness, it’s understandable to see why he was never going to be leading man material, with his performance being as wooden as they come. Frankly it would have been more convincing if Maria Yi Yi had fallen for one of the planks of wood that he kicks in half. However Chang-Kuei is mainly concerned with crafting a tale that has the cruel Japanese forces receiving their just desserts, and to that end, Jong-kuk delivered admirably. In many ways 1976 can be considered as that transitional period between when the basher style choreography, that dominated the first half of the decade, began to develop into a more intricate style of fluid and fast shapes based choreography.

Sammo Hung was one of the action choreographers at the forefront of this change, and here is credited with the action alongside Tony Leung Siu-Hung and Richard Cheung Kuen (both of whom also have roles in the movie). Just one year later Sammo would make his directorial debut with The Iron Fisted Monk, heralding in the era of hard hitting fights, backed up with the innovative camera work that he’d become known for. In Tiger of Northland, the action strikes an appealing balance between the basher brutality and what was to come. Japanese soldiers aren’t just punched off the screen here, they’re kicked to the ground, mounted, and then punched repeatedly in the face until they flop into a lifeless slump.

The production is also notable for being Siu-Hung’s first gig at action directing. The younger brother of Bruce Leung, Siu-Hung has had a varied career, having sat in the director’s chair for such Shaw Brothers productions as Thunderclap, through to HK/USA crossovers like Superfights and Bloodmoon, all of which he also choreographed. As an action choreographer he’s one of the most underrated, having orchestrated the action for such personal favourites as Fistful of Talons and The Magic Crystal, so as an early look at his talents, Tiger of Northland should be of interest to any of his fans.

As was also standard for the era, Sammo makes an appearance as a villain, here as a yellow robed Japanese bodyguard, paired with Shaw Brothers regular Anthony Lau as a facially scarred Japanese Karate teacher. The 2 vs. 1 is a standout, which takes place as part of the finale, and was most likely solely choreographed by Sammo, as the speed of the fight is significantly turned up a few notches from the previous confrontations. There’s also another worthwhile 2 vs. 1, which has Jong-kuk facing off against a pair of action choreographers who are famous in their own right – Hsu Hsia, who directed the likes of Lion Vs. Lion and Kid from Kwangtung, and Chik Ngai-Hung, who choreographed the likes of The Loot and The Challenger. Here they play a pair of staff wielding Japanese guards, and their confrontation nicely segues into the one with Sammo and Lau.

Tiger of the Northland is undeniably one of those movies for which you check in for the action, and to that end, the fights have a raw intensity to them that keeps you glued to the screen, with the camera showing a keen eye for capturing the power behind Jong-kuk’s kicks and strikes. For fans of Korean martial arts cinema of the era, there are also plenty of familiar faces on display, such as Bang Su-il and Chang Il-shik, both of whom can be seen in the likes of Canton Viper and The Deadly Kick. Il-shik in particular is on duty here as the main villain of the piece, and the final fight is a suitably vicious affair, which makes the effort to crank things up by including throws and kicks that send the recipient flying through the air, landing an exaggerated distance away. The difference in choreography style from the rest of the movie makes the fight stand out for the right reasons, while never becoming over the top. Its cinema, and Chang-Kuei seems to understand that.

While neither Jong-kuk or Chang-Kuei would go on to become familiar faces of the kung fu genre, and at the time Tiger of the Northland failed to give the world a new Bruce Lee, with the benefit of looking back over 40 years on, it stands up as a worthy entry in the kung-fu genre. With a combination of hard hitting action, some beautifully framed cinematography, and a suitably fitting score, if you’re after a dose of mid-70’s gritty Golden Harvest style action, then you’ve come to the right place.

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 7.5/10

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“My Beloved Bodyguard” Chinese Theatrical Poster

AKA: My Beloved Bodyguard
Director: Sammo Hung
Cast: Sammo Hung, Jaqueline Chan, Andy Lau Tak-Wah, Zhu Yuchen, Jack Feng, Li Qin Qin, Yuen Biao, Yuen Wah, Tsui Hark, Karl Maka, Dean Shek, James Lee Guy, Tomer Oz, Yuen Qiu, Feng Shaofeng, Hu Jun, Eddie Peng
Running Time: 99 min.

By Martin Sandison

The Bodyguard is Sammo Hung’s first directorial feature since 1997’s Once Upon a Time in China and America, which easily makes it one of most highly anticipated Hong Kong films of recent years. I was lucky enough to attend Udine Far East Film Festival (absolutely worth a pilgrimage), where Sammo received the Golden Mulberry Lifetime achievement award right before the audiences eyes. The ceremony was followed by The Bodyguard’s European premier on the closing night – a real treat for those who attended!

Sammo plays Ding, an ex-army officer and bodyguard who is retired and living in the suburbs. He discovers he has the early signs of dementia, which the film deals with very sensitively. His landlord, Park, (Li Qin Qin) has a romantic interest in him, and his neighbour’s (Andy Lau) daughter, Cherry, (Jaqueline Chan Pui Yin) sees him as the Grandfather she never knew. When Lau’s character gets involved with some gangsters after stealing a case of precious jewellery, Ding must rediscover his martial arts skills to deal with the gangsters.

It’s no joke to say Sammo’s performance in The Bodyguard is one of his best. But don’t be mislead by many of the film’s trailers, which pushed the action to the fore. With the exception of three standout action scenes, The Bodyguard is really a low key drama. The other film that immediately sprang to my mind in a similar vein was Heart of the Dragon (1985), wherein Sammo played a mentally disabled brother to Jackie Chan’s tough cop. That film was made at the height of Sammo’s powers, but didn’t feature him performing any action. The Bodyguard is a much more mature piece of filmmaking than Heart of the Dragon, with the nuances of Sammo’s performance plain to see; especially in comparison with the rather bad taste of Heart of the Dragon.

The Bodyguard features many touching moments that are played out subtly, without the over emphatic soundtracks that plague many Hong Kong films. In fact, Sammo says very little throughout the film, but his facial expressions and body language create a wonderful picture of a man near-broken by his past, which he is forgetting bit by bit. When his character divulges what he remembers of his past, Sammo’s reactions are on point. The result is heartrending and emotionally honest.

The limitations of age meant Sammo had to change his action style. With the realistic implications of his character’s old career, we see this change. The first fight is short and to the point; whereas the second is the centrepiece, which has his character taking on a roomful of guys. Immediately, you can see this adaptation; instead of wider shots with more than a few exchanges, most shots are very short and the camera is very close in. Some viewers may be a little disappointed by this, I certainly wasn’t: The pin sharp editing, the conviction of the attacks and the brutal bone breaking are a feast for the eyes. There are some brilliant ideas that reflect the old age of Sammo’s character: One where he elevates his legs and throws an opponent, and the next shot shows him in pain. It’s this human aspect to the film that really marks it above many other martial arts movies, and reflects Sammo’s genius.

Fans will be delighted to see cameos by Yuen Biao, Yuen Wah, Tsui Hark, Karl Maka and Dean Shek. Despite none of them doing any action – not to mention their limited screen time – it’s great to see them all share the screen with some good laughs to be had in their exchanges. Andy Lau, one of the producers of the film, is his usual charismatic self in a supporting role (look out for a great chase involving his character). Feng Jia Yi appears as the head gangster and does a good job of conveying his character’s evildoings.

Problems with the film are some of the supporting cast don’t match Sammo, especially Li Qin Qin. Overall, the film also takes a while to get going, however, these are minor faults that don’t detract from a very well rounded movie.

The Bodyguard really is a triumphant directorial return for one of the legends of Hong Kong cinema. Its moral compass, superb action, Sammo’s great performance and its delicately portrayed subject matter mean I will revisit it time and time again.

Martin Sandison’s Rating: 8/10

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“Hand of Death” Chinese Theatrical Poster

AKA: Shaolin Men
Director: John Woo
Cast: Dorian Tan, James Tien, Jackie Chan, Yeung Wai, Sammo Hung, Gam Kei Chu, John Woo, Ko Keung, Polly Shang-Kwan, Chu Ching, Wilson Tong, Yuen Wah, Chan Feng Chen, Chiu Chun, Lin Ke Ming, Yuen Biao
Running Time: 92 min.

By Zach Nix

The Hand of Death (aka Countdown in Kung Fu) is an early John Woo film from his formative years as a filmmaker. Woo wouldn’t become an acclaimed or recognizable filmmaker until his breakout hit, A Better Tomorrow, was released upon the world in 1986. While one might expect The Hand of Death to be a decent or throw away entry in Woo’s filmography, viewers will be pleasantly surprised to discover that film contains a well-paced story, likable characters, and solid action sequences. The Hand of Death is worth checking out by Woo fans for his incredible action mastery and trademark themes of honor, loyalty, brotherhood, and self-sacrifice. Action fans will also want to seek out The Hand of Death for two early appearances by action legends Sammo Hung and Jackie Chan.

The Hand of Death opens during the Qing Dynasty as a Shaolin traitor, Shih Shao-Feng (James Tien), leads an attack on the Shaolin Temple by Manchu rulers. Various Shaolin teachers and students retreat from the temple in order to preserve their teachings and to fight another day. As Shih and his right hand man, Officer Tu Ching (Sammo Hung), take over the land, one of the temple’s best students, Yun Fei (Tao-Liang Tan), trains in secret in order to avenge the death of his Shaolin master and to kill Shih. Yun Fei eventually aligns with two men, Tan Feng (Jackie Chan) and a wandering swordsman (Wei Yang), who wish to avenge their fallen loved ones at Shih’s hands and to restore their honor.

Woo holds one of his earliest action pictures together with traditional martial arts themes. The film is ultimately a story of revenge amongst strangers become brothers in the process. Tao-Liang Tan does fine work as the film’s lead, a determined martial arts expert who must learn how to combat Shih’s own powerful methods. Tao is given most of the film’s action sequences and showcases superb martial arts mastery against several henchmen, bodyguards, and James Tien himself. Supporting performances by Jackie Chan and Wei Yang are especially enjoyable. Chan is charming and likable in this early performance of his that allows him to show his stuff in two awesome fight sequences. Wei Yang also plays a memorable drifter who joins up with Yun Fei. The Hand of Death’s trio of lead characters feel like a formative step in Woo’s career leading up to the unforgettable trio of leads in Woo’s own A Better Tomorrow.

James Tien and Sammo Hung play two despicable villains, one a vile and cruel murderer and the other a dopey but loyal martial artist. Tien, a main stay in the genre, plays one of his earliest villain roles here. Poor Hung is forced to wear a ridiculous set of fake teeth throughout the film as well. However, his impressive moves, especially his final fight against Tao-Liang Tan, off set his ridiculous pair of chompers.

The Hand of Death is never boring because Woo graces the viewer with an action scene every few minutes. The film opens and closes with action for goodness sakes. Every action sequence is a solid display of Woo’s mastery of photography, editing, and direction. The Hand of Death really comes to life in its final act when Yun Fei, Tan Feng, and The Wanderer guide a scholar (John Woo himself) through the country-side while fighting off Shih’s various bodyguards and loyal servants. Characters sacrifice themselves and put their lives in danger, an important theme in Woo’s filmography, in order to stop Shihs’ evil reign.

Unfortunately, The Hand of Death is not immune to problems, as some cheesy wigs and a rushed opening hamper the film from being one of Woo’s top tier pieces of entertainment. Fans of classic martial arts cinema are typically used to the cheesy wigs atop the actors’ heads. However, the wigs in this film seem particularly cheap and fake, especially the one atop Jackie Chan’s head. The film is also burdened by a rushed opening that hurls as much exposition at the viewer as possible. The Hand of Death could have benefited from a more organic and natural opening that relied less on narration. The introductory action sequence would have been made more dramatic if the audience were slightly familiar with the characters and their plight, especially Yun Fei.

Woo’s The Hand of Death is a solid martial arts film made all the more enjoyable thanks to the inclusion of martial arts mainstays Tien, Hung, and Chan. The film is never boring, as Woo provides the audience with an action scene nearly ever few minutes. And the characters, while far from complex or original, are all likable and developed enough so that their motives are understandable. The story that surrounds all of these characters and the action sequences is enjoyable too, as the film contains actual stakes to its proceedings. All in all, The Hand of Death comes highly recommended to die hard John Woo fans curious to see his early work. Woo’s future mastery of character, action, and story is all evident in this early film of his. Fans of Jackie Chan and Sammo Hung will also want to seek the film out to see some solid fist and spear play by the two.

Zach Nix’s Rating: 8/10

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Rise of the Legend | Blu-ray & DVD (Well Go USA)

Director: Roy Chow
Writer: Christine To
Cast: Eddie Peng, May Wang, Tony Leung Ka Fai, Sammo Hung, Jing Boran, Wong Cho Lam, Simon Yam, Max Zhang Jin, AngelaBaby, Feng Jia Yi, Byron Mann
Running Time: 131 min.

By oneleaf

19th Century China was a time of turmoil. The majority of the populace suffered from extreme poverty and Western imperialist pressure was slowly rearing its ugly head in major cities all over the country. Local feudal-like gangs engaging in turf wars have become a commonplace along with the proliferation of opium dens. An undercurrent of discontent from the masses was about to boil over…

This is the backdrop of Rise of the Legend in the port city of Guangzhou, China revolving around its main wharf controlled by two factions, the Black Tiger Clan and the Northern Sea Clan.

Rise of the Legend stars Eddie Peng (Unbeatable) as Wong Fei Hung and Sammo Hung (Once Upon a Time in Shanghai) as Lei Gong of the Black Tiger Clan. The film is a re-imagining of the life and times of Chinese folk hero Wong Fei Hung. Martial arts movie fans will no doubt remember the character made famous by Jet Li (Flying Swords of Dragon Gate) and Tsui Hark in the Once upon a Time in China film series. This new glossy interpretation chronicles Wong’s meteoric rise from street urchin to folk hero.

Rise of the Legend opens with a drenched Wong – obviously in distress – running amidst a heavy downpour, fighting for his life as axe and sword wielding goons rush at him from every direction. The Corey Yuen-choreographed clash is beautiful to look at. The slow motion pan and scan, the CGI and even some ‘wire-fu’ makes Peng (a non-martial artist in real life) look believable with his “shadowless kick” Wong is famous for. The almost-endless rhythmic ballet of punches and kicks – packed with a cacophony of sound – left me affixed to the screen. Heightening the life-and-death action in progress is the outstanding score by Shigeru Umebayashi (The Grandmaster).

Yuen finally redeems himself from the debacle that was Badges of Fury. Rise of the Legend is vintage Yuen. He’s truly in fine form here with his visual flair for summersaults, aerial wireworks and a variety of connecting kicks and punches. One particular inventive sequence made me want more: During a sword battle between Wong and his opponent, Wong’s sword flies out of his hand and impales onto a pillar on the opposite side of the room. After leaping atop his enemy – landing a near-fatal, closed fist knuckle blow to the head – Wong continues to strike him repeatedly. Stumbling backwards from the attack, his opponent basically decapitates himself, falling back onto the aforementioned sword. This clever scene has to be seen to be believed.

Peng’s casting as Wong was a good choice. His charismatic presence is well-balanced by his nonchalant, under-the-surface seething. Hung is excellent as s Boss Lei Gong, the cruel, tyrannical leader of the Black Tiger Clan. He’s ruthless, yet in his own way, benevolent to those he deemed loyal and worthy.

Peng reportedly buffed up and trained for almost an entire year in Nanquan (Southern fist) to prepare for the role. His dedication paid off: His moves are no mere mimicry; they appear powerful, effective and real (take this from someone who actually practices martial arts). He’s also quite adept at using the broadsword, which is no small feat for someone with a year’s training.

Rebooting the much beloved folk tale of Wong into Rise of the Legend was a gamble. Some detractors would label the film sacrilegious, compared to the Once Upon a Time in China series. However, even the Once Upon a Time in China series is a fictionalized rendition; not a biopic. The gamble, in my opinion, did pay off and this new tale of Wong stands on its own.

Rise of the Legend is not without drawbacks. Clocking in at over 2 hours long, the script borders on information overload: too many thematic elements are explored, but none are fully developed. As a result, Roy Chow’s (Nightfall) directing and pacing isn’t as smooth as it should be. It constantly transitions from one theme to the next with flashbacks. These transitions left very little room for character development for two main characters in the film.

Nevertheless, the film’s excellent choreography, overall storytelling and inevitable duel between Wong and Lei Gong make up for its shortcomings. What a finale.

Rise of the Legend is definitely recommended.

oneleaf’s rating: 7/10

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“14 Blades” Japanese Theatrical Poster

Director: Daniel Lee
Cast: Donnie Yen, Vicky Zhao Wei, Wu Chun, Qi Yu Wu, Kate Tsui, Chen Kuan Tai, Wu Ma, Sammo Hung, Xu Xiang Dong, Chen Zhi Hui, An Ruiyun, Ding Xiao Lung, Fung Hak On, Lam Chi Tai, Damian Lau, Law Kar Ying
Running Time: 114 min.

By Kyle Warner

Donnie Yen’s 14 Blades was first released internationally back in 2010. The film took its time making its way to the US, finally debuting here in 2014. Was it worth the wait? Well… no. But it’s not without its charms, however familiar they may be.

Taking place during the time of the Ming Dynasty, the film focuses on the Jinyiwei, the military police/super assassins who served the Emperor. As depicted in the film, the Jinyiwei were made up almost entirely of orphans, and were trained from an early age in ways of combat and assassination. Stripped of their names and their humanity, the new inductees were trained until there was nothing left but obedient killing machines. The story begins when the Jinyiwei leader Qinglong (Donnie Yen) is tasked with assassinating an official and retrieving a sacred treasure in his possession… but not all is at it seems. The mission is a lie, just the first part of a detailed conspiracy to overthrow the Emperor. During his mission, Qinglong learns that the sacred treasure is in fact the Emperor’s Seal. Before he can figure out what it all means, the Seal is stolen, Qinglong’s men are slaughtered, and he is made to look like a traitor and a thief.

The beginning of the film is shot on dark sets with drab colors and oppressive shadows. It’s like kung fu noir and I found it to be an interesting choice of style. However, when Qinglong goes on the run, he escapes to sunny desert locales and the entire visual scheme of the film changes. The film’s visual style is cut in two and it’s the first sign of writer/director Daniel Lee’s uncertainty about what to do with the movie he’s making.

Some have criticized the film’s overuse of CGI and wirework in its fight scenes—as is their right—however, I believe that the use of technology fits with the kind of film Lee was trying to make here. Reading the description, it sounds like just another historical action movie, but I’m almost convinced that 14 Blades was trying to be a Ming Dynasty superhero epic. Donnie Yen’s hero runs around with a box of fourteen special blades, most of which pop out with a mechanical whir, like some kind of giant, automated Swiss Army knife. The film’s most prominent villain, Tuo Tuo (Kate Tsui), jumps around with a metal whip and some serious dreadlocks, always accompanied by the sound of rattlesnakes. Tuo Tuo also has the ability to disappear and reappear during fights (always losing one layer of clothing in the process). On top of that we also get Sammo Hung as a conniving Prince who walks around on crutches and peg legs, Chun Wu as a Jack Sparrow-like bandit of the desert, and some random assassin who jumps out of a coffin on the side of the road (played by an almost unrecognizable Chen Kuan Tai). Oh, and at one point Donnie Yen beats up a couple guys with a chicken dinner. It’s an odd little film, and I personally liked these moments of strangeness and all the colorful characters.

… So it’s a shame that Donnie Yen’s character is so flat by comparison. Yen plays the part of the stoic hero well, grimacing and glaring at all those who share a scene with him, but there’s simply not much to the role. Zhao Wei plays the female lead, a character who helps Qinglong in his quest, alternating back and forth between willing ally and unwilling hostage for most of the film’s runtime. Her primary role in the film is to constantly remind Qinglong that the world is in need of heroes—which is about as obvious as sitting down across from Bruce Wayne and talking about how much Gotham needs Batman. Still, despite a rather bland role, I think the film needed her. Zhao Wei effortlessly brings humor and warmth to the film almost singlehandedly, which helps in the moments when Donnie Yen is not kicking ass.

My main issue with the film is that the plot is so bland and features so many borrowed parts. The stolen Seal of the Emperor is about as dull a McGuffin that you could come up with, comparable only with the spy genre’s missing microfilm. And of course there’s also an evil eunuch in the film, because you always need one of those.

These borrowed ideas and uninspired plot twists wouldn’t matter so much if the colorful nature if the film had more depth to it. Sammo Hung with peg legs sounds like an interesting character, but he only has one scene of note. Chun Wu’s bandit leader is actually kind of fun, but he comes from out of nowhere. There is a scene where Yen and Wu meet for the first time, then fight, then end the scene by agreeing to help each other with a heist. Um, okay? Who is this guy and why do you trust him? Most puzzling of all are the 14 blades. It’s an interesting device with some cool weapons tucked away inside it, but we never really get a good look at the blades themselves. In the end, the device and its blades never amounted to much.

Watching Daniel Lee’s films, I can’t decide if he’s lacking talent as a writer, a director, or both. Lee’s 2011 film White Vengeance was well written and featured a few decent performances. However, the historical epic also featured awful action sequences, poor editing, and a dull visual style. 14 Blades feels like the opposite side of the coin, where the action is the best part of the film, and the writing is its weak point. Daniel Lee’s career has been marked by inconsistency and indecision about what kind of filmmaker he wants to be. This trend continues with 14 Blades.

Fellow contributor Paul Bramhall notes that 14 Blades is a remake of the Shaw Bros. film Secret Service of the Imperial Court (aka Police Pool of Blood). I have not seen the original, so I cannot comment on the differences in plot or quality between the 1984 film and Daniel Lee’s adaptation.

Donnie Yen is one of the busiest movie stars in the world. With a seemingly constant output of new films, some productions are bound to fall shorter than others. 14 Blades is not the next Ip Man, Dragon (aka Wu Xia), or Iceman… but I’d put it a notch higher than Special ID and The Legend of the Fist. I think in time, 14 Blades will be remembered more as a curiosity. It’s a film with unfulfilled potential and some half-baked ideas, but it’s not devoid of entertainment value. Watch it for the action and you might have an okay time.

Kyle Warner’s Rating: 5/10

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“Bruce Lee: The Legend” Japanese Theatrical Poster

Writer: Russell Cawthorne
Narration: James B. Nicholson
Cast: Bruce Lee, Raymond Chow, Nora Miao, Linda Lee Cadwell, Hugh O’Brian, Betty Ting Pei, Gig Young, Chuck Norris, Robert Clouse, Chuck Norris, Sammo Hung, Jackie Chan, Andre Morgan, Fred Weintraub
Running Time: 88 min.

By Matthew Le-feuvre

In 1973, still fresh from the trauma of Bruce Lee’s abrupt and unforeseen death, Golden Harvest decided to produce a full length documentary entitled Bruce Lee: The Man, The Legend. Although its aim at the time was an unbiased attempt to show the real personality behind the mythical iconography. Unfortunately – admidst all the frantic hysteria; the obsessive behavior and shallow superstitions – this tribute feature ended up fueling an inferno of controversy, rather than dispel the waging tongues of discontent; namely the media, whom quite drunk on sensationalism, reviewed The Man, The Legend as “exploitive” and “capitalistic.”

Understandably, their argument was valid, particularly in regards to incorporating actual sequences of Linda Lee at the height of her grief, as well as extensive footage of Lee’s Hong Kong funeral service. On the other hand, it was a revealing glimpse of Bruce Lee’s humanity or immortality, via transcendence, but somehow Raymond Chow was targeted and pre-judged as an insincere man; an egocentric mogul determined too milk as much box office returns as possible from an all too eager public willing to exercise collective expenditure for the sake of their lost idol. The Same could be said of Lo Wei or the Shaw Brothers.

Sadly, Bruce Lee: The Man, The Legend intriguingly morphed into something by way of a double edged sword, an anaemic production that couldn’t really satisfy anyone at any conscious level, either with exclusive interviews, commentary or teasing wisps of ‘then’ unseen Game of Death footage or plot concepts for an unrealized philosophical treatise called The Southern Fist.

Various parts looked and felt as though they were hurriedly edited solely for padding without any significant continuity or explaination for insertion: Wong Shum Leung’s (Bruce Lee’s former second Wing Chun Sifu) Game of Death screen test, for example, is not entirely clarified on first viewing as it was predominantly staged on an interior Enter the Dragon set, featuring Wong and Lee’s adoptive brother, Wu Ng, sparring and performing close trapping techniques. Confusing as this may well be, if extra attention had been focused on proper narration and/or construct, perhaps critics would have been, moreover, receptive to this slightly muddled presentation.

Instead, for reasons of his own – be it creative, economic or financial – Raymond Chow decided to shelve The Man, The Legend indefinitely. However, a decade on, Golden Harvest executives again consigned themselves to remaking a broader, more in depth profile, albeit shortening the original title to just Bruce Lee: The Legend.

Freed from the convention of time and budget constraints, technical motifs of book-like chapter visuals and succinct, yet informative narration opens Bruce Lee: The Legend with a rousing musical score and a superb montage of Lee-action sequences. From there, it gently flows into a carefully edited kaleidoscopic gamut of ‘then’ rare footage, diversifying from Lee’s selected childhood filmography/U.S. television credentials to his subsequent Hong Kong film entries. Interspersed with unavailable stills/photographs and eye witness testimonies, personalities such as the aforementioned Raymond Chow and Nora Miao intimately discuss their friendship, as well as celluloid analogies between Lee’s life experiences and the pictures he made for Golden Harvest.

These absorbing insights not only celebrates Bruce Lee’s enduring legacy, but successfully differentiates the ‘Man’ from the illusion of ‘Star fodder’ – a commodity tagging or representation Lee personally found morose and superficial, as inferred to the late Pierre Burton.

Interestingly, all this mammoth responsibility fell into the capable hands of writer/producer, Russell Cawthorne (the very same man who cameoed in Game of Death ’78 as Billy Lo’s plastic surgeon), an introspective individual, who has often quoted that his associations with Lee were always one of electric.

Indeed, condensing a person’s life into a mere eighty minutes is understandably a challenging task to accomplish, yet Cawthorne’s enthusiasm and objectivity blooms within the context of this unique observation where latter biographies – obviously modeled on The Legend – seem mundane, paceless and absent of passion; bar exception is Toby Russell’s Death By Misadventure (1994), the extensive works of Walt Missingham and John Little’s A Warrior’s Journey (2005).

Today Bruce Lee: The Legend may appear dated and stylistically mechanical (no digital or CGI software here folks!), particularly for contemporary fans. Nevertheless, Cawthorne has left no stone unturned, especially when dealing with sensitive or controversial issues – Lee’s untimely passing or the unfinished Game of Death project: both ongoing and debatable subjects that emerge with regularity.

Still, despite the disadvantage of many alternative prints (some versions have omitted (A), Lee’s screentest; (B) certain Game of Death outtakes or (C) Enter the Dragon montage with revamped musical score.), nostalgically, Bruce Lee: The Legend is as ever a commendable examination into one of the most important, multi-faceted icons of the 20th century, brimming with edifying poise and (a) regality not found in current or extant documentaries produced on the “Little Dragon.”

Matthew Le-feuvre’r Rating: 10/10

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“Once Upon a Time in Shanghai” International Poster

Director: Wong Ching Po
Cast: Philip Ng, Andy On, Mao Jun Jie, Sammo Hung Kam Bo, Jiang Lu Xia, Chen Kuan Tai, Yuen Cheung Yan, Fung Hak On, Yolanda Yuan Quan
Running Time: 95 min.

By Paul Bramhall

In a Hong Kong which continues to be starved of performers who can deliver screen presence, charisma, and kung-fu skills, the trend over recent years seem to be to push the talented martial artists that usually take on supporting roles to the fore, making them front and centre and hoping for the best. Wu Jing pulled off directing and leading man duties in 2008’s Legendary Assassin, with only lukewarm results; Xing Yu took top billing in 2013’s Wrath of Vajra, displaying all the screen presence of a rock; and in 2014, Philip Ng was pushed to the forefront for Once Upon A Time in Shanghai.

Just like Wu Jing and Xing Yu, Ng has consistently shone brightly and briefly in his many supporting roles. However, also just like Wu Jing and Xing Yu, the real question here is can he carry a whole movie by himself? Thankfully in Once Upon A Time in Shanghai, he gets to share the screen with a high caliber of Hong Kong talent, both new and old. In many ways the cast is like a roll call of Hong Kong fighting talent – Andy On, Jiang Luxia, Sammo Hung, Chen Kuan Tai, Fung Hak On and Yuen Cheung Yan (who bizarrely sounds like Darth Vader here) are all in the mix, reading like a kung fu fan’s dream.

The story is also reminiscent of the Hong Kong movie industries glory days, as it tells the tale of Ma Wing-Jing, a country bumpkin who comes to 1930’s Shanghai in the hopes of living the big city life in a virtuous and honest manner. The tale has been told in many different formats, including the 1972 Shaw Brothers movie The Boxer From Shantung, in which Wang-Jing is played by Chen Kuan Tai (who also appears in this version), and again in 1997’s Hero, in which the role is taken on by Takeshi Kaneshiro. Both Kuan Tai and Kaneshiro have strong onscreen personas, so Ng has been left with some big shoes to fill, and understandably, he somewhat falters.

The story goes that Ma Wang-Jing comes to Shanghai as an innocent country bumpkin, who eventually falls in with some local gangsters and begins to be corrupted by power, a change which is important to convey in any version of the tale. However here that change isn’t conveyed at all, but this isn’t due to Ng’s acting, we’ll return to that point later. What Ng does convey is a sense of awe at the bright lights of Shanghai, but unfortunately, he seems to confuse acting like a gape jawed idiot as a look which conveys innocence. It doesn’t.

Speaking of the bright city lights, you’d be forgiven for thinking they’re not that bright at all, because the movie’s color palette is so washed out that it’s essentially black and white, with only the slightest splashes of color, such as Ng’s jade bracelet or some red lipstick. This color scheme worked in movies like Sin City, but here it just looks a little off, like they should either make it full color or make it completely black and white. On a side note, the original publicity poster which was distributed reflected this color scheme; however, as it neared release, all of the new publicity shots that came out were shown in full color, which was somewhat misleading whichever way you look at it.

This decision was probably a choice of director Wong Ching Po, who’s known for his quirky movies such as Let’s Go! and Revenge: A Love Story. There are times when it does work, and the movie starts off strongly, with Ng displaying his fighting prowess on a boat, and then his first interactions when he arrives in Shanghai. However, the movie is also scripted by Wong Jing, Hong Kong’s master of low brow entertainment. Wong can deliver when he wants to, and in fact some of the sets here look to be the same used on 2013’s excellent The Last Tycoon, which he wrote and directed, however here the story shows signs that he probably wasn’t putting a lot of effort in.

A disturbing amount of randomness seems to enter the movie at various inappropriate moments, most of which involve poor Andy On. A scene suddenly cuts away to him sitting in his living room with a live tiger prowling around, in a moment of manly bonding with Ng, he explains the origin of a hotdog and how the sausage was too slippery to hold bare handed; and to top it all off, he has to frequently break out of character to deliver hysterically fake evil laughter. It’s all very unintentionally funny, and you have to frequently remind yourself that it’s supposed to be a serious movie whenever these moments occur.

Thankfully, unlike some recent movies like The Viral Factor and Naked Soldier, On gets to unleash his fists and feet at regular intervals, here under the choreography of Yuen Woo Ping, the second time they’ve worked together after 2009’s True Legend. On is probably the closest thing Hong Kong has right now to the perfect thespian: he has the looks, the screen presence, and the moves, topped off with perfect English. Ng is the star of the show of course, and he gets plenty of opportunities to also bust out the moves, his mid-film fight with On being a highlight. The choice of camera work is not always the best in the fight scenes, but thankfully, there is a lack of the dreaded shaky-cam, and we get to see that Ng’s skills are undoubtedly the real deal.

There are aspects of the action which will frustrate though, or more specifically, the absence of action by some performers. Jiang Luxia, once heralded as the next Yukari Oshima, continues her decline of being in movies in which she has virtually no lines and even less action. I don’t know why she was even here, as she’s basically a glorified extra. I confess to harboring a secret desire to see a Sammo Hung vs. Chen Kuan Tai match, but it didn’t happen. Without giving too much away, I also found the finishing move Ng pulls off against the first Japanese fighter in the finale to be laugh out loud funny, rather than the ‘wow, that was cool’ reaction it was probably going for.

While on the subject of the Japanese, it brings me back to my point regarding Wang-Jing’s corruption by wealth and power. As I mentioned this part is a crucial change for the character, but of course both The Boxer of Shantung and Hero were made before Hong Kong’s handover back to China, so didn’t need to worry about such things as appeasing the China censorship board. In Once Upon A Time in Shanghai the character Ng portrays is much more two dimensional, and dare I say dull, compared to previous depictions. So instead of being corrupted by power and taking on his own country men in the form of the axe gang, Ng is left stuck with a plot which pits him against, you guessed it – the Japanese! Jet Li fought them in Fearless; Donnie Yen fought them in Legend of the Fist and Ip Man; and Xing Yu fought them in The Wrath of Vajra; but hey, clearly not enough mileage has been traveled with the Japanese villains plot device yet.

While of course this was also par of the course in many of the 1970’s kung fu movies, the in your face nationalism that seems to come packaged with it these days definitely wasn’t, and here once again it’s On who is given the embarrassingly cringe worthy line of yelling out how he’ll never let China be ruled by Westerners or the Japanese. For a simple story of a country bumpkin who comes to make a living in the big city, the jarring but predictable turn of events that make it all about the unwavering Chinese spirit against the Japanese will likely induce a yawn. How much you enjoy the movie will probably come down to balancing a love of fight scenes with a high level of patience. You’ve been warned.

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 6/10

The post Once Upon a Time in Shanghai (2014) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“The Association” Chinese Theatrical Poster

Director: Cheng Chang Ho
Cast: Tien Ni, Yue Bing Lung, Angela Mao, Zhao Lei, Suen Lam, Chiang Nan, Fang Mien, Sammo Hung, Wang In Sik, Chiu Hung, Lee Kwan, Wilson Tong, Carter Wong, Simon Yuen, Yuen Wah, Naomi Oka, Hung Sing Chung
Running Time: 87 min.

By Paul Bramhall

The career of Korean director Cheng Chang-ho makes for an interesting read. Chang-ho made his directorial debut in 1951, and went on to make movies for several decades in his native Korea, including winning best director for the movie A Horizon. However on an international scale, most people only know his work from the nine year period spanning 1969 – 1977, when thanks to being signed up by the famous Shaw Brothers studio, he began making movies in Hong Kong.

During this relatively short period he cranked out a total of 11 movies, some of which would instantly become landmarks of the kung-fu cinema genre. In 1972 he made King Boxer with Lo Lieh, which is generally considered to be the first kung-fu movie to break out into the international market. In 1974 he directed The Skyhawk, which featured Kwan Tak Hing take on the role of Wong Fei Hung. Tak Hing had played Fei Hung in over 100 movies since the mid-1940s, before stepping down in 1970, however The Skyhawk proved so popular it became somewhat of a comeback vehicle, and he’d reprise the role of Fei Hung for several movies over the coming years. Chang-ho’s last movie in Hong Kong was Broken Oath, an Angela Mao starring re-telling of the Japanese movie Lady Snowblood, and the movie that a lot of Mao fans sight as her best.

Amongst all these classics, we have The Association, which is essentially the elephant in the room. Having switched from Shaw Brothers to fledging movie studio Golden Harvest, Chang-ho seemed to turn his attention to directing gritty crime thrillers, such as The Devil’s Treasure and The Double Crossers. The Association was made between these movies, and was originally intended to be a two part crime epic, teaming him up with his fellow countrymen Byong Yu and Hwang In-shik, both masters in the Korean art of Hapkido, as well as being shot in Korea.

Sadly, things went wrong along the way. The story, which focuses on a welfare agency for young women actually being a cover-up for a prostitution and abortion (not necessarily in that order) ring, features a fairly heavy dose of exploitation, which comes in the form of liberal helpings of female nudity. Byong Yu, who as it would turn out would make his first and last screen appearance in The Association, despite being the main character, wasn’t entirely comfortable with the more sleazy elements of the production, and ultimately would buy out what was planned to be the first part, preventing it from being released. So The Association is in fact the second part to what was originally a much bigger tale, patched together so that it runs as coherently as possible.

So, what exactly is left? Well, as the movie opens we’re given a credits sequence which features exploding skulls, so straight away it had my favor just for putting a smile on my face. Who wouldn’t want exploding skulls in the opening credits, especially when they have exactly zero relevance to the next 90 minutes. Before long we have Angela Mao and Byong Yu throwing down against each other, which happens to take place in the exact same patch of cleared forest Casanova Wong and Leung Kar Yan would square off 3 years later during the opening credits of Warriors Two.

Things aren’t as well as they seem though, Mao and Yu are actually a loved up couple, and the fight is just playful sparring, but alas it’s just a flashback. In present day, Yu, an upstanding police officer, has had to arrest Mao for killing an official, and we’re introduced to him tying her to a pole for execution via a death squad. Before going on her way, she is kind enough to confide in him that there’s no hard feelings, he did what he had to do, but she assures him that the official she killed was corrupt, and part of something much bigger. Yu, confident his girlfriend who he’s about to have shot is telling the truth, promises her he’ll get to the bottom of it, so at least her death won’t be in vain.

This somewhat bizarre tone permeates throughout the rest of the movie, as it becomes increasingly clear that The Association is in fact not a kung-fu movie at all, but rather it shares much more in common with the sleazy European exploitation movies of the same period. The only difference is this one just happens to have some A grade martial artists busting out the moves at infrequent intervals during its runtime. This is perhaps no more obvious than when Yu, sent on a mission to protect the wealthy Tien Ni who’s become a target for some marauding thieves, explains he’ll sleep in the closet of her bedroom for the next month until they decide to attack. Because in The Association, this type of thinking makes perfect sense. Taken with this approach, there is enjoyment to be found. It’s not enjoyment that the film-makers intended, and it’s certainly not enjoyment from the fights, however taken as a piece of “so bad it’s good” cinema, there are laughs to be had.

There’s probably no other movie out there which features martial arts legends Sammo Hung and Hwang In-shik sharing the same screen with a tied up woman being interrogated by having electric voltage conductors being pinched to her nipples. But The Association has it. There’s probably no other movie out there which features a dark and foreboding abortion ceremony, with a naked woman laying on a table surrounded by black hooded figures, in a scene which is juxtaposed by the camera constantly cutting away to so close they’re almost blurry shots of the woman’s breasts. But The Association has it. There’s probably no other movie out there that would dare to be so bold as to, in the exact same scene, suddenly change the soundtrack to a several minutes long (literally) go-go dance tune, and have the evil blonde haired western actress, adorned in see through lingerie, proceed to energetically dance around the naked patient for no reason whatsoever. But you guessed it, The Association has it.

It’s a movie filled with such scenes, each one of them generating an equal amount of head scratching and laughter, and complimented with some sort of alcoholic beverage, the movie is a lot of fun. On the flip side, for the martial arts fan, people expecting to see the amazing skill of Byong Yu in his only movie appearance, the ferocious kicks of Hwang In-shik, or the talents of Sammo Hung and Angela Mao, will probably be left reaching for an alcoholic beverage for entirely different reasons.

The Association is not without fight scenes, Yu and In-shik go toe-to-toe on a couple of occasions, and there’s a satisfying opening fight with Mao, which has some nice use of slow motion that captures the intensity of those famous facial expressions of hers in a way which I haven’t seen previously. However there’s nothing outstanding here, and it’s worth pointing out that the movie lacks any kind of final fight, in part due to the rather left of field exit of Yu’s character (it made me wonder if this was filmed after Yu bought out the first part, so was done as an act of revenge by Chang-ho). For some cheap thrills though, The Association is worth a look.

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 6/10

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“Dirty Tiger, Crazy Frog” Chinese DVD Cover

Director: Karl Maka
Cast: Sammo Hung, Lau Kar Wing, Chin Yuet Sang, Huang Ha, Chung Fat, Lee Hoi San, Jason Pai Piao, Dean Shek Tien, Peter Chan Lung, To Siu Ming, Cheng Hong Yip
Running Time: 97 min.

By Matthew Le-feuvre

It is no secret that portly legend, Sammo Hung has maintained a keen interest – even a preoccupation – with historical Chinese figures, particularly Leung Yee Tai, Leung Jan, Wong Fei Hung and recently, Yip Man: not solely for their distinct and revered fighting methodologies; but, in addition to character traits commonly inherent often expressing morality, a patriotic code as well a high degree of social upstanding. It was these attributes which prompted Hung too ask questions, to explore what cultivated the inner motivations of a hero (or an anti-hero for that matter); an integral facet he noticed was constantly absent from the Hong Kong film industry as opposed to exacting vengeance on a scale so enormous, believability was abandoned while empathetic audiences cheered loudly at what imagery they viewed without really understanding the core objective or the reasons for their collective enthusiasm. Hung, like Bruce Lee, hoped to change this perspective.

Although it took many years to accomplish, Hung’s eventual desire for flexibility first surfaced in his directorial debut, The Iron Fisted Monk (1977) where drama (or comedy) and graphic violence seemingly walked hand-in-hand, thus the ‘vengeance’ elements were reduced to a secondary (script) unit; a template he was able too replicate time and again for future successes, such as Warriors Two and The Prodigal Son, twin examples of excellent character development in unison with the accurate depiction of Wing Chun Kung Fu.

However, Hung wasn’t just interested in acting, choreography or direction; he was also a pivotal influence in cross-breeding genres: something he easily acclimatized too even if the layman didn’t originally grasp the nature of his cinematic cocktail, blending slapstick comedy with balletic kung fu arrangements and/or fantasy horror. Both, by definition, became the backbone of his repertoire throughout a decade which was slowly waning in terms of box office appeal. Ironically, the cause; in part, was still due to Bruce Lee’s death.

Despite this ripple effect, Hung forged much of his best work during the late 70’s/early 80’s, before a recession collapse: in this instance it was Dirty Tiger, Crazy Frog – an underrated cult oddity which initially saw the triumvirate talents of Hung, Lau kar Wing and actor/director, Karl Maka amalgamating dynamism under their own ‘Gar-Bo’ motion picture standard for an inventive, wacky co-production written by Eric Tsang (Blockhead from the Lucky Stars series), who himself would become an important tour-de-force producer/film-maker after toiling for many years as an unlikely, yet efficient, stuntman.

Indeed, a radical departure from playing formulaic minor supports (Hapkido) or obnoxious villains (Shaolin Plot), Hung stars opposite Wing as the second [of] titular character. Ostensibly, he was more than happy to be a celluloid victim, counterbalancing Wing’s laconic and devious bounty hunter, Tiger – who from the outset is hired by Frog’s elderly domineering spouse to recapture her toyboy husband after he deliberately absconds (to live a lucrative lifestyle) with a priceless heirloom – the invincible armour. Basically, a chain-mail vest designed to withstand blades and spears.

Once the two main protagonist are introduced via a sequence of hilarious set pieces, the madcap premise divertingly focuses on the invincible armour, which itself transforms from being a superficial accoutrement into as much a screen fixture as Tiger and Frog’s inimical relationship or Hung’s trademark self mockery – notably in reference to his weight. Soon everyone from opportunists to lowly criminals (the obligatory Dean Shek in brain damaged overdrive ) desire the armour for their own agenda – including a con woman (Meg Lam) with detachable limbs that has to be seen for pure entertainment value – until the real antagonist, White Crab (Li Hoi San), intercedes ownership of the armour with intentions of subjugating the martial arts world. This scenario forces an uneasy alliance between Tiger and Frog, each creating tactics to disarm Crab of his prized possession… Who will win?!

In spite of harsh criticism, both locally and internationally: Dirty Tiger, Crazy Frog was at the time, a picture that surprisingly took the mickey out of the whole martial arts genre; an alternative angle Maka personally liked to dally around with, especially being NYU educated. His favoured motifs was to parody the contrasts between each characters’ situations in such an opaque manner, the end results always looked refreshing and original even though Maka was directly inspired by western paradigms, not generally recognized nor understood in the east, which is probably why much of his work often appears out of place from the traditional mindset. Nevertheless, ‘bravado’ – an ingredient Chinese audiences were more attuned to in the 70’s, had no relative importance throughout Maka’s sustained idiosyncratic career. It was all about ‘banter’ before ‘brawling’: a nonconformist attitude that attracted both Wing and Hung in consequence to a steady workload of blood, gore and protracted fight choreography.

Verdict: Unlike its follow-up successor The Odd Couple (1979), a weapons-laden masterpiece pre-dating Liu Chia Liang’s Legendary Weapons of Kung Fu (1983): Dirty Tiger, Crazy Frog is a highly imaginative distraction conglomerating Laurel & Hardy-type humour with Three Stooges-influenced physicality.

Matthew Le-feuvre’s Rating: 8/10

The post Dirty Tiger, Crazy Frog (1978) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“Seven Warriors” DVD Cover

Director: Terry Tong
Writer: Tsang Kan Cheung
Producer: John Sham
Cast: Chen Jing, Adam Cheng, Jacky Cheung, Lisa Chiao Chiao, Elaine Kam, Benz Kong, Philip Kwok, Ben Lam, Tony Leung Chiu Wai, Lo Lieh, Teresa Mo, Max Mok Siu Chung, Shing Fui On, Wu Ma, Sammo Hung
Running Time: 94 min.

By Paul Bramhall

The sterling team over at Well Go USA recently released the little known Hong Kong movie Seven Warriors on both DVD and Blu-ray format, and I got around to watching it this week. First up, I think it’s important to point out that specifically for this release, the back of the sleeve proudly declares – “Legendary actor, stuntman, fight choreographer and pioneer of Hong Kong’s New Wave Movement, Sammo Hung directs (and appears in) a rousing retelling of Akira Kurosawa’s SEVEN SAMURAI.” Ok, let’s just get this out of the way, Sammo doesn’t direct it, in fact the same sleeve features the movie credits just a few inches below, which clearly state ‘Directed by Terry Tong’! As for his appearance, it clocks in at less than two minutes, and those two minutes take place before the opening credits have even finished rolling, so this is not a movie to purchase based on the Sammo Hung factor.

That being said, it’s hard to get mad at the Well Go guys, as apparently even at the time of its release it used Sammo’s name to appeal to a wider audience, so a quarter of a century later not a whole lot has changed. The claim that he is the director though is just a brazen lie, he has no connection to the production in any way with the exception of his few seconds of screen time. So, what does that leave us with? Hollywood gave us its own take on Akira Kurosawa’s classic 1954 movie, The Seven Samurai, with the 1960 western The Magnificent Seven, and a whole 35 years after the original, Hong Kong decided to try its hand at retelling the tale with Seven Warriors.

In place of feudal Japan and the wild west of America, Seven Warriors transports the tale to 1920’s China, when warlords were ruling the land. When a rural village that relies on its annual harvest to get by becomes the target of a group of marauding bandits, they decide the only way to survive is to head into the city and try to enlist some soldiers to help them put up a fight against their attackers.

I would hazard a guess that part of the reason Seven Warriors has become a largely forgotten production is its failure to live up to the promise such an all-start cast bring to the table. Director Tong enlists Shaw Brothers legend Lo Lieh as the villainous head bandit (you know he’s bad because half his face is covered by a mole, complete with protruding hairs), the star of the Venoms crew Philip Kwok plays the villager on a mission to enlist help to defend his village, and then you have the titular seven themselves. Lead by Adam Cheng, he’s backed up by Tony Leung Chiu-wai, Max Mok, Wu Ma, Jacky Cheung, Shing Fui On, and Ben Lam.

Expectations should be duly set for a showdown which involves plenty of heroic bloodshed and kung-fu, but these expectations are only partly met. For an hour of its run time Seven Warriors plays out focusing on the plight of the village and the formation of the seven warriors, while minor conflicts are developed between certain characters which frankly, do little to generate interest or hold attention. Thankfully, actors like Tony Leung Chiu-wai, even at this early stage of his career, have enough charisma and charm to make proceedings watchable, and events move along towards the big showdown at an acceptable pace.

The big showdown of course, without kidding ourselves, it what we’re all here for. Sammo Hung may be nowhere to be seen, but Jacky Cheung has just spent a good portion of the run time teaching the villagers how to fight, one of which is Kwok, and Ben Lam has been introduced as being deadly accurate with a throwing knife, and not too shabby with his feet either. It’s time to see them let loose. Unfortunately, that time never really comes. Yes a lot of bullets are exchanged, and a mounted machine gun is even thrown into the mix, which evokes thoughts of both The Wild Bunch and Boxer Rebellion, but somehow all of the action comes across as rather perfunctory. Those looking for their martial arts fix will be left most disappointed of all, as Kwok doesn’t get to do anything, and Lam’s skills are used for a mere few seconds.

Seven Warriors isn’t a bad movie per se, it just lacks any stand out moments to elevate it above being anything other than average. None of the actors put in particularly poor performances, they just all have movies were they’ve done much better. If you want to check out Tong Leung Chiu-wai playing the naive do-gooder there’s My Heart is That Eternal Rose, if you want to see Ben Lam fully let loose there’s Angry Ranger, and if you want to see Max Mok busting out the moves there’s Night Life Hero. A director like Terry Tong was never going to mistaken as being in the same league as Akira Kurosawa, and indeed he only sat in the directors chair for a total of 7 movies, the most famous of which is 1982’s Coolie Killer. Here he has all the ingredients for what could be a fantastic adventure romp, but it never really seems to get past the simmering stage, when what we all want to see is things boiling over.

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 7/10

The post Seven Warriors (1989) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“Red Trousers: The Life of Hong Kong Stuntmen” DVD Cover

Director: Robin Shou
Writer: Robin Shou
Cast: Beatrice Chia, Keith Cooke, Hakim Alston, Craig Reid, Sammo Hung, Mike Leeder, Lau Kar-leung, Wong Chi Man, Leung Chi Ming, Monique Marie Ozimkowshi, Jude Poyer, Ng Wing Sum, Ridley Tsui
Running Time: 93 min.

By Ningen

This review is based on a special screening of Red Trousers: The Life of Hong Kong Stuntmen, where Robin Shou is the guest of honor. Before the screening began, Dr. Craig Reid, one of the stuntmen, introduced himself as the white guy who got beaten up in many kung fu flicks. He said Robin would be late.

So anyway, in terms of style, Lost Time – a short, which was part of the documentary, to illustrate how stuntmen prepare for and ultimately perform in modern martial arts films – came off like a low-budget Blade, and did not deliver in terms of acting. If it was longer, they might have had a better chance to flesh out the characters. Although they did manage to slip in some decent dialogue at times.

There were too many close-ups on fight scenes, most likely in an attempt to market it to an American market. A lot of the footage was re-looped, which made it tedious. While the Lost Time wasn’t anything to cry about, the behind-the-scenes segments for the short helped appreciate what the stunt people went through to get a decent action sequence. The meat of the film is the documentary, where you learn about the trials and tribulations and personal lives of the stunt-people of all ages. You come to admire them for wanting to achieve their dreams in the face of failure; and you wince in pain every time they screw up a take and get hurt.

The more amusing segments in Red Trousers were the ones with Lau Kar Lung, where he proudly reminisces about the “good old days” of stuntwork, while they skip to B&W clips of what I assume were wuxia films (a lot of the “effects” in those clips are reminiscent of Flash Gordon, but the fight scenes are something any chop-sockyphile can relate to; they’re as energetic and coordinated as anything today). Lau himself talks about the hardships of working on the set where they constantly challenge you, from making you wear clothes which weren’t washed, to fighting without any padding.

But those pale in comparison to the hardships that former students in Peking Opera had to endure, from not being able to cry when doing a particular acrobatic exercise, to attending to their teachers each morning. Ironically, since Peking Opera is now voluntary, the hardships are outside of the school, as today’s students use their skills to seek better employment opportunities in the movies. The actual Opera performances involve more than just fancy choreography, but singing as well (you have to admire a guy who can flip very fast and sing in a high-pitch voice).

After the film ended, the audience (which was 3/4 full) applauded, and some drummers came in to play during the credits. Robin Shou finally shows up, and is wearing a green and white plaid shirt and white pants, and talks about how he had wanted to do a movie like Red Trousers for years, because he wanted to focus on his humble beginnings as a stuntman which gave him his chance in Hollywood. He talked about how many of the stunt-people worked for very little money, and cared more about their work than being paid extra. Plus he wanted audiences to be aware of the origins behind today’s HK-influenced films such as The Matrix and X-Men.

When asked about where Bruce Lee fit into the film, Robin said that he didn’t recall Bruce doing any opera work. His expertise was Wushu, Wing Chun and salsa dancing.

I asked Robin about Mortal Kombat 3 and any future projects. He said he wanted to do Mortal Kombat 3, but he joked that they didn’t know where to go with it, since The Matrix went everywhere. But his next project would involve Filipino stick-fighting in a cage match.

Finally, when asked about the opportunities for children in Peking Opera, he said they have as much of a chance to get a job as anyone in L.A. (which he called a city where 99.9% of the people are non-working actors). But what mattered to the students was being able to do something which would make their parents proud. Shou’s philosophy is that even when one isn’t working or practicing, they’re still developing themselves. So all in all, the experience was a positive one, as is the film. In an industry where there’s a lot of back-stabbing to get ahead, it’s refreshing to see a group of performers working together to insure a decent film.

Ningen’s Rating: 7.5/10

The post Red Trousers: The Life of Hong Kong Stuntmen (2004) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“Zu: Warriors From Magic Mountain” Japanese Theatrical Poster

Director: Tsui Hark
Producer: Leonard Ho
Cast: Yuen Biao, Mang Hoi, Adam Cheng, Damian Lau, Sammo Hung, Moon Lee, Brigitte Lin, Norman Chu, Randy Man, Ha Kwong-Li, Tsui Hark
Running Time: 98 min.

By Numskull

An unrestrained martial arts fantasy extravaganza with ample tongue-in-cheek humor delivered with a smug “ain’t I a genius?” attitude by overpraised director Tsui Hark. This sugar rush of a movie bombards the audience with one special effects-laden action sequence after another until the whole production becomes a blur, largely devoid of truly memorable moments and remarkable only on account of its excesses. Antiquated special effects pop up all over the place as “fish out of water” Yuen Biao encounters numerous mystics and warriors with all sorts of supernatural powers (like a guy who can use his facial hairs as extendable appendages) and undertakes a quest to defeat the wicked Blood Demon and bring an end to a senseless war between rival factions who fight because…uh, they don’t like each other. I guess.

The storyline is (I assume) steeped in Chinese folklore and loaded with geek-friendly minutiae to which, I’m fairly certain, people more knowledgeable than myself attach all sorts of significance. I’d find out more, but frankly, I didn’t find the movie entertaining enough to justify the effort…and this is coming from a guy who goes on mini-shopping sprees in the Mythology & Folklore section at Barnes & Noble and was at the top of Mr. White’s Myth & Legend class in high school. The film is reasonably coherent as long as you resist the urge to turn your attention elsewhere, but the breakneck pace and relentlessness of the fantasy elements still make it feel like too much, too quick.

Maybe Tsui Hark should make another Zu movie now that more sophisticated special effects are available. Oh, hey, that’s right, he DID, and it bombed (rightly so, I might add). Oh well. Life is tough when you’re a hack director.

Numskull’s Rating: 5/10

By Vic Nguyen

Tsui Hark directed this groundbreaking special effects extravaganza which is a favorite among fans of Hong Kong’s fantasy genre. Features an all-star cast with names such as Yuen Biao, Sammo Hung, Meng Hoi, Brigitte Lin, Moon Lee, and Adam Cheng being the most memorable of the bunch. Although the special effects might seem amateurish by today’s standards, they are still impressive considering the budget, and the sheer imagination that the film possesses makes it an exhilirating thrillride until the end credits. A must for any Hong Kong enthusiast.

Vic Nguyen’s Rating: 8/10

The post Zu: Warriors from Magic Mountain (1983) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“Choy Lee Fut: The Speed of Light” (aka Fight the Fight) American DVD Cover

Director: Tommy Law
Co-director: Sam Wong
Cast: Sammo Hung, Sammy Hung, Kane Kosugi, Lau Kar Wing, Yuen Wah, Sam Wong Ming Sing, Sam Wong Ming Sing, Sam Wong Ming Sing, Ian Powers
Running Time: 92 min.

By HKFanatic

As far as I can tell, “Choy Lee Fut” was produced for two reasons: 1.) to serve as the debut starring vehicle of Sammo Hung’s son, Sammy Hung and 2.) to introduce movie-goers to the martial art of Choy Lee Fut. If so, the film is a failure on both counts.

“Choy Lee Fut” never once convinced me that Sammy Hung has inherited an iota of his father’s talent. Whereas Sammo Hung busted his ass for years to get out of Jackie Chan’s shadow by directing, choreographing, and starring in a bunch of classic Hong Kong action movies, Sammy Hung barely registers onscreen. Although he recites his lines and conveys minimal emotion when necessary, Sammy doesn’t come across as much of a fighting force. Aside from a few flying kicks during his training sequences, I wasn’t impressed by Sammy’s moves. In a post-Donnie Yen and Tony Jaa world (this flick even has a shout-out to Tony), you’ve just got to try harder.

As for the plot, its your basic inspirational sports drama a la “Best of the Best” as the entire film leads up to a martial arts competition between Sammy Hung’s school and the evil Pan-American Corporation. The movie maintains a simple worldview in which the Western lifestyle and corporate mentality are seen as universally negative; in fact, “Choy Lee Fut” opens with a veiled call for Chinese expatriates to return to their homes in Mainland China. Kane Kosugi is at least given fair treatment as a Japanese citizen spending time in China, though the film implicitly states that Chinese martial arts are superior to Karate.

Die-hard fans of 80’s ninja movies will recognize Kane Kosugi as the son of Cannon Video icon Shane Kosugi and Kane is easily the best thing about this movie. He’s the only actor who seems to invest any seriousness into his role and he comes across as the most talented martial artist of the bunch. The penultimate fight scene in which he squares off against American brawler Ian Powers is clearly the highlight of the entire production.

When you watch Donnie Yen in “Ip Man” or Jet Li in any number of his films, you become convinced that their respective fighting styles are the best in the world, whether it’s Wing Chun or Wushu. “Choy Lee Fut” aims to similarly impress by bringing its titular style to the big screen for the first time, but I felt unmoved by the fighting on display. In fact, two of the three Choy Lee Fut students who compete at the end of the movie serve as glorified punching bags for their opponents. I wasn’t exactly running to my local dojo to sign up for Choy Lee Fut classes after watching this.

Lionsgate has slapped Sammo Hung on the cover of the DVD in order to sell more copies in North America but, buyer beware, Sammo has only about ten minutes of screentime in the entire movie. That said, I don’t think even Sammo could have saved this flick. He has a brief fight scene with his old Peking Opera buddy Yuen Wah (“Eastern Condors,” “Kung Fu Hustle”) but it’s all wires and computer effects since the two masters are most likely too up there in age to duke it out anymore.

Sam Wong, who was so ferocious against Jackie Chan in “Supercop,” has good screen presence but isn’t allowed to cut loose in front of the camera. You can mostly say the same for Dennis To of “The Legend is Born – Ip Man” fame, who has a brief cameo. For a movie that’s stuffed to the gills with famous Chinese martial artists, it’s a shame that no one gets to break a sweat and really show the audience what they can do during its entire 90 minute runtime.

Let’s be real, we action buffs watch these movies for the fight scenes. When the fighting sucks, it puts the rest of the film’s faults in sharp relief: the predictable storyline, canned dialogue, phoned-in performances, and sappy music stick out all the more. I can put up with a lot if you impress me with your action choreography (see: “Champions,” also from Lionsgate), but “Choy Lee Fut” suffers from over-edited, over-directed fight scenes and limp choreography. Only the biggest gluttons for martial arts movie punishment will find anything to enjoy here. Avoid at all costs.

HKFanatic’s Rating: 3/10

The post Choy Lee Fut | aka Fight the Fight (2011) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.