“World of Desire” Theatrical Poster

Director: Chao Chen-Kuo
Cast: Robert Mak, William Ho, Blackie Ko, Shou-Liang, Norman Tsui Siu-Keung, Chiang Ta-Chuan, Suen Man, Chen Kuan-Tai, Ng Naam-Yiu, Xie Jian-Wen
Running Time: 74 min.

By Paul Taggart

In these days of boutique labels releasing Asian cinema hits and relative obscurities, there are still those who swim in murky waters where even Godfrey Ho fans wouldn’t swim. It’s a strange place, full of bottomless pits of crappiness, tonal whiplash, fountains of sleaze, geysers of violence and the detritus of cinema. It is the land of the Taiwan exploitation film. Usually rougher round the edges than even the similar Hong Kong movies, but just as worth checking out. Perhaps the best known Taiwan 90s entries into this type would be the gangster squib sleaze sagas of Hunting List or Requital. But they are the peak, and something like World of Desire is far from those lofty heights and lies broken and twisted at the bottom, mumbling to itself incoherently.

You would think World of Desire is a cheapie 74-minute soft-score film from its poster and title, but it’s actually a cheapie gangster film with nudie bits. The plot is pretty basic, concerning three night club hostesses and a hoodlum who end up on the run from a gang after an incident at a hotel involving an old man, one of the women and a pistol. Various shenanigans ensure for the rest of the run-time mostly set around a night club the quartet end up running whilst trying to evade the local mobsters gunning for them.

But what’s so bizarre about World of Desire is it’s cast – William Ho you’d expect in something like this, it was his bread and butter – but not cameos from Blackie Ko, Chen Kuan Tai and Norman Tsui. Norman looks rather dishevelled whenever he appears on screen and it’s rather off-putting to see him squeeze some poor woman’s arse for 40 seconds, but kind of funny at the same time. Thankfully the viewer is spared any extended sex scene with Norman, but he sure makes the most of his bottom fondling opportunity and there’s a shot of him lying on a bed where he seems rather too excited under a towel he is wearing. The rest of the guys mostly escape with their dignity intact.

The lead is Robert Mak who is rather bland but appears in a lot of gangster orientated Taiwan films of this era and in more than one he always seems to end up wearing a black vest for some reason. World of Desire spends a lot of time trying to convince that Bob is Mr. Sex, but he’s more Barnaby Jones than Tom Jones. The actresses aren’t memorable at all, and sadly due to their lack of any characterisation. I had time telling them apart as they mostly appear on screen all together, like a female three stooges but lacking any comedic timing.

World of Desire’s lack of budget is evident, near enough the whole film takes place in garish nightclubs, musty pubs or messy living rooms with far too many shots of mahjong players. At one point William Ho and his gang have a meeting in what looks to be a cramped karaoke booth, diminishing any menace the scene is supposed to portray. The soundtrack seems comprised by wonky keyboard demos, one of which is an annoying machine gun funk synth tune. It’s still kind of fun though, the action is shoddy but there’s plenty of it scattered throughout and the exploitation content is pretty high, heavy on the nasty repetitive lady slapping and one of the women is randomly forced to drink wine out of a shoe at gunpoint. Nudity is ample but kept to brief moments, despite the lurid title, the focus is indeed as a low-rent gangster film, one that wishes to make you believe a household metal bin can be used to deflect machine gun fire.

It’s entertaining crap but William Ho exits too early and leaves a large hole in the film’s collective charisma which it stumbles on past due to it’s relative shortness. Not really one for anyone except lovers of trash, World of Desire is a scuzzy curiosity.

Paul Taggart’s Rating: 4/10

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“The Era of Vampires” DVD Cover

AKA: Vampire Hunters
Director: Wellson Chin
Cast: Michael Chow Man Kin, Danny Chan Kwok Kwan, Ken Cheung Chi Yiu, Lam Suet, Anya, Horace Lee Wai Sing, Yu Rong Guang, Lee Lik Chi, Wong Yat Fei, Ji Chun Hua, Lee Kin Yan, Chen Kuan Tai, Shut Mei Yee
Running Time: 107 min. 

By Paul Bramhall 

In 2002 it had been 10 years since the last entry in the popular Mr. Vampire franchise, with the suitably titled Mr. Vampire 1992, an underwhelming effort that arguably should have been the final nail in the coffin for the hopping vampire genre that the original kicked off in 1985 (it wasn’t, with a few dregs still filtering through over the next couple of years). Considering producer and scriptwriter Tsui Hark’s success from that same era – reviving the kung fu genre with the Once Upon a Time in China series, and reimagining the wuxia flick into kinetic wire work fuelled extravaganzas – it likely made sense to see if he had the same Midas touch when it came to hopping vampires. So it was in 2002 the undead returned in The Era of the Vampires.

What audiences they returned for makes The Era of the Vampires an interesting curiosity. It would take 20 years for it to be released in Hong Kong, finally arriving on Blu-ray and DVD in 2022, with the most accessible way of viewing it until this point being in a shortened version called Vampire Hunters distributed in the U.S. by Columbia Tri-Star. Reducing the 107-minute runtime down to 89, chances are they were hoping to bank in on the popularity that John Carpenter’s 1998 feature Vampires saw on home video (also released by Columbia Tri-Star), and it’s not outside the realms of possibility that Hark himself was influenced by Carpenter’s latter-day entry in his filmography.

We don’t have Tsui Hark in the director’s seat though, and considering he was coming off the back of helming the messy The Legend of Zu (and was likely filming Black Mask 2: City of Masks at the same time), that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Instead the directorial reins are handed over to Wellson Chin, a director probably best known as the man behind the 4 entries in the Inspector Wears Skirts franchise. After the last instalment in 1992, Chin almost exclusively worked in the ghost genre for the rest of the 90’s, so from that perspective he probably seemed like a good fit to helm a hopping vampire revival. Notably The Era of the Vampires would be Chin’s penultimate movie as a director, only returning in 2013 for The Extreme Fox (another ghost movie), then seemingly going into retirement.

The plot focuses on a group of 4 vampire hunters in 17^th century China, played by Ken Chang (Extreme Challenge, Sha Po Lang), Michael Chow (City War, Vampire Family), Lam Suet (The Midnight After, The Constable) and Danny Chan (Keep Calm and Be a Superstar, Kung Fu League). The foursome are led by Mainland martial arts stalwart Ji Chun-Hua (Tai Chi Boxer, New Shaolin Temple), and when a powerful general rises from the grave as a kind of super vampire, the group must use all of their skills to bring him down.

After tracking the vampire to an isolated residence that’s believed to be haunted, overseen by a creepy Yu Rong-Guang (Iron Monkey, Fox Hunter), the 4 hunters disguise themselves as servants so that they can stay close and hopefully lure the vampire out. Matters aren’t helped when its revealed Rong-Guang is a specialist in preserving the dead with wax, and like a distant relative of Norman Bates, has taken to preserving the bodies of any family members that pass away so that it seems like they’re still around. Proceedings are complicated further when Rong-Guang marries his son off to Anya (2002, Naked Weapon), who it turns out is actually the sister of a dastardly villain played by Horace Lee (The New Option, Ultimate Fight), who intends to steal the hidden stash of gold somewhere on the property.

While the story may seem like it has a lot happening, onscreen the various goings on are really only there to provide the ingredients for what feels like a movie more steeped in the HK style of the 80’s and early 90’s than a production that came out in the same year as Infernal Affairs. Essentially all we need to know is that there are a whole heap of wax preserved corpses on the property that can become vampires, there’s a villain with really powerful kung-fu who wants to find a stack of gold, and of course in true HK style, one of the hunters finds himself falling for Anya. 

While The Era of Vampires may not do a lot to bring things like characterisation and plot motivations into the new millennium, what it does do right is lean more into the horror elements of the genre, utilising the advances in technology over the last decade to create an entertainingly powerful vampire. Camera tricks and even some effective CGI make the vampire a suitably imposing presence, and the way it has its own gravitational pull – used to suck blood through its victims facial crevices – adds an element of genuine horror that’s rarely been seen in the genre before (and wouldn’t be treated as straight faced again until 2013’s Rigor Mortis). Chin throws in some effective jump scares, and most surprisingly doesn’t shy away from ramping up the gore, with bodies often reduced to steaming piles of shredded flesh. There’s a genuine danger felt here that’s a world away from its 80’s and 90’s hopping vampire brethren.

The hopping vampire lore is also expanded on considerably, explaining that if someone passes away while still harbouring negative energy, that energy will continue to build up even when dead which is what eventually leads to the corpses coming back to life. There’s also the revelation that being covered in cold water prevents the vampires from detecting your presence, which onscreen is played out in a kind of Predator-esque sequence, just swap Arnold Schwarzenegger, mud, and an alien for Ji Chun-Hua, water, and a vampire.

The finale in particular is a hoot, as Chun-Hua and his 4 disciples team up to take down the vampire for good. Playing out like a mix of new wave wuxia meets the Evil Dead, the practical effects used for damage inflicted on the vampire are suitably icky, as limbs are severed, torsos sliced in half, and heads decapitated. I was half expecting Ash to turn up with a chainsaw. It’s difficult to believe Tsui Hark didn’t have some hand in this sequence, as the creativity on display seems typical of the auteurs style, and I couldn’t help but be reminded of similar practical effects work found in the likes of 1992’s Wicked City, another movie which Hark produced and wrote but didn’t direct.

Amongst all of the vampire shenanigans, there is also some legitimate martial arts on display, with much of the action incorporating wushu stylings. On action choreographer duty is Tony Tam Chun-To, who came with experience of working on the likes of Bloody Brotherhood and Legend of the Wolf. He adjusts his style well here to create a handful of fight scenes that allow the likes of the underseen Horace Lee and Ken Chang to go up against Yu Rong-Guang in separate one on ones. Crisply shot, and utilising swords in a way that we probably have 2000’s Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon to thank for, the scenes may be fleeting but they deliver the intended exclamation marks when they arrive. For old-school fans Chen Kuan-Tai (Four Riders, Heroes Two) shows up as a vampire wrangler sporting a killer moustache, and he also gets a chance to go up against Lee (before letting the vampires under his control do the heavy lifting).

It’d be wrong not to mention the bizarrely tagged on ending, which sees Michael Chow, Lam Suet, and Danny Chan move into the property together and become opium junkies out of nowhere. It’s as abrupt and left of field as it sounds, and I’m still trying to figure out exactly what it’s meaning is in the context of everything that’s come before. Whatever the case though, while The Era of Vampires may not have done for HK cinema in the 2000’s what its title wanted to (and indeed was apparently so out of touch with local audience tastes of the time that it didn’t even get released), here’s hoping 20 years later it can find a more appreciative audience. 

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 7/10

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cc9gAzoW31U

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“Death Ring” Tai Seng DVD Cover

Director: Chang Cheh
Co-director: Lu Feng
Cast: Chen Kuan Tai, Lee Chung Yat, Ti Lung, Chan Sing, Lu Feng, Lau Fong Sai, Keung Hon
Running Time: 90 min.

By Paul Bramhall

Director Chang Cheh was rightfully known as the Godfather of Hong Kong action cinema, and after the Shaw Brothers studio wound down its movie production, he still managed to crank out a further 11 in Taiwan and Mainland China. Starting with 1983’s Attack of the Joyful Goddess and ending with 1993’s Ninja in Ancient China, Cheh’s post-Shaw Brothers work makes for eclectic viewing. Health issues resulted in a multi-generation cast of talent that Cheh had helped nurture coming together for his 1984 movie Shanghai Thirteen, a production which was intended to generate enough profit to allow the director to retire comfortably. But with an ambition to helm 100 movies, Cheh ended up using the funds to continue to direct. While 1986’s Great Shanghai 1937 and 1988’s Cross the River have remained elusive, I’d be willing to safely wager that Death Ring is the rotten tomato in Cheh’s post Shaw Brothers output.

Considering it came out the same year as The Shanghai Thirteen and the underlying reasons for that movie’s existence, it’s perhaps little wonder that Death Ring ends up as an incomprehensibly plodding mess. Most sources state Cheh was only in the directors’ chair for the opening third, with the rest of the movie being picked up by Venoms alumni Lu Feng to attempt to complete on his own in Thailand. This would make sense, since the first 30 minutes almost seem to come from a different movie altogether, with a loosely held together narrative that recalls the similar stop-start approach that was taken with Cheh’s own Ten Tigers of Kwantung.

On paper, the plot should read something like this – a young fighter played by Lee Chung-Yat (The Nine Demons, Lucky Seven 2) is in love with Chen Kuan-Tai’s (Boxer from Shantung, Heroes Two) daughter, however there’s a problem – she’s from the Shaolin clan and he’s from the Pai Mei clan. Instead she’s being forced to marry the arrogant Cheung Tai-Lun (The Big Rascal, Yellow Rain), whose negative attributes seem to be compensated by the fact he’s from the same clan. After a confrontation in Kuan-Tai’s family home sees Tai-Lun end up dead, Chung-Yat is given an ultimatum – the matter won’t go any further, but he’s never to let himself be seen again. Cue the perfect opportunity for a return trip to Thailand after Chang Cheh’s last visit in 1971 (for the iron triangle flick Duel of Fists), as Chung-Yat heads to Bangkok to cheerily take part in the Songkran water festival and generally look like he’s having a good time.

As it turns out though inside he’s miserable, so after 3 years he sneaks back to meet Kuan-Tai’s daughter. When he asks her what she’s been doing for all this time, she explains that she’s just been sitting in her room missing him, and that she wants to bear his child so that she’s not lonely. 3 years is a long time to just be sat in a room, so being a stand-up guy Chung-Yat duly obliges, then in one of Death Ring’s more hilarious moments, after the deed is done he confesses he’s also got a woman in Thailand! All of this takes place in the first half hour, and already any realistic concept of time has gone completely out of the window. The legendary Chan Sing (Black Panther, The Iron Fisted Monk) plays Tai-Lun’s father, and when Chung-Yat first makes his escape we see Sing and his clan stomping through the woodland looking for him. 3 years on, and they’re still stomping through the woodland, clearly believing that persistence is the key.

Despite the shoddy filmmaking on display, Chung-Yat’s return does mark the best scene in Death Ring, where the restaurant he’s eating in is accosted by Ti Lung’s (Vengeance!, Four Riders) pimped out gangster and his polite lackeys. I never knew I needed to see Ti Lung decked out in an all-white suite featuring a trendy black cape, a feathered hat, stud earrings, and a pair of accompanying floozies, but I now know that I did, and you will too. When I say polite, Lung and his gang demand $50 from everyone in the restaurant, but with the caveat that if they have less than $50 they don’t need to give anything. I’m not sure how long his character is supposed to have been a gangster for, but I’m sure it’s not a schtick that would last too long with such an amiable approach. However when Chung-Yat throws down against Lung’s lackeys to stop them extorting other customers, Lung expresses him admiration for his fighting talents.

It’s then that Chan Sing’s 3-year forest hike comes to an end, and he finally arrives at the restaurant to find Chung-Yat right before him. For reasons never clearly explained, Lung offers to fight Sing on Chung-Yat’s behalf, which offers up the 2^nd chance to see the pair of kung fu cinema legends go at it within the same year (they also face off in The Shanghai Thirteen). Hilariously, in fitting with his character, Lung takes the time to put on a pair of black gloves before he starts the fight, I’m guessing to ensure his manicure doesn’t get damaged. With action choreographed by both Lu Feng and baby venom Chiu Gwok (Five Element Ninjas, The Weird Man), there’s something joyous about watching a Ti Lung versus Chang Sing face-off under a more snappy mid-80’s choreography style than we’re used to seeing from much of their 70’s work, and their fight is a stand-out.

Sadly that’s where the fun ends, and seems to be the limit of Chang Cheh’s involvement. It’s debatable why filming never went any further, and equally so if we’d get to see anymore of Chen Kuan-Tai, Ti Lung, or Chan Sing, but for the remaining hour things become particularly torturous. The narrative jumps back to Thailand, only now we’re in contemporary 1984, as we follow the now grown-up son of Chung-Yat who’s travelled there to find his father. Chung-Yat’s son is played by, wait for it – Chung Yat – and his mission to find his father is derailed when he befriends a Thai boxer played by local actor Chatchai Plengpanich (Bangkok Robbery, Bang Rajan 2). It’s not too much of a spoiler to say that the pair turn out to be half-brothers, with Plengpanich being the son of Chung-Yat’s Thai woman (who we never actually see).

The plot from here becomes an almost incessant flow of dull Thai boxing matches. The curse of many a Hong Kong movie shot in Thailand (see also Kickboxer’s Tears and Dreaming the Reality), while the art of kung fu was heavily modified and refined for the screen fighting aesthetic over several decades, Muay Thai never really got the same treatment until 2003’s Ong Bak. As a result, most Hong Kong action movies shot in Thailand tend to suffer from overly long Muay Thai matches full of repetitive and basic choreography, and Death Ring (a direct reference to the matches in question) is guilty on all counts. The plot about finding the father is all but forgotten about, and instead becomes focused on defeating a vicious Muay Thai boxer called Leopard (of whom doesn’t seem to be credited anywhere, much like a lot of the cast).

To Lu Feng’s credit, he does at some point seem to remember that the movie needs to end, so should attempt to wrap things up. To this end he quickly casts himself as Chan Sing’s other son, which allows Sing to play out an impossible to take seriously overwrought death bed scene, where he tells Feng to take the revenge he never could. This cross-generational pursuit of revenge should be at the heart of the narrative, with Feng in the role of the main protagonist that Chung-Yat has to face off against, but in reality Feng’s character barely gets 5 minutes screen time. He turns up with 2 lackeys at the end of the penultimate match against Leopard, and we at least get to see the venoms legend throw down against Chung-Yat in an enjoyable fight. It even includes an early version of the move Tony Jaa would popularise, wherein an opponent staddles the others shoulders like a piggyback, and delivers a barrage of elbows to the head.

However even this brief moment of enjoyment is ruined by a bizarre final freeze frame that not only signals the end of the fight (which I honestly thought was just getting started), but also the end of the movie altogether. A consistently confounding experience, one that feels like 2 separate movies have been thrown together with little regard for where the focus of the actual plot should be, in the end I daresay Death Ring barely even qualifies as a movie. 

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 3.5/10

Beware of spoilers in the following clip from Death Ring: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n8FHfV-3sCM

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“Iceman: The Time Traveler” Theatrical Poster

AKA: Iceman 2
Director: Raymond Yip
Cast: Donnie Yen, Eva Huang, Wang Bao Qiang, Simon Yam, Yu Kang, Yasuaki Kurata, Maggie Jiang, Hans Marrero, Hee Ching Paw, Minowa Yasufumi, Chen Kuan-Tai
Running Time: 88 min.

By Paul Bramhall

It’s been a long time since I watched a movie that left me so dumbfounded, I found myself staring at a blank screen for 10 minutes, struggling to figure out how best to begin a review of it. Iceman: The Time Traveler has the honour of being that movie, a sequel to 2014’s Iceman 3D, which is no longer 3D or directed by Law Wing-Cheong, despite being filmed at the same time as the first instalment. Ironically, 10 minutes is also how long the sequel spends giving us a recap of what happened all those years ago, which serves as a kind of Iceman 3D best of, as we get to relive the infamous shield snowboarding scene and bridge battle. Such a recap should be welcomed, except when you realise that the runtime is a measly 87 minutes, which means that what’s left could well be classified as “a little over an hour”.

Allegedly it wasn’t always that way, several sources (including IMDB) list the runtime as 104 minutes, which begs the question of how almost 20 minutes went missing in action? According to a post on the movies official Weibo blog, posted in November last year, it was because Yen “deleted scenes of various actors to highlight his status as the absolute main character, and that the deletions led the film to run only 87 minutes with a scattershot plot.” Not only that, the post also pointed the finger at Yen for interfering with the work of the action director and production crew, changing dialogue, refusing to do re-shoots or wear wigs, had an arrogant attitude, and didn’t help with the promotion. Not exactly glowing praise, but at the same time somewhat familiar, with Yen having similar well documented production strife on the likes of Wing Chun, Iron Monkey 2, and Special ID. How much of it is true? We’ll likely never know.

So as Yen’s legal team went into battle with the producers, the movie itself landed on cinema screens with a resoundingly dull thud. While Iceman 3D was critically mauled, I actually found it to be a charmingly dumb throwback to 80’s HK cinema (lest we forget the whole sorry saga is supposed to be a remake of The Iceman Cometh). Amidst Yen’s flowing locks, rocket powered piss, and exploding feces, its unashamed ridiculousness somehow won me over. For the sequel, gone is director Law Wing-Cheong and his writing team, and in their place is director Raymond Yip (Anna in Kung fu Land) and writer Manfred Wong (who’s no stranger to working with Yip, they co-directed Bruce Lee, My Brother together). The change in creative forces behind the camera have also made Iceman: The Time Traveler a completely different genre, with the zany comedic tone replaced with heavy handed drama and half baked romance.

You may have noticed by now that I’ve been avoiding a plot description, and you’d be right. In the closing of my review for Iceman 3D I’d mentioned how ”there’s a hint that the whole thing could be wrapped up by the arrival of some evil Japanese again. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that it doesn’t go down that path.” Perhaps unsurprisingly, my fingers were crossed in vain. As expected, Simon Yam’s greedy general turns out to be in cahoots with a Japanese warlord played by the legendary Yasuaki Kurata, and together they murdered everyone in Yen’s village (and framed him for it). Yam goes back in time from present day Beijing (yes, not HK anymore, I’ll get to that soon) along with Yu Kang, with Yen and Eva Huang hot in pursuit. Well, in pursuit at least. Frankly, the plot is so obviously incomplete that it feels like a pointless exercise to attempt to make it sound coherent.

In place of a plot, the audience is bombarded with a number of surreal and brow furrowing moments. Yen’s sudden change of hairstyle is conspicuously drawn attention to by Huang announcing when she sees him, ”Hey, you cut your hair!” His modern hair then becomes a sort of running joke when he goes back to the past, except that none of the jokes are funny. At its most strange, when Yen travels to Beijing to track down his old cohorts, on driving through Tianaman Square he notices the large portrait of Chairman Mao, and salutes it! It’s a cringe worthy moment, not just because of its obvious NRTA pandering connotations, but also in the context of the plot, Yen should have no idea who he is. But in the broader scheme of things, these are the least of Iceman: The Time Traveler’s problems.

Not only has the comedy gone, but bizarrely, the sequel is for the most part actionless. There’s a bewildering sequence when Yen and Huang first travel back in time, and instead of landing back in the Ming era, they arrive on a train in 1927 just in time to stop those damn Japanese from interrogtating the passengers. Soon there’s yells of ”Get out of China!”, and Yen manipulates Huang’s body to take out the troublesome Japanese invaders, in a sequnce which is more Jimmy Wang Yu flailing arms than it is the work of this era’s most innovative fight choreographer. Then just like that, they use the device to go back in time to where they’re actually supposed to be going. What was the point of this whole rail themed Republic era detour? None whatsoever, exept that it filled another 5 minutes, and proves that Yen is capable of kicking Japanese posterior regardless of what era it is because, you know, he’s The Time Traveler!

Things go from bad to worse once proceedings locate back to the past, as Yen returns to his village with Huang in tow, and the already short runtime gets bogged down by the fact that he has a girlfriend there from his own time (played by Maggie Jiang, Call of Heroes). Yes, there’s no better way to maintain the pace of this final chapter to the epic Iceman saga, than by introducting a love triangle! Huang and Jang form an amicable friendship, and are soon teaching each other dance moves from their respective times, however as they both only have eyes for Donnie, how long can it last? The answer comes, but not before we’ve had to sit through not 1, but 2 ballad driven musical montages, as we witness such iconic scenes as Yen and Huang taking a selfie in a bubble filled street for the 2nd time in less than an hour.

At some point around the half way mark, Wang Bao Qiang shows up, presumably because the producers realised he had a significant role in Iceman 3D, so should probably appear somewhere in the sequel. Bao Qiang’s appearance heralds the action highlight of Iceman: The Time Traveler, in a sequence that has him realise he’s been betrayed by his buddy Yu Kang, and the pair face off in the only grounded fight during the whole movie. Their showdown provides a brief moment of hope that things are going to pick up, before proceedings slip back into montony, with the irony not being lost on me that the best action scene doesn’t even have Yen in it. Bao Qiang looked like he was going to form a potential Yuen Biao/Yuen Wah style pairing with Yen back in 2013/14, with them facing off both in the original instalment, and Teddy Chen’s Kung Fu Jungle, however in recent years he’s tended to stick with comedic roles rather than action.

For no logical reason, the finale springs up out of nowhere, with Yen employing a baffling costume change which is never explained, and Huang tagging along (as she’s done for pretty much the entirety of both movies) to face off against Kurata, Yam, and Kang. After an entertaining sword battle (disclaimer: it may only have been entertaining due to everything being so dull previously), the sequence quickly begins to go off the rails, as Kurata and Yen battle it out in space and time on a train. Is it the same train from the random scene earlier on? I have no idea, but for whatever reason, they end up on a train hurtling through the space time continum. It’s right up there with The Myth for finales that completely lose the plot, but I have a feeling they were trying to go for some kung-fu meets Interstellar style vibe. They failed.

All of this nonsense turns out to be a preface for Yen to explain, in voiceover, that he’s basically become the Neo of timetravel. It’s poorly conveyed and makes almost no sense whatsoever, but somehow Yen has become someone who now controls the ability to influence time, hence, he’s ’The Time Traveler’. In all truthfulness, many viewers that embark on watching this trainwreck of a sequel (pun intended), will likely turn it off well before the end, and nobody can blame them. Featuring a plot with more holes than a golf course, action that feels both uninspired and lazy, and characters that feel like they were written on the back of a coaster, Iceman: The Time Traveler is a curious exercise in how wrong a film can go when the vision isn’t clear from the start. If you’re a diehard fan of Donnie Yen, check it out, if anything, it’ll most likely make you feel more forgiving towards Iron Monkey 2. For everyone else, approach with caution.

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 3.5/10

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“Opium and the Kung Fu Master” Chinese Theatrical Poster

AKA: Lightning Fists of Shaolin
Director: Tong Gai (Tang Chia)
Cast: Ti Lung, Chen Kuan Tai, Robert Mak, Philip Ko Fei, Lee Hoi San, Tang Chia, Lau Leanne, Ku Kuan Chung, Alan Chan, Ma Chao, Yuen Wah, Yuen Bun
Running Time: 86 min. 

By Chris Hatcher

Knowing one could be blacklisted in many kung fu cinema circles for making the following statement, here goes nothing: I have always been somewhat underwhelmed by the great Ti Lung.

Now before you reach for the torches and pitchforks, hear me out: I’m aware of Lung’s prowess for dramatic acting… he won the 1986 Golden Horse Best Actor Award for John Woo’s exceptional A Better Tomorrow and the 1999 Hong Kong Film Best Supporting Actor Award for The Kid; I know about his roles as a street-tough brawler in blood baths like Vengeance and The Duel, both of which have merit for fans of director Chang Cheh’s early hack-n-stab formula; and I know his leads in The Delightful Forest and The Blood Brothers exemplify his commanding on-screen presence. So what exactly is my issue with Ti Lung, you might ask?

Let me answer that question with a follow-up question: Where is Ti Lung’s signature film that showcases the best fight choreography of his career while also delivering on the other qualities that made Lung great in the eyes of his fans?

Whether it’s mundane action in an otherwise high-quality film like Avenging Eagle or all-around misfire like Cheh’s Ten Tigers of Kwangtung, many of Ti Lung’s films failed to hone in on his technical skill as a martial arts superstar. The Heroes (aka Story of Chivalry) had some decent action and highlighted Lung’s skill fairly well, but the fights fell a bit on the slow side; The Kung Fu Instructor practically put me to sleep with its humdrum stick fighting scenes; and Shaolin Prince, though outrageously entertaining, focused more on Lung pulling off wire work feats than impressing with his fighting style. In short, Lung has been involved in WAY too many generic battles for a star of his stature.

Well, I’m happy to say I finally found the answer to my question with a recent first-time viewing of Opium and the Kung Fu Master, an excellent film by Tang Chia that highlights all of Lung’s best traits – dramatic thespian, rugged fighter, good screen presence – and tops them off with a truck load of the technically-driven fight choreography I’ve always wanted for him. Opium gives us more of the brilliance of Lung’s brief but fantastic hand-to-hand fighting in Shaolin Temple (aka Death Chamber); more of the speed he demonstrated in the fierce weapons play of The Deadly Breaking Sword; and more of a reason to become a Ti Lung fan some 33 years after his heyday. Better late than never I always say.

My initial thought while viewing Opium was, “How did I miss this one after all these years?!” The likely reason spawns from once hearing it was a sequel to Ten Tigers of Kwangtung and immediately dismissing it without further research. That was my mistake because Opium is not a sequel to that snoozer, but merely a telling of how the leader of the Ten Tigers overcame an opium addiction to rescue the town he had sworn to protect. Lung portrays the Ten Tigers leader in both films (though differently named in each).

In this particular story, Lung’s Tieh Chiao San is a kung fu master and militia adviser who garners the utmost respect from his students and local townspeople. His presence strikes fear in the hearts of criminals as witnessed in an opening skirmish with Golden Cat (played by the excellent Philip Ko). The brief encounter puts Lung in a light I’ve rarely seen as every strike and block is delivered with a ferocity that signals greater things to come in the fight department. (Finally… signs of the Ti Lung the old school kung fu world needs AND deserves!)

Of course, Golden Cat escapes and reports the trouble with Tieh to his master, Yung Feng (Chen Kuan Tai). Cat wants to deal with Tieh, but Yung quickly reminds him why they’re here… for opium. More specially, to open a local opium den and earn bank while ruining the lives of people they hook on the drug. Throw in a couple of business partners played by Ku Kuan Chung and Lee Hoi San and the foursome make for a pretty damn good troop of villains.

Screenwriter Ying Wong could have kept his story as simple as local hero takes on drug gang, but instead throws in the interesting twist of depicting Tieh as one of the town’s opium addicts. Tieh tries to convince his blind instructor (played by choreographer/director Chia) and head student (Robert Mak) that he only hits the pipe every now and then, but it eventually becomes clear that his skills are eroding. A brief pole fighting sequence with Master Yi (Chia) and a lesson with Gua Su (Mak) lead to questions of whether Tieh’s habit is slowing him down (which is somewhat amusing considering Lung looks fantastic in both encounters!).

The big reveal, however, comes when Yung challenges Tieh to a public showdown after Su sets fire to the opium den in an act of retribution. Yung’s dual spears versus Tieh’s Tie Sin Fist is lightning fast and extraordinary to watch. But as the fight wears on, with Yung goading Tieh as his skills begin to wane, we see the full effects of opium abuse in a weak man who’s unable to steady his sword due to the shakes. And those shakes bring tragic consequences, delivering one of Opium’s best all-around scenes and giving the film a quasi-Rocky complex in the sense of portraying a fallen hero who must find a way to climb back to the mountain top (because we all know redemption is coming).

All in all, Opium and the Kung Fu Master is a powerhouse of action with strong contributions from everyone starting with Lung. I can’t stress enough how exceptional he looks, especially in the frenetic rice house scene where he swoops in to take on Philip Ko and a band of thugs. It’s one of my favorite bits of action complete with Robert Mak challenging Ko’s cool tiger claw in an acrobatically rousing clash. From speed to timing to power, Lung’s every move looks sharp and deliberate and I couldn’t have been more pleased. The legendary Chen Kuan Tai is also very much on point each time he takes up his spears.

Speaking of Mak, he really gets to show off his talents in this one via some great encounters with Ko and Lee Hoi San. And, he demos another nifty lion dance to boot (just like in Martial Club). I liked Mak in Martial Club, but I really loved his overall performance in Opium.

Hands down, Lung’s weapons and hand-to-hand technique are faster and more dynamic in Opium than in any other film of his career. But as powerful as his fight scenes are to the action, it’s Lung’s immensely intense portrayal of a man coming to grips with his addiction that proves equally powerful. From sacrificial deaths to woeful suicides, characters die unexpectedly at every turn with opium the root cause, and Lung takes these occurrences to heart in wonderfully dramatic fashion. You can see the conviction in his eyes each time a cautionary warning about Tieh’s opium habit leads to tragedy; it’s truly heartbreaking.

By the time Tieh begins the long journey to kicking his habit, regaining his superior kung fu (there’s an excellent pole training sequence with Master Yi), and restoring his stature, Lung is in full-on drama mode. There are some familiar episodes of melodrama that come with the old school territory, but most of the dramatic moments are genuine and effective. And though Lung has played high-stature characters many times over, I would go as far as to say none come close to resonating as strongly as Tieh Chiao San due to the levels of tragedy and high drama taking place throughout the story. It’s part of what admirably separates Opium from other kung fu tales.

I suppose the man to thank for the wonderful balance of action and drama is Chia, whose credits as a director include the aforementioned Shaolin Prince and the magnificent Shaolin Intruders. Opium was his third and final film in the director’s seat, and it was fitting (though unexpected) for Chia to choose a historical subject like opium abuse in China as his directorial swan song. Watch all three of his films back-to-back-to-back and you’ll quickly understand why Opium is considered the tame one; the action scenes in his other two films are insanely death-defying! It’s truly a shame Chia didn’t helm more projects over the course of his long choreography career.

My only real complaint about Opium and the Kung Fu Master (and it’s somewhat of a big one considering I was ready to give this film a 9.5 rating out of 10) is that the film’s finale felt rushed and serves as little more than an exercise in proficiency. And that’s really all I can say about it; it’s proficient.

For some, this might be good enough. But after Chia spends an hour and twenty minutes establishing Lung’s character as larger-than-life, breaking him down in dramatic fashion, building him up better than ever for the final showdown, and delivering some really excellent kung fu along the way, I expected a balls to the wall finale! I expected a drawn out confrontation considering Lung had to contend with Ko, San, and Chen! I even got giddy imagining what was to come as Lung made his walk to the center of town.

And then it was over in what felt like the blink of an eye. Proficiently executed and skillfully crafted, but short and workmanlike, nonetheless. All weapons, no hand-to-hand, and not everything I was hoping for in light of all the great fights leading up to this point. My minor issues with Mak and Lau Leanne’s throw-away love story and the continuous hints at Lung’s decline only manifesting in one fight scene were long forgotten. I found myself wishing I could turn back time, reshoot the finale, and set Opium back on its path to near-perfection.

Then I was snapped out of my fantasy stupor by my wife’s calls to take out the trash and quickly found myself back in the real world. After all, we’re talking about old school kung fu cinema here, not ending world hunger. And as far as finding the ultimate Ti Lung showcase was concerned… mission accomplished. So add Opium and the Kung Fu Master to your must-watch list and know you’ll be seeing Lung at his absolute finest!

Chris Hatcher’s Rating: 8.5/10

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“Dancing Warrior” Chinese Theatrical Poster

AKA: Dancing King
Director: Cheng Cheh
Cast: Ricky Cheng Tien Chi, Yang Li-Su, Sun Jung Chi, Yang Guang-Yo, Chen Kuan-Tai, Got Heung Ting, Lui Fong, Dennis Brown, Anita Mui Yim Fong
Running Time: 90 min. 

By Paul Bramhall

It’s fair to say that legendary director Chang Cheh more than earned his moniker of the Godfather of Hong Kong action cinema, however while his crowning achievements are many, there can also be no doubt that the post-Shaw Brothers era of his filmography can make for some odd viewing. After re-locating to Taiwan and forming his own production company there, Cheh went on to make a number of movies with Taiwanese native and Baby Venoms stalwart Ricky Cheng. After starring in Cheh’s latter day Shaw Brothers efforts, such as Five Element Ninjas and The Weird Man, Cheng would continue to feature in Cheh’s post-Shaw Brothers ventures into the realm of fantasy, such as Attack of the Joyful Goddess and The Nine Demons.

When the stars of Cheh’s movies from both past and present got together for the movie which was to secure his retirement, 1984’s The Shanghai Thirteen, that technically should have put a cap on both Cheh’s career as a director, and at least opened up news paths for Cheng to pursue. But old habits die hard, and Cheh soon found himself with the money he made from The Shanghai Thirteen, which was supposed to be for his retirement, being used to make another production. Notably he’d go on to make a further six movies, one of which was another retirement flick in the form of 1990’s Hidden Hero, before finally wrapping up with Last Ninja in China from 1993. But perhaps the movie he made directly after The Shanghai Thirteen can be considered a candidate for the oddest of his career, with the appropriately titled Dancing Warrior.

Once again Cheh would put Cheng in the lead role, and Dancing Warrior would mark the last time the pair would work together, before Dung Chi-Wa became Cheh’s actor of choice for his final movies. Their last collaboration together has been a title I’ve been curious about watching for the longest time, purely because the plot descriptions floating around on the net sound about as far away from a Chang Cheh movie as humanly possible. A dancer who dreams of making it big moves to New York to pursue his dream of appearing on Broadway. Really? This is a Chang Cheh movie? The guy who specialises in heroes majestically embracing their heroic deaths in a deluge of balletic slow motion and blood-letting, usually impaled by more weapons than any normal human could realistically withstand, has a movie under his name about a dancer pursuing the American Dream!?

Having now watched it, I can safely state that yes, indeed he does. What’s perhaps more surprising is that, far from being Cheh’s version of Mismatched Couples, Yuen Woo-Ping’s breakdancing movie from the same year with a fresh faced Donnie Yen, Dancing Warrior is more closely described as Cheh’s version of Flashdance. Like the first half of the title suggests, if The Fantastic Magic Baby can be considered Cheh’s go at a full blown fantasy adventure, then Dancing Warrior is his crack at directing a dance inspired musical. Of course, Cheng’s alcohol loving dancer also happens to be a kung fu expert, but the fact almost seems to be thrown in out of obligation, and perhaps more significantly, let’s Cheh provide a finale that delivers what’s expected. But more on that later.

As with almost anything Cheh did, particularly from the Venoms era onwards, subtlety is not the order of the day here. Proceedings open with Cheng made up as a clown in a Hong Kong TV studio, where he’s a backing dancer for a talk show. However when the shows arrogant host (a cameo by James Wong, who also wrote the script) shows up late, he ends up storming out, and basically spends the first 10 minutes of the movie dancing around the streets of Hong Kong in clown makeup. There’s something mildly infuriating about watching it. I mean, he even goes to a bar and gets drunk as a clown, and no one bats an eye lid, and then bumps into a car being driven by Chen Kuan-Tai, turning in a bizarre cameo. When finally a policeman shows the first sign of reality, and asks him to show some ID, he prances about acting as a mime for what feels like an eternity, in what’s clearly supposed to be a comical sequence, but serves to be anything but. Cheh has never been good at comedy, and nothing changed towards the end of his career.

Dancing Warrior also plays its part in the topic that rears its head during many a Chang Cheh discussion – the recurring theme of homoerotic bonding between the male characters of his tales. While Dancing Warrior is still a few years before the slow motion rolling around on the floor embraces found in Slaughter in Xian, it perhaps presents a solid argument that Cheh was indeed a straight guy, just with a rather overzealous approach to bromance. Cheng has a female love interest throughout the movie (a latter day Cheh movie that features no female betrayal!), played by Yang Li-Su, which leads to an amusing scene of Cheng being introduced to her male dance instructor. The two guys mutual love of dance leads to a scene in which they take to the floor in a nightclub together, which, at its most bizarre, has Cheng leaping into the arms of the awaiting instructor, a kind of all male version of a Dirty Dancing number. Misguided yes, but also weirdly innocent.

Indeed the word misguided could also be applied to Cheng’s dance loving bumpkin character. Shakespeare once said the world’s a stage, and that’s how Cheng views it. He just wants to dance, and at a moment’s notice he frequently does – in the street, in a restaurant, during a kung fu class, in the club, the list goes on. Whenever he does break into dance, it’s not just for a couple of seconds, but for the duration of a whole song. While Cheng’s physical dexterity is impossible to debate (many fans are of the opinion Cheh chose him as a lead due to his physical talents rather than his looks – difficult to argue), watching him constantly jump over tables, over-energetically tear up a dance floor, or have a dance off in a club that looks like an aerobics video gone wrong, does get a little tiresome.

Cheng’s dancing prowess eventually captures the eye of a businessman who invites him to New York to continue his training there. However, in the first sign of Dancing Warrior being a Chang Cheh movie, it turns out to be a trick, and the businessman actually wants Cheng to be part of an underground illegal fighting tournament. Of course, Cheng just wants to dance, so refuses and ends up performing a Monkey King routine in Central Park to get by from the donations he’s given. It’s here where he’s spotted by an African American kung fu teacher played by Dennis Brown, in his one and only movie appearance, and the pair strike up a friendship. Brown correctly guesses that Cheng also knows kung fu, and the pair strike a deal – Cheng will teach his students, on the basis that he’s allowed to use the kung-fu studio for dance practice. Plenty of cringe worthy kung fu and Broadway style dance routine infusion ensues, until Brown himself becomes embroiled in the illegal fighting.

It’s this plot development that provides us with what every Chang Cheh fan has been waiting for, a 7 minute 3-on-1 fight finale that sees Cheng taking on a villainous boxer played by Yang Guang-You (complete with hidden blades in his knee and elbow pads) and his two lackeys. It’s one of the most unique finales in Cheh’s filmography, in that it essentially takes the same technique he used 15 years earlier for Vengeance!, which has Ti Lung’s frantic teahouse fight juxtaposed with his Peking Opera performance, and applies it to a stage musical instead. So while Cheng fights off his opponents in reality, the scene frequently cuts to him, bare chested and in a long haired wig, dancing on a garishly coloured stage while fending off costumed attackers who look like rejects from Cats. Part of the fight is even set to a song, but dare I say, it works, giving way to one of the most bizarre closing shots you’re likely to see.

Like his fellow Shaw Brothers director Lau Kar Leung, Cheh never really seemed at home with movies based in a contemporary setting, a theory which is further backed up by the fact that, out of the 94 times he sat in the director’s chair, only a handful of them were modern day based. The last time Cheh directed a contemporary actioner was 1977’s Chinatown Kid, which interestingly also set itself Stateside, although instead of New York it was San Francisco. At least this time though, despite Cheh’s dwindling budgets, Dancing Warrior does in fact feature location shooting in the Big Apple. More so than any of his other contemporary outings, it’s Dancing Warrior which feels the most out of time, almost as if the New York being portrayed onscreen is a version of the city which only exists in Cheh’s head. It may not contain the supernatural elements from the likes of Heaven and Hell and Attack of the Joyful Goddess, and is supposedly grounded in reality, but make no mistake, once watched you’ll realise Dancing Warrior is just as much of a fantasy. Only with more, well, dancing.

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 5.5/10

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“Four Riders” Chinese Theatrical Poster

AKA: Strike 4 Revenge
Director: Chang Cheh
Cast: David Chiang, Ti Lung, Chen Kuan Tai, Wang Chung, Cheng Li, Lily Li, Yasuaki Kurata, Tina Chin Fei, Tina Chin Fei, Chan Chuen, Chan Dik Hak, Chui Fat, Dang Tak Cheung, Fung Hak On, Ho Hon Chau, Ho Pak Kwong
Running Time: 104 min.

By Paul Bramhall

The period from 1971 – 1972 could well be referred to as ‘The Iron Triangle on Tour’ era. The term ‘Iron Triangle’ came about as a reference to the collaborations between director Chang Cheh, and his two favourite leading men of the era, Ti Lung and David Chiang. Many of their collaborations proved to be a recipe for box office success, and the trio churned out 9 movies alone during the 2 years mentioned, all for the Shaw Brothers studio. During 1971 they went to Bangkok together, and made Duel of Fists, then hit the streets of Tokyo a year later to make a sequel, titled The Angry Guest. However Thailand and Japan weren’t their only destinations during this period, as they also travelled to Korea, during which time they made Four Riders.

By 1972 the Shaw Brothers studio already had a number of Korean talents working for them. During the same year director Cheng Chang-ho made the seminal classic King Boxer, while fellow director Chang Il-ho made The Deadly Knives and The Thunderbolt Fist (which also had a Korean star in the form of James Nam). Surprisingly then, outside of the location shooting and some of the extras, Four Riders features no local Korean talent. In a way it’s understandable, Golden Harvest founder Raymond Chow also travelled to Korea the same year and made Hapkido, which was the first time for the likes of Whang In-shik and Ji Han-jae to really show off their talents. By the end of the decade, the thought of filming a production in Korea and featuring zero Taekwondo or Hapkido practitioners would be an unthinkable one.

While this could be considered a missed opportunity (especially when you consider how much Muay Thai was showcased in Duels of Fists and The Angry Guest), the fact that Four Riders is from the era when everyone involved was in their prime, makes it easy to forgive. Lung and Chiang weren’t the only pair with whom Cheh had forged a successful working relationship, with action choreographers Lau Kar Leung and Tong Gaai equally contributing to the popularity of his output. By the time of Four Riders, Kar Leung and Gaai had choreographed over 20 of the directors movies together, dating back to The Magnificent Trio from 1966. Here the duo had plenty of martial arts talent to work with, as joining Lung and Chiang to complete the Four Riders of the title, are fellow Shaw regulars Chen Kuan Tai and Wong Chun.

The title is a reference to the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, as read by a bible brandishing Chen Kuan Tai to his nurse girlfriend, and alluding to the characters themselves. The best thing about this scene is that, as Kuan Tai reads the passage, scenes of the horsemen in battle play concurrently via a split screen, indicating that if Chang Cheh had ever decided to make a biblical adaptation, it would have been suitably epic and bloody. I question whether these scenes were filmed specifically for this sequence, or if perhaps they’re unused footage from The Heroic Ones made 2 years prior, however in either case, they work within the context of the scene.

The setting for the movie itself is July 1953, immediately after the end of the Korean War. Ti Lung plays a Chinese G.I. stationed in one of the Korean army bases, and having declared to his superior that he no longer works for him now that the war’s over, tears off his stripes and instigates a mass brawl. While the other G.I.’s are busy fighting each other, Lung takes the opportunity to steal a jeep. Armed with his army pay-out and no plans for the future, his only goal is to drive to Seoul and live it up for as long as he can. On the way he picks up another wandering G.I., played by Wong Chun (who amusingly jumps off a wall into the jeep as it’s driving past, reminding us that amongst all of Cheh’s trademark macho heroics, he always had an eye for the goofy), and the pair make their way to Seoul together.

Much like Cheh’s Thailand and Japan set productions, the pairs drive into the Seoul cityscape plays out like a travelogue, as the camera lingers and takes in the surrounding sights and monuments, all the while played to a funky 70’s lounge track. Indeed despite the setting supposedly being 1953, it’s a hard sell to say the least. The music, fashion, and even surroundings are all distinctly 1972. Most glaringly, in a latter nightclub scene, Cheh can’t seem to resist the opportunity to do a similar travelogue like montage of Seoul’s neon sign lit streets, further indicating that the reference to 1953 is almost supposed to be taken as thematic rather than literal. Chun has plans to visit his friend in hospital that was wounded in action, played by Chen Kuan Tai, and the pair go their separate ways upon arriving in the Korean capital.

It’s worth noting that Chiang also plays a G.I., one who is already in Seoul, and spends all of his time witling away his money in a hostess bar (amusingly named ‘Hello John!’) with Shaw Brothers starlet Lily Li. Chiang doesn’t actually meet the others until over an hour in, but he’s present throughout, as the story establishes his friendship with Lung. It’s when Lung is framed for murder that he’s reunited with Chun, as the hospital also doubles as a temporary prison, and his insistence that he’s innocent prompts his new friend to get to the bottom of what’s gone down. In fact Lung has been framed by the gangster that runs ‘Hello John!’, which acts as a front to recruit money hungry and jobless G.I.’s to act as drug mules to shift product, imported from Japan, to the U.S.

The Japan connection is significant, as it explains the casting of a fresh faced Yasuaki Kurata as the gangster in question. It was director Cheh that gave Kurata his break in Hong Kong, with The Angry Guest being his debut from the same year. Interestingly the Japanese star spent the remainder of the 70’s in independent bashers, only once returning to the Shaw Brothers studio to feature in Lau Kar Leung’s 1978 masterpiece, Heroes of the East. Decked out in a sharp black suit, he certainly looks the part, and exudes a menacing cool. Until we get to the scenes in which he interacts with his American boss, and he’s suddenly dubbed into English by what sounds like a softly spoken teenage boy. In fact all of the cast are dubbed at various points in the movie, either to speak English, or more frequently to speak Korean.

Four Riders deals with some interesting themes, even if they’re not explored in a particularly competent way. Chang Cheh was, after all, called the Godfather of the Kung Fu Film, not the Godfather of Existentialism. However the theme of the G.I.’s becoming aimless wanderers after the war creates some moments that resonate. In one particular scene, a guards asks Lung why everyone is fighting as he drives out of the base in his newly acquired jeep, to which he responds, “I wouldn’t know. But still, it’s been a long war. They’ve got to fight somebody.” The movie also opens and closes with wide shots of Korea’s snow covered countryside, which play out in silence, allowing us to occasionally glimpse the outline of 4 figures wading through the harsh landscape, before focusing on a single flower that’s bloomed from the bitter conditions. Indeed the war may be over, but beauty takes time to return.

However more than anything, Four Riders is, like any Chang Cheh flick, about the action. While there are several brawls throughout, including an intense throwdown between Chiang and Kurata at the 40 minute mark, the extended finale is really the highlight. Lung, Chun, and Kuan Tai face off against a horde of about 50 attackers in a gymnasium (which of course, comes with a trampoline), in a skirmish that literally has bodies flying all over the screen, while Chiang throws down against an equally ferocious group of attackers in the bar. Watching this particular scene again now, I can’t help but feel that Gareth Evans was giving it a nod with the scene in The Raid 2, in which Yayan Ruhian is ambushed in a remarkably similar setting. Chiang has never looked more furious than he does here, even more so than in the finale of Vengeance!, as he stomps on heads, delivers kicks to the face, and even scalps someone amidst a joyous amount of collateral damage.

The brawl in the gym is equally energetic, which has Lung at one point brandishing a barbell as a weapon, providing the Shaw Brothers fake blood department with plenty of work. The scene even throws in an early example of heroic bloodshed, giving an indicator of how Cheh’s apprentice John Woo developed his style. The sheer number of opponents the trio have to fend off, and the flow of choreography to coordinate such a mass showdown, is a joy to watch. Even Kurata enjoys it, who spends the initial stages calmly brandishing a Winchester rifle as he watches on, cigarette hanging from his lips. Watching any Chang Cheh movie of this nature, you know how it’s going to end, and Four Riders delivers the characters of its title a worthy finale, providing a liberal helping of fists, feet, bullets, and bloody mayhem.

As a self-confessed fan of this era from Chang Cheh’s filmography, for me Four Riders is on par with the likes of The Duel and Blood Brothers as the cream of the crop. Sure it gets goofy, such as the surveillance camera in the gangsters office being able to follow a fight around the room when being watched on TV. But for every goofy scene, you have one that exudes macho cool, like when Chiang confidently swigs directly from a bottle of Johnnie Walker, and Kurata calmly puts a bullet through it courtesy of a gun fitted with a silencer. For whatever reason, Four Riders often seems to be overlooked when discussing Cheh’s best movies, so if you haven’t seen it, do yourself a favour and check it out.

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 7.5/10

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“Challenge of the Lady Ninja” Chinese Theatrical Poster

AKA: Chinese Super Ninja 2
Director: Lee Tso Nam
Cast: Elsa Yeung Wai San, Chen Kuan Tai, Cho Kin, Kam Yin Fei, Kon Tak Mun, Peng Kang, Sit Hon, Sun Jung Chi, Robert Tai Chi Hsien, Yin Su Li
Running Time: 90 min.

By Paul Bramhall

For many, 1983 will be the year that Taiwanese director Lee Tso Nam is associated with creating the kung fu masterpiece Shaolin Vs Lama, a slice of martial arts goodness that would remain a favourite of grindhouse cinemas and late night screenings for many years after. However in an era when it was rare for directors working within the genre to only make a single movie, Shaolin Vs Lama certainly wasn’t Tso Nam’s only output for the year. As well as getting behind the camera for the romantic drama Love Don’t Say Goodbye, the director also decided to get in on the ninja craze, belting out two movies that largely consisted of the same cast and crew. While A Life of Ninja cast Chen Kuan-Tai and Yasuaki Kurata in a superlative slice of ninja action, the more interesting of the two titles goes to Challenge of the Lady Ninja, which cast Elsa Yeung as a female ninja who likes her ninja garb to be lipstick red. None of this black nonsense!

Yeung also featured in A Life of Ninja, as does Kuan-Tai return for this more female-centric helping of ninja action. While Kuan-Tai’s role is more a supporting one here, he gets an introduction that any budding actor would die for. Decked out in a sharp white suite, he’s introduced set to the Darth Vader theme from Star Wars, a theme which immediately demands respect no matter what context it’s played in, copyright be damned. Played over Kuan-Tai’s natural onscreen charisma, the visuals and audio are a killer combination. As you’ve probably figured out, the Shaw Brothers star (who notably was still working for the studio at the time, he featured in Little Dragon Maiden made the same year) plays the bad guy, a Chinese who’s switched to working for the Japanese during World War II, and is responsible for murdering Yeung’s father.

The setting may be the Japan occupied China of the WWII era, however it should be stated that it appears to be some alternative reality version. 80’s fashion and cars are the order of the day, proving that period detail is clearly overrated, when you have a star that can twirl around and magically make herself stripped down to a skimpy pink bikini and bottoms. One of the many powers of the lady ninja, and one that I’m glad wasn’t inherited by Richard Harrison. As the leading lady, Yeung has a suitably alluring presence, and was a regular in many a Taiwan movie of the time, notably staring alongside the likes of fellow Taiwan natives Brigitte Lin and Sally Yeh in Pink Force Commando and Golden Queens Commandos from the year prior. In Challenge of the Lady Ninja, it’s explained that she’s a Chinese that’s trained with a group of Japanese ninja’s for the past 17 years, and after passing the final test, much to the chagrin of fellow student Peng Kang (also the movies fight choreographer), is let loose into the world.

In some territories Challenge of the Lady Ninja was re-titled as Chinese Super Ninjas 2, which in itself is a re-title of Chang Cheh’s Five Element Ninjas, also released the year prior. It’s easy to see why, with Yeung’s test seeing her adorned in a red ninja outfit, as she makes her way through a forest filled with both ninja opponents and traps, so the similarity most likely made it an obvious choice for a re-title at the time of its release. However another similarity comes in the form of Chen Kuan-Tai’s 4 bodyguards, which are never far from his side, and come decked out in a variety of black leather and disco-esque outfits. The bodyguards consist of a Taekwondo expert female, a strong man, a guy whose speciality is the use of a boomerang sword, and a Japanese sword expert, notably played by Robert Tai, who comes with a big blue lobster painted on top of his shaved head. At least I’m sure it was a lobster, thinking about it now, it could have been a poorly drawn scorpion.

Once the main story kicks in, most of the action in Challenge of the Lady Ninja involves at least one of the bodyguards. Yeung herself doesn’t go it alone though, recruiting both a kung-fu expert played by Korean Kim Yeon-ja (who, apart from this has just one other movie credited to her name, with 1978’s Death Duel of Mantis), and a whore from the local brothel, played by Pok Ying-Lan. Together they become a trio of deadly femme fatales – Yeung with her ninja skills, Yeon-ja with her kung-fu talents, and Ying-Lan with her, well, ability to seduce and lose her clothes at any given moment. It can’t be denied that there’s an exploitative element to Challenge of the Lady Ninja, with training sequences that involve our trio decked out in bikinis, frequently filmed almost entirely from crotch level.

Another scene has Yeung facing off against the Taekwondo expert in a boxing ring, which has Yeung rip her own clothes off to reveal her areas of modesty covered by black handprints! The reason why she rips her clothes off in the first place of course, is that the Taekwondo expert had a strategically placed vat of baby oil which is poured all over the ring. Think Jason Statham’s scene in the bus depot from The Transporter, just swap crude oil for baby oil, and a Cockney with a receding hairline for a sultry Taiwanese actress. In many ways though, the action is in line with the slightly wacky element that came with ninja movies being made during the early 80’s. Teleport skills shown by characters randomly disappearing and re-appearing in another part of the screen come as standard, as do projectiles that unleash colourful puffs of smoke upon impact, burrowing through the ground, and completely pointless acrobatics. All are present and accounted for in Challenge of the Lady Ninja.

Interestingly a large number of the productions supporting cast are made up on Koreans, a sign which is probably indicative that part of the movie was filmed there with a local crew. Indeed the movie even has its own entry on the Korean Movie Database, where it’s listed under the title Black Rose, and lists Bruce Lai (Chang Il-do) as a cast member. Shin Wi-gyun is listed as a co-director from this source, and most likely there’s a separate Korean cut of the movie featuring local actors (Don Wong Tao once recalled in an interview how, on one of his movies being filmed in Korea, upon finishing the Korean crew then brought in their own actors to continue filming their own version). Wi-gyun was one of those local go-to directors for Chinese productions filming in Korea, which was common practice in the 80’s due to the reduced filming costs, with the only condition from Korea usually being to include some local crew and performers. Notably Wi-gyun is also listed as the co-director for the likes of The Postman Strikes Back and John Woo’s Heroes Shed No Tears.

Challenge of the Lady Ninja ultimately surprises with a plot twist I didn’t see coming (however those of a superior intellect might, which is a significant number), and culminates, like any ninja movie should, with a ninja versus ninja battle. It’s unfortunate that the final battle is somewhat of an anticlimax due to being relatively short, however it does contain some unique ideas, not least that the final part of the fight takes place completely underground. It appears that when you see those ninjas burrowing through the ground, they’re not just going from A to B, in some cases they’ve actually found the time to dig out a whole little area just big enough for a pair of ninjas to go at each other in. While it’s nice to see a variation on the countless sword clanging and colourful puffs of smoke that most ninja movies from Taiwan and Hong Kong end in, the execution sadly falls a little flat, leading the final blow to be more of a “hmmmm”, than a “wow!” moment.

While Tso Nam would continue directing and is still active today, for the other familiar names in Challenge of the Lady Ninja, the production came at the tail end of their career. Yeung would make just a handful more movies in the following years, including This Love of Mine in 1986, directed by her husband Chang Yi. Robert Tai would also make the move away from being in front of the camera, and focus more on action directing, going on to make one of his last screen appearances a couple of years later in the legendary Ninja: The Final Duel. While there’s a distinct feeling that Challenge of the Lady Ninja was made past the peak of most of its performers abilities, it succeeds at never being boring, and the guarantee of some action, be it covered in baby oil or delivered via the thrust of a blade, is never far away. For that, it certainly warrants a watch.

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 6.5/10

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“The Final Master” Theatrical Poster

Director: Xu Haofeng
Writer: Xu Haofeng
Cast: Fan Liao, Xiao Song Jia, Jiang Wenli, Huang Jue, Jin Shijie, Zhang Aoyue, Song Yang, Dong Xiaosong, Leon Dai, Chen Kuan-tai, Xiong Xin-Xin
Running Time: 109 min.

By Martin Sandison

Now that the old guard of Hong Kong martial arts stars are getting on in age, the eyes of the kung fu movie-loving public have turned to Mainland China. With big money behind productions, some new talent – as well as a different approach to action choreography – right now may be the time for Mainland films to flourish.

This brings us to Xu Haofeng’s The Master (aka The Final Master), a film that I heard a lot about before finally seeing it at The Far East Film Festival.

The story, while a little contrived from the outset, is classic old school stuff. It concerns Chen (Fan Liao), a master of Wing Chun from the South who arrives in Tianjin in the early 20th century to set up a school. The beginning of the film is simple: Chen must defeat eight masters from different schools to be able to set up his own academy; but as the film progresses, the story becomes more interesting and complex. Chen gets involved with a beautiful waitress Zhao (Jia Song) and takes on a student Gen (Yang Song), while the various masters collude to bring Chen down.

The approach to The Master’s aesthetic is what marks The Master as something unique; it takes an existing kung fu movie, tropes and twists it into something almost surreal and extra diverting. Characters are not chivalrous, heroic or evil; they merely have their own motivations and interact accordingly.

The look of the The Master are reminiscent of Shaw Brothers 80’s flicks, especially with coloring and set design. The budget of the film shows in its crane shots, elaborate camerawork, period detail and high-standard costume design. With this base, director/writer Xu Haofeng creates a dark and thematically heavy film that does not celebrate, but rather berates the Martial World, which is usually lauded in most kung fu films. This is put forth with intelligence rather than extremity; there is not much blood or killing in the film, rather a dependence on martial arts technique and an unusual way of depicting fight scenes.

Together with its weight of intellect and spiritual undercurrents, The Master conveys a fresh feeling that permeates each frame of the film. I have the utmost respect for Xu Haofeng’s vision. As his third film as director, The Master is his biggest in scope (his last film, The Sword Identity, made waves with its new approach to the wuxia genre).

The Master’s cast are all established actors, with the lead Fan Liao having previously had stand out roles in Let the Bullets Fly and Black Coal, Thin Ice. Main actress Jia Song recently appeared in Sammo Hung’s The Bodyguard. Every talent in the film quits themselves well, which is evident in the wiggle room given for character development, as well as humorous moments.

However, where the film falters for me is during the fight sequences. There are many action scenes in The Master featuring open hand and weapons fighting. The filmmaker’s vision was to have a more realistic style than most viewers are used to. The way the combat is shot and staged is at a high level: good framing, editing and execution. There’s no doubt that the choreographers – and editors – must be applauded for this (their approach definitely bodes well for future productions). The problem for me is that I was never that excited by the action. In some of the best examples of Hong Kong martial arts movies, there is an intricacy to all aspects of filmmaking that make me completely immersed in that universe. They create a kind of awestruck consciousness that I can’t find with much else in life. Unfortunately, The Master, by virtue of its realistic approach, does not tap into this for me. It’s such a shame because everything else about the film is top notch.

One interesting aspect of the action is that it’s at times humorous, in a very surreal way. Such as at the end where Chen takes on an alleyway full of old masters, with each given a sprain, break and/or scuttling off after amusing reaction shots.

Fans will love the cameo appearance by none other than the Shaw Brothers legend Chen Kuan Tai (Shanghai 13, Killer Constable) in one of the last fights of the film (where he wields a massive sword).

Near the end of the film, the masters are about to sit down and watch The Burning of the Red Lotus Temple, considered by many to be the film that began audiences love of the martial arts genre. An ambitious reference to make, The Master pulls it off despite some shortcomings.

Martin Sandison’s Rating: 7/10

The post Master, The | aka The Final Master (2015) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“Shanghai 13” Chinese Theatrical Poster

Director: Chang Cheh
Cast: Chiang Ming, Ti Lung, Cheng Tien Chi, David Chiang, Lee Chung Yat, Chi Kuan Chun, Wong Ching, Chiang Sheng, Leung Kar Yan, Lu Feng, Chai Kai, Chan Sing, Chen Kuan-tai, Cheung Taai Lun, Jue Hoi Ling, Andy Lau, Danny Lee, Jimmy Wang Yu, Wang Chung, Clement Yeh
Running Time: 85 min.

By Martin Sandison

The great Chang Cheh – one of the most revered, prolific and revolutionary directors of all time – created some of the greatest innovative kung fu movies. By 1984 he was 60, and was considering retirement. To fund this, he made one of the most ridiculously action- packed and star-packed kung fu films of all time: Shanghai 13. With a veritable smorgasbord of action stars from the classic Shaw Brothers era, this is cinematic heaven. Made in Taiwan on a pretty small budget, Chang virtually started most of the stars of the films careers they agreed to appear, no matter how small their part. The film ultimately is a celebration of the classic kung fu film; the movie techniques that Chang made famous, the stars he discovered, the perfunctory storylines. This creates a depth that goes beyond how silly the film appears on the outset, and ensures its place as one of the all time greats.

The credit sequence for the movie is unfeasibly cool as a funky but tinny song plays and each actors face appears in illustrated form. The plot is undoubtedly throwaway, just a vehicle for as many stars to appear as possible. The film is set in 1920’s Shanghai, and involves a patriot called Gau attempting to deliver important documents to Hong Kong and an army of traitors after him. Basically every scenario revolves around Gau being escorted by patriots, and traitors attempting to kill him. That means there is a fight in every scene! The match ups are positively mouth watering, and the choreography and filming of them is top notch.

Action direction is credited to five different film makers, the first being Lau Kar Wing. Younger brother of the legend that was Lau Kar Leung (RIP), by 1984 he had proven himself as one of the greatest performers and choreographers of the golden age. He appeared in and worked behind the scenes of countless classics, including The Odd Couple with Sammo Hung. That movie is, in my opinion, the greatest classical weapons film ever made. He also fought his older brother in the second best classical weapons film ever made, Legendary Weapons of China! Two of the Venoms, Chiang Sheng and Lu Feng, also serve as choreographers on Shanghai 13, who by this point had worked on numerous Venoms films and had become very accomplished.

Next is Wong Gwok Chue, a veteran who also worked on Scorching Sun, Fierce Winds and Wild Fire, starring Tan Tao Liang and Chang Yi (one of the greatest Independent kung fu movie villains). And last but not least Ricky Chen Tien Chi, who also has a large part in Shanghai 13. He was first credited choreographer on Mystery of Chess Boxing, one of the all time classic Independent kung fu movies, and appeared in plenty of Shaw Brothers and other Independent productions. Chang Cheh really pulled out the stops on talent behind the camera, but onscreen the talent pedigree goes through the roof.

The first star to appear is Jimmy Wang Yu, and despite his non-fighting role, the one-armed swordsman makes an impact. Next up is Chen Kuan Tai, who does a little fighting and is as regal and composed, as always. Danny Lee plays a sniper, exuding coolness and channelling his persona from the Heroic Bloodshed classic City on Fire (finally got to mention it!). Co-choreographer Chiang Sheng pops in as the fights start to heat up, battling three heavies while still having a cigarette holder in his mouth! He shows his natural aptitude for acrobatics here.

The next scene features the non-martial artist legend Beardy (Leung Kar Yan) hanging out in his plush apartment with a bevy of pretty ladies, just being Beardy. He is interrupted by Venom Lu Feng (looking ripped and up for a fight), and one of the best fights in the film proceeds. There is a magnificent shapes hand exchange between the two, which had me in that zone of martial arts movie awestruck consciousness. Beardy even fights on with numerous injuries, referencing that other Chang Cheh masterwork Boxer From Shantung.

Then a very young Andy Lau shows up (complete with cool white outfit and converse) and despite some doubling, he delivers some fine flowing martial artistry. Here the filming techniques amp up, with reverse photography and clever editing to paper over the cracks. Chang clearly knows what he is doing: creating a visual festival of all the innovations he made famous.

The next scene features Toby Chi Kuan Chun and David Chiang, two of the masters of kung fu cinema, as they go at it with Ga Hoi (a recognisable face especially from the shapes genius 7 Steps of Fung Fu) and Wong Chung, a veteran Shaw Brothers and Indie bit part actor. All four perform admirably, with Chiang really cutting loose. He even has an exploding pocket watch that he puts to good use!

The best entrance for any character is undoubtedly Ti Lung, as he appears to save Gao by slitting two guys throats. The camera centres on his iconic face complete with moustache, cool hat and pipe. The final fight (and the whole film really) is a fan’s dream. Two big surprises are the inclusions of Chen Sing and Sonny Yu. Chen Sing suddenly arrives on the scene, looking a little overweight – sporting a Karate suit – diving into the action with abandon. By this point he had moved away from Shaws to star in innumerable Indie flicks, with his nickname “The Chinese Charles Bronson.” His battle with Ti Lung is one for the ages, despite it not being as intricate as other sections of the action. Sonny Yu was a relatively new star compared to the rest of the cast, with only a few films under his belt. His technique is exemplary especially in kicking, and he more than holds his own.

When this film finished I was spent. But in a euphoric way. I would urge any fan of kung fu cinema, whatever age or stage, to check this undoubted masterpiece out (available on DVD from Terracotta). Despite not being Chang Cheh’s swan song (that would come in 1993 with Ninja In Ancient China), it is a fitting jewel in the crown of his unbelievable filmography.

Martin Sandison’s Rating: 10/10

The post Shanghai 13 | aka Heroic Ones from Shanghai (1984) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“Killer Constable” Chinese Theatrical Poster

AKA: Karate Exterminators
Director: Kuei Chih-Hung
Cast: Chen Kuan Tai, Gam Biu, Ha Ping, Keung Hon, Kong Do, Ku Feng, Kwan Yung Moon, Lam Wai, Lee Chun Hwa, Jason Pai Piao, Walter Tso, Dick Wei, Yuen Wah
Running Time: 92 min.

By Matthew Le-feuvre

Released in the closing years of the Shaw Brothers reign, Kuen Chia Hung’s arresting socio-politically charged actioner confidently reintroduced the interesting, if not debatable, abstraction of misplaced loyalties for the crux of a generous travelogue adventure. Although previously, and obviously, examined by filmmaking giants: Chang Cheh, Liu Chia Liang and Sun Chung; therefore what else could be said, or more appropriately, visually expressed?!

For very few critics it was a tired formula that harkened back to a pioneering decade where local superstars – David Chiang and Ti Lung – were (screen) struggling against corrupt administrations; and/or Tartar influenced monarchies, forfeiting their many incarnations for the sake of national identity. However too hardened Hong Kong audiences, it was an alternative universe where the daily grind of employment could be put aside for a few hours, even though the apprehension of a spiralling economy loomed like an inevitable sunrise. Worse still were the afterthoughts of Thatcher’s impending tense negotiations with mainland China over the prospective future of the colony. This reality was always a favoured metaphor for aspiring screenwriters and filmmakers to exploit, yet shielded their personal concerns behind traditional values.

Indeed, no stranger to controversial themes dealing with either occult imagery (i.e. The Killer Snakes, The Boxer’s Omen), underdog aspirations or ideologies of the criminal classes as overtly depicted in Kuen Chia Hung’s earlier seminal masterpieces: The Teahouse and its highly anticipated follow-up Big Brother Cheng. It was these pictures that started a long association with its leading actor, Cheng Kwan Tai – an unglamourous, if not stoic personality in the Charles Bronson mould who (was) catapulted to international recognition playing the doomed streetfighter-turned-syndicate boss for Chang Cheh’s brutal morality tale: The Boxer from Shantung.

In due course, Tai furthered his career with reprised epitomizations of Shaolin/Hung Gar folkhero Hung Xi Kwan for the aforementioned Cheh and Liu Chia Liang. Yet prior to his extensive affiliation with the Shaw Brothers, Tai – also a former fireman, – had already established a legitimate tournament background where he invariably demonstrated his mental and physical prowess as a ‘Monkey’ stylist competitor. It is not fully known ‘how’ and ‘where’ Tai became involved within the HK film industry: an invitation, the lure of fame or rich rewards perhaps?! He did, like the majority, entered this exhausting profession as a stuntman – reliable and resolute – generally meeting an unbefitting end-at the hands of either Wang Yu or (soon-to-be contemporary) David Chiang.

Killer Constable afterall wasn’t so much a departure for Tai, but more of a welcomed reunion into that cycle of pictures which, in formative terms, manufactured and celebrated his star status. He projected a majestic, brooding and ofttimes, an intensity other leading actors’ simply lacked; few surprisingly did not retain proper martial arts qualifications, often relying on locally trained Peking opera debutants to perform intricate movements that on first viewing defy both the mechanics of grace and the physics of gravity.

Tai, on the other hand did not opt to sell himself as a showman of inordinate strength, nor did he confine his versatility to elaborate spectacles or generic fighting falsehoods: namely improvisation or overly rehersed circus routines. Instead, he was notably tenacious, exerting authentic techniques and in some cases ‘vulnerability.’ Hung Xi Kwan, for example, was a very human depiction(s); a passionate character whose emotions fueled members of his inner circle into total committment, eventhough their collectiveness for political liberation appeared conflicting, especially in Cheh’s classic Heroes Two (1974).

Here, for his third and final collaboration with Hung, Tai’s performance – bordering on the psychotic – as ruthless Ching loyalist Ling Tien Ying, is quite the antithesis: sinister, morose and absent of humanity. Nevertheless, while peers’ and village-folk subjects have deified him beyond the physical extension of Judge, Jury and Executioner, Ling’s intrinsic self-confidence and, equally, unparalleled skills as an official bounty hunter are so well respected, none question his resolve until the royal treasury is expertly looted by a select number of Han patriots.

It is up to this juncture of the first act where Hung’s epic scope diversifies into a fascinating pursuit-type picture with Ling energetically rampaging across countryside farm lands, imperial coastline vistas and treacherous Han-occupied landscapes where (much to the repulsion of his morally-divided assemble), one by one, Ling instinctively apprehends and methodically tortures each suspect involved in a travail of learning the ring leader’s identity (as played by stalwart character actor, Ku Feng). As the body count rises on both sides, the ethics of right and wrong becomes increasingly blurred, giving Ling the opportunity to curb the pressures of duty and compliance while awakening personal reflection and self analysis during a chance encounter with a lonely blind girl, who maybe potentially linked to the Han rebels?

Verdict: Although a loose reworking of The Invincible Fist (1969) – starring Lo Lieh and David Chiang in his lead debut – as it stands, Killer Constable, on occasion, is not an easy watch. Moments of grandiosity are overshadowed by melding alleged historical events with sullen melodramatics, however the real beauty is within the film’s iconography, Ling’s broadsword for instance – a weapon of true elephantine proportions – amputates limbs and other body parts with nimble ease. Tellingly, another profound and underrated classic from the Shaws’ vast film depository.

Matthew Le-feuvre: 9/10

The post Killer Constable | aka Lightning Kung Fu (1980) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“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

The post 14 Blades (2010) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“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 Man With the Iron Fists” Theatrical Poster

Director: RZA
Writer: RZA, Eli Roth
Cast: Russell Crowe, Cung Le, Lucy Liu, Byron Mann, RZA, Rick Yune, David Bautista, Jamie Chung, Daniel Wu, Gordon Liu, Chen Kuan-tai, Eli Roth, Pam Grier, Jon T. Benn, Terence Yin, MC Jin (Jin Au-Yeung)
Running Time: 96 min.

By Laser Beahm

If your 11-year-old son, nephew, grandchild, or alter-ego were to write and star in their own version of a Kung-Fu film, “The Man With the Iron Fists,” would be that film.

“The Man With the Iron Fists,” is an entertaining, gory thrill-ride that takes place in the fictional Jungle Village; a place for pirates, gangs, and whores. The film throws in everything a good Kung-Fu movie should have: action-packed fight scenes, a battle of good and evil, beautiful women, and fortune. “The Man With the Iron Fists,” however, reads more as parody to Kung-Fu movies than it does homage. The plot is muddled. The characters are underdeveloped. The scenes range from embarrassingly over-acted to confusing. But, for all its faults, it still has heart and is almost endearing.

The film is former Wu-Tang Clan member, RZA’s directorial debut. While it’s chaotic and perplexing, I found myself rooting for RZA, his character the Blacksmith, and, most of all, his movie. It’s as if I am watching my own son act in his first play. Sure, it’s riddled with flaws but there’s something so charming about the enthusiasm that oozes throughout the movie as a whole that I can’t help but love it despite all of its pitfalls.

There are moments of sheer brilliance. The scenes are beautiful. Zen Yi/The X-Blade, played by Rick Yune, does a fantastic job on screen. His martial arts skills are amazing, and his acting skills bring a brooding and stunning richness to his character. The main villain Silver Lion, played by Byron Mann, is the epitome of an anti-hero. He’s coarse and money-hungry, willing to hurt and kill anyone who gets in his way of amassing a quick fortune. His performance is reminiscent of David Bowie in “Labyrinth”: cool, beautiful, and Broadway-esque.

RZA himself does a great job as the films protagonist. He is enigmatic, dark, and worthy of the love of his muse, Lady Silk (Jamie Chung). However, the film takes a very strange turn while explaining RZA’s character, the Blacksmith. Taking us down a tangled web of slavery, monks, and a shipwreck, it’s never very clear just how the Blacksmith ended up in Jungle Village at all. But that’s just par for the course. The entire movie is built on a maze of stories that never really lead up to the action at hand.

The most confusing character of all is the Brass Body. While former WWE wrestler Dave Bautista looks amazing as he shows off some of his classic professional wrestling moves in the film, there is never a discussion as to who he is, who he is working for, why he is living in Jungle Village, or just how he came to have a “Brass Body.”

Russel Crowe also appears in the film as an Aussie mercenary named Jack Knife. His introduction into the film begins with him ripping a large man in half with his knife, then delving into a night full of debauchery in the Pink Blossom whore house, led by Madame Blossom (Lucy Lui). While Knife ultimately helps the Blacksmith, again there are problems with explaining why Crowe’s character is so sociopathic yet so willing to help the Blacksmith.

If you’re up for sheer entertainment and too tired from a long week at work to care about a precise plot, then I say “The Man With the Iron Fists” is definitely worth the money. If you are a Kung-Fu purist, with a knack for character development, then this movie will definitely lead to disappointment. Go with absolutely no expectations and you will come out feeling puzzled and completely entertained, like I did.

Laser Beahm’s Rating: 5.5/10

The post Man with the Iron Fists, The (2012) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“White Vengeance” International Theatrical Poster

Director: Daniel Lee
Cast: Leon Lai Ming, Zhang Han Yu, Anthony Wong Chau Sang, Jordan Chan Siu Chun, Crystal Liu Yi Fei, Fang Shao Feng, Andy On Chi Kit, Jia Qing, Wu Ma, Chen Kuan Tai, Chan Chi Fai, Ding Hai Feng, Du Yiheng, Xu Xiang Dong
Running Time: 135 min.

By HKFanatic

Director Daniel Lee has long seemed to struggle to find his identity as a filmmaker in the wake of his breakout 1996 hit “Black Mask.” After that movie, he produced the tournament fight flick “Star Runner” (AKA “The Kumite”) and the English/Cantonese crossover of “Dragon Squad,” both of which received lukewarm reviews. Since then he’s found a niche making historical epics like “Three Kingdoms: Resurrection of the Dragon” and “14 Blades,” but something feels missing.

His latest movie, “White Vengeance,” follows in the footsteps of films like “Hero” and “Red Cliff” by mixing real-life figures with fantastical action scenes, but it doesn’t come anywhere close to the heights of those genre standouts. Despite decent performances from familiar Hong Kong faces like Leon Lai and Anthony Wong, “White Vengeance” suffers from sluggish pacing and poor action directing. All of this makes me wonder if the visually kinetic and comic book-like flair of “Black Mask” wasn’t the result of producer Tsui Hark playing a more ‘hands on’ role.

Dusty and drab, “White Vengeance” feels bogged down by its own self-importance. The story zeroes in on the events of the Hongmen Banquet, a major event in Chinese history, and then tries to examine the conflict from all sides. In a time of uncertainty, two great military men are vying for the position of Emperor – but they couldn’t be more different. Leon Lai’s General strives for equality and fairness for the people, while Shaofeng Feng’s character seems more driven by personal interests. First impressions aren’t always the most accurate, however, and as they say ‘absolutely power corrupts absolutely.’ The viewer will have their perception of these characters flipped more than once over the course of the film’s 135 minute runtime.

“White Vengeance” features solid acting turns from regulars like Jordan Chan and Andy On, but it’s Hanyu Zhang and Anthony Wong that steal the show as two competing military strategists. Their conflict is illustrated visually halfway through the film with an intense game of chess that actually sees Zhang coughing up blood(!) as he plays. Sure, a game of chess fought with Chi-like powers is a bit over the top – but it provides a much needed boost of energy during the film’s lagging middle portion.

The real issue here is that audiences, even on this side of the globe, are becoming overly familiar with the Chinese historical genre – and “White Vengeance” doesn’t bring anything particularly new to the table. The art of military strategy was already depicted wonderfully in movies like “Red Cliff” and “The Lost Bladesmen,” which benefitted from dazzling action choreography to boot. Daniel Lee must have had difficulty getting enough camera coverage for the battle sequences, as he instead relies on a familiar hail of computer-generated arrows to sell the scale of the conflicts. After you’ve seen the best the genre has to offer, it’s hard to go back to shakycam and limp fight scenes in a movie like “White Vengeance.”

Devout followers of Chinese history or the actors involved should find plenty to enjoy in “White Vengeance.” But if you’re starting to feel you’ve seen everything this genre has to offer, “White Vengeance” won’t change your mind. Here’s hoping that Daniel Lee stops looking to the history books for inspiration and is able to channel the manic energy and flair of “Black Mask” into his next project.

HKFanatic’s Rating: 5.5/10

The post White Vengeance (2011) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“Just Heroes” Chinese Theatrical Poster

Director: John Woo
Co-director: Ng Ma
Cast: David Chiang, Danny Lee, Chen Kuan Tai, Stephen Chow, Lo Lieh, Cally Kwong, Wu Ma, Shing Fui On, Zhao Lei, Tien Niu, Alan Chan, Fung Hak On, Philip Ko Fei
Running Time: 97 min.

By Numskull

This is the John Woo “gun fu” movie that nobody has seen. It’s listed on the filmographies, but nothing much is ever said about it. It simply gets nestled between A Better Tomorrow 2 and The Killer.

So I watched it hoping I’d be able to write a rave review of it, saying how criminally unfair it is that it doesn’t get more attention and how it deserves to be ranked right up there with Woo’s best.

Sorry, folks. No can do.

Just Heroes is just so-so. John Woo turned out a chain of seven films during his HK golden era: A Better Tomorrow, A Better Tomorrow 2, Just Heroes, The Killer, Bullet in the Head, Once A Thief, and Hard Boiled. This, friends, is the weak link.

One might say that the absence of Chow Yun-fat (who appeared in five of the seven films listed above) harms this movie and keeps it from attaining the brilliance of A Better Tomorrow or The Killer. And one would be wrong, because there’s no shortage of talent among the cast here, and not even an actor as good as Chow Yun-fat can single-handedly save a movie from totally sucking (Replacement Killers, anyone?). I’m not saying that Just Heroes sucks, but it doesn’t mesmerize you like other Woo flicks do.

The story concerns the murder of a mob leader by an unidentified assassin and the subsequent chaos among his underlings as his chosen successor has doubts about his ability to fill his boss’s shoes and the search for the killer indicates an inside job. The gang splits into factions. Some guys are honorable, others are pricks. Violence ensues.

Don’t expect a thrill a minute. Just Heroes is no more story driven than any other John Woo film since the mid 1980s, but it’s definitely less adrenaline-charged. After the initial shootout, the better part of an hour passes before we see anything that resembles an action sequence again. What’s there is good, but more would have been nice since the plot and characters aren’t exceptionally interesting.

Ng Ma is credited as co-director and I’m given cause to wonder if he directed more of this movie than “they” would have us believe. At times it really does seem more like a John Woo imitation than a John Woo film. There’s one character who repeatedly makes references to A Better Tommorrow, reciting Chow Yun-fat’s urine-drinking speech and planting handguns in potted plants (get it? PLANTING handguns? Potted PLANTS? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA… ha… heh… um… never mind).

Seriously… Just Heroes is worth watching once, but it’s hardly touched by greatness. If you’re a Woo completist, it is, of course, required viewing; if not, don’t beat yourself up for skipping over it. To my knowledge it is not available on DVD. Tai Seng has released full-frame and (barely) letterboxed videos. Both have blurry white subs burned onto the print; in the full-frame version, which sould be avoided at all costs, the text constantly runs off the edges of the screen and gets chopped off at the bottom. Nothing new there. Watch it letterboxed or not at all.

Oh yeah, and the ending is very abrupt.

Numskull’s Rating: 5/10

The post Just Heroes | aka Tragic Heroes (1987) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“Fire of Conscience” American Theatrical Poster

Director: Dante Lam Chiu Yin
Cast: Leon Lai, Richie Ren, Liu Kai Chi, Wang Bao Qiang, Michelle Yip Suen, Pinky Cheung, Vivian Hsu, Wilfred Lau Ho Lung, Chen Kuan Tai, Vanessa Yeung Jung, Adam Chan Chung Tai, Chan Hung, Ringo Chan Ka Leung
Running Time: 106 min.

By HKFanatic

“If you don’t have faith, you’re not alive.” So says Leon Lai’s beleaguered detective in Dante Lam’s 2010 film “Fire of Conscience.” Leon plays a burnt out cop who keeps the faith after the death of his wife by diving headfirst into his work, stopping at nothing to bring perps to justice. Along the way he must contend with some incredibly dangerous Southeast Asian arms dealers and a possible mole within his own team. Does the plot trade in cop movie cliches? Sure, but Dante Lam delivers them in an exciting fashion and doesn’t belabor the fact that we may have seen this kind of story before. Moving a mile a minute despite a nearly two hour runtime and loaded with pulse-pounding shoot-outs and chase sequences, “Fire of Conscience” should please just about anyone yearning for a good Hong Kong thriller.

A few years ago, director Dante Lam was more well known for making pop star fluff like “Twins Effect” and “Undercover Hidden Dragon.” Since 2008’s “The Beast Stalker,” he’s managed to reinvent himself as something like the Hong Kong analog to Paul Greengrass (“The Bourne Supremacy”) or Michael Mann (“Heat”). He films his cops and robbers thrillers with a man-on-the-street style, utilizing dizzying handheld camera work to make the viewer feel like they’re really there, rushing through a crowded Hong Kong market to escape pursuers.

That said, there’s something that separates “Fire of Conscience” from Lam’s other films like “The Stool Pigeon.” It could be the relentless pace, the hardcore violence, or the fact that there’s less of an emphasis on teary-eyed melodrama. I had a feeling “Fire of Conscience” was going to be pretty damn good from an early scene featuring Leon Lai and Richie Ren after their characters have just met. The two of them share a ride to a crime scene, their car gliding through the night past prostitutes and street thugs, and reflect on who the real scum is: the criminals out their window or the top brass back at the police station, who only care about finding a suspect and nabbing positive headlines. It’s this kind of tough guy male bonding that Hong Kong films are so good at.

Leon Lai and Dante Lam prove to be a potent match. Leon is more of an understated actor – you’re never going to see the man break down and sob on camera, it’s just not gonna happen. Leon prefers to sit there with his thousand yard stare while a single tear rolls down his cheek. The presence of Lai seems to temper Dante Lam’s usual melodramatic tendencies, which were in full effect during “The Beast Stalker” and “The Stool Pigeon.” I understand that Lam is eager to have an emotional core to his films, something that will pull the audience into the story, but nobody wants to see an action flick where hardened criminals break down and cry like they’re on a daytime talk show.

“Fire of Conscience” certainly has its heart-tugging moments but for the most part it’s all about the action and Dante Lam serves it up in liberal doses. A highlight comes when Leon Lai and his police crew engage in a violent shoot-out in the middle of a teahouse. Rather than go for the ultra-stylized John Woo approach, Dante Lam favors the carefully controlled chaos of someone like Michael Mann, where claustrophobic camera angles and keen sound editing make you feel like you can hear the shell casings hitting the carpet at your feet. Although this sequence is rapidly edited, it still wonderfully communicates the geography of the restaurant so you know where everyone is and what their escape route might be even when the bullets are flying.

There are plenty more exciting moments where that came from, especially when grenades are introduced into the equation. In fact, Dante Lam seems to have a love affair with grenades in this film – hey, as an action fan, I’m not complaining. Overall, Lam portrays Hong Kong as a barely stable environment where violence could erupt at any moment. One minute you’re sitting in a traffic jam, the next minute Leon Lai is running past your car holding an assault rifle. Restaurant patrons sitting and enjoying a meal scramble as the glass window next to them shatters and a fight between cops and crooks spills into their midst.

Besides Leon Lai, the rest of the cast is excellent, including veteran character actor Liu Kai-Chi (“Sha Po Lang,” “Infernal Affairs II”), who is actually given a meaty side role. Special mention must be made of Michelle Ye (“Overheard 2,” “The Sniper”), an actress who plays down her natural glamour in this film by cutting her hair and wearing functional cop clothes. Ye is sexy without trying; she merely plays a loyal cop who is good at her job, and can hold her own during shoot-outs and intense interrogations. This is exactly the kind of female role I like to see in an action movie – where an actress’ character is just as empowered as the men but the filmmakers see no need to draw attention to the fact. Richie Ren is also superb in his role but to talk about his character at all would reveal some of the plot and “Fire of Conscience” is a movie that deserves to be seen unspoiled.

“Fire of Conscience” is the movie I wanted “The Beast Stalker” and “The Stool Pigeon” to be. Watching the film reminded me why I fell in love with Hong Kong movies in the first place and why it’s still one of the best destinations for action cinema. Dante Lam’s filmmaking style may not be unique in the world but he’s certainly one of a kind in Hong Kong; and from quotes I’ve read from the director, he seems committed to furthering the cinematic dialogue in his home country. A Dante Lam movie won’t necessarily feature the artful shot compositions or character development of a Milkyway Production, but you know you’re in for a gritty, well-told story and a chase sequence or two that will make your adrenaline spike. “Fire of Conscience” makes good on the promise of Dante Lam’s earlier work and delivers what is without a doubt one of the best Hong Kong thrillers I’ve seen since 2002’s “Infernal Affairs.”

HKFanatic’s Rating: 8/10

The post Fire of Conscience | aka Fire Dragon (2010) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“Executioners from Shaolin” Chinese Theatrical Poster

AKA: Executioners of Death
Director: Lau Kar-leung
Cast: Chen Kuan Tai, Lo Lieh, Lily Li Li Li, Wong Yu, Kong Do, Hsiao Ho, Cheng Hong Yip, John Cheung, Shum Lo, Gordon Liu, Fung Hak On, Fung Ming, John Cheung, Wilson Tong, Peter Chan Lung, Lam Ching Ying
Running Time: 96 mins.

By HKFanatic

Tonally, this film is all over the place even for a Shaw Brothers movie. The story opens ‘in medias res’ with the Shaolin Temple (which we never actually see) under siege. Dozens of soldiers are descending on the brave Shaolin warriors and Gordon Lui (“36th Chamber of Shaolin,” “Kill Bill“) gets a stand-out cameo where he fends most of them off. The film then turns its focus to Chen Kuan Tai and his bride-to-be and almost becomes a kung-fu romantic comedy. Chen Kuan falls in love with Lilly Li but his Shaolin brothers continually give him shit about it. His buddies even try to listen in on the happy couple’s wedding night! Chen Kaun has way more patience than me; I’d be unleashing my tiger fist on these guys.

All the while, Chen Kuan is training to get his martial arts skills up to snuff so he can take on the evil Pai Mei and avenge the death of his Master, which occurred during the opening credits. Chen Kuan has to wait 17 years to try and take revenge; this has to be be some kind of record for an action movie (they only imprisoned “Oldboy” for 15!). Things don’t go quite as planned and eventually Chen Kuan’s son, played by Wong Yu, must take up the mission to defeat Pai Mei.

Wong Yu is a naturally gifted and comedic performer who’s a lot of fun to watch; unfortunately, the costume department saddled him with one of the worst haircuts and wardrobes I’ve ever seen in a kung-fu movie. He basically has little buns or pigtails in his hair and is decked out in what looks like a Hawaiin tourist shirt. The fact that he still manages to be a bad-ass in the movie is a testament to his talent as a martial artist and actor.

I’m not sure if I responded well to the film’s various shifts in genre but I can’t deny that Pai Mei makes for one of the finest kung-fu movie villains of all time. He does that over-the-top, evil laugh you almost expect from a Shaw Brothers baddie but more than that he’s got a cool, emotionless look with those long gray eyebrows and incredible fighting skills. He’s practically invincible and he fears no one. Though I gotta say, it was weird how everybody kept trying to punch and kick him in the balls…and then Pai Mei would trap their limbs between his thighs…yeah, uh, quite odd. Chen Kuan and his son even go for the crotch area on their training dummy. This is a very testicles-focused martial arts film. I get that this region is a serious weak point on any dude’s body but in “Executioner From Shaolin” it’s a bit overdone. Fortunately, the ending kicks ass and concludes on an appropriately epic freeze frame.

“Executioner From Shaolin” is one of the quirkier Shaw Brothers movies I can think of. What begins as a tale of blood-thirsty revenge slows down to become at times a romantic comedy and domestic drama. But it still has the classic training sequences that you expect from director Lau Kar-leung (“36 Chamber of Shaolin,” “The 8 Diagram Pole Fighter“) and one of hell of a bad guy in Pai Mei. If you wondered where Quentin Tarantino took inspiration for Gordon Liu’s white-browed, crotchety martial arts instructor in “Kill Bill,” this is it!

HKFanatic’s Rating: 7/10

By Mighty Peking Man

Hung Hze-Kwan (Chen Kuan-Tai) is one of the lucky survivors who barely escaped Pai Mei’s (Lo Lieh) attack on the Shaolin Temple. When Hung Hze-Kwan finds out the high priest (Lee Hoi Sang) was killed during the raid, he dedicates his whole life to getting revenge on Pai Mei.

Soon after the events of the attack, Hung Hze-Kwan flees to Canton where he marries the girl of his dreams (Lily Li), and the two have a baby boy named Wen-Ding (Hsiao Hou). In between being a family man, Hung Hze-Kwan begins his Tiger Syle training and practices it for 10 long years.

Thinking he’s ready to take on Pai Mei, he heads over to his temple and prepares for the ultimate battle. To make a long story short, Hung Hze-Kwan loses. However, he gains more knowledge about his weakness, and observes that you have to hit certain areas, at certain times, in order to defeat him.

I first saw Executioners From Shaolin about 20 years ago. It was the dubbed, panned & scanned VHS version. The film stayed fresh in my mind throughout the years, but what really stuck in my head was how it broke the usual kung fu film mold: intead of your typical train, then take on the main bad guy and win routine, we get a train, then take on the bad guy, lose, train again, take on the bad guy again, then followed by a different guy trains, with a different approach, then takes on the bad guy… It’s a long and winding process, but you know what, it’s entertaining the whole way through.

I’m not sure if I can put the brilliance of Liu Chia-Liang’s filmmaking into words: You have the well-configured choreography, crazy techniques (what’s up with Pai Mei’s crotch hold?) and inventive training devices (I don’t know about you, but I never saw a training dummy filled with moving-metal balls in Black Belt Magazine) – not to mention slick production values, which is a norm for most Shaw Brothers flicks.

Then you have the pre-credit sequence… actually, no, it’s a fight scene that plays during the credit sequence. How cool is that? You get to see who’s in the movie while there’s some chunky action going on. James Bond flicks don’t even give you that.

Lo Lei’s portrayal of the indestructible Pai Mei became such a popular villain amongst fans, that the character was resurrected various times, in some way or another, in a handful of films – most notably in Fist of the White Lotus (where he’s called ‘White Lotus’). Pai Mei even appears in Quentin Tarantino’s Kill Bill Vol. 2 (played by Gordon Liu).

If you’re looking for a straight up kung fu flick with no bullshit, it doesn’t get any better than this. Yeah, some people will say it’s slow, dull or whatever; only someone who owns the Criterion Collection DVD of Armageddon would be dumb enough to say something like that.

Executioners From Shaolin is a must see.

Mighty Peking Man’s Rating: 10/10

The post Executioners from Shaolin | aka Shaolin Executioner (1977) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“The Teahouse” Chinese Theatrical Poster

Director: Kuei Chih Hung
Cast: Chen Kuan Tai, Yeung Chi Hing, Lee Sau Kei, Karen Yip Ling Chi, Ha Ping, Cheung Chok Chow, Shum Lo, Fung King Man, Chung Chaan Chi, Yeung Chak Lam, Wong Yu, Chan Laap Ban, Chan Mei Hua, Chan Shen, Ching Gong, Fan Mei Sheng
Running Time: 96 min.

By JJ Hatfield

“The Teahouse” is a story on film more than a movie. It begins rather peacefully and simply about rather ordinary people in increasingly complex to dire circumstances. This is a beautiful dramatic piece of work directed by Kuei Chih Hung. There were a tremendous number of people in the cast though many have short time on screen.

This is one of the few films I have seen in the general genre that is actually fully explored. Chen Kuan Tai (Big Brother) Wang Chen is a good man living in increasingly bad times. Despite that the has managed to take his work from a street vendor to a (modern day) restaurant he named “The Teahouse.”

Unfortunately the area had become vioelnce ridden with every kind of crime possible. Before long the people may as well be living in a war zone.

Wang Cheng has always been helpful to people and the villagers seek out his assistance. Big Brother has already made a decision.

The cast put forth a lot of effort into acting, including Chen Kuan Tai. The characters are fleshed out so that you really begin to care about them. Present in the film are the same as in real life – love, passion, romance, anger, joy, sorrow, ecstasy and pain. One of the finest features of this film is the deliverance of some very powerful performances by a very dedicated cast and crew.

The original story was written by Chiang Chih Nan and in some places Sze To On (same person?) is listed as the writer. The story line is simple enough at first but increases in tone and pace as events take place.

Chen kuan Tai is an excellent fighter but this is not a martial arts film! If that’s all the viewer wants skip this wonderful experience. There is action to be sure and some of it is quite savagely realistic however this is a movie not a “kick ass martial madness flick”. The action comes more as a part of life and choices. There is much I could say about the plot but I won’t. The viewer needs to experience this film from a fresh angle.

The cinematography by Yu Chi is beautiful capturing the rays of the sun or an intimate moment filmed as if the camera dose not want to intrude.

Action director Tony Ching Siu Tun had his hands full with the action!

I cannot emphasize enough how wonderful this film truly is and it might just change how you think about “action” films. This film is a well rounded treasure everyone needs to see!

Recommendation: A Must See!!

JJ Hatfield’s Rating: 9/10

The post Teahouse, The | aka The Tea House (1974) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“Crippled Avengers” Chinese Theatrical Poster

AKA: Crippled Heroes
Director: Chang Cheh
Cast: Chen Kuan Tai, Lu Feng, Philip Kwok, Johnny Wang, Lo Meng, Chiang Sheng, Sun Chien, Dick Wei, Jamie Luk Kim Ming, Cheng Miu, Helen Poon Bing Seung, Chan Hung, Chow Kin Ping, Chui Tai Ping, Ha Kwok Wing
Running Time: 99 min.

By Joe909

This is often considered the Venoms’ best movie, though I prefer a few others to it. It has action, cool characters, crazy special effects, and intricate choreography, but it just seems to be missing something, if you’ll pardon the pun. Or maybe it’s just that I don’t like movies where the main characters are maimed and crippled within the first twenty minutes. But then again, if they weren’t, then this would be a very different movie.

The plot is the usual Shaw Brothers simple, which is to say, perfect. When I’m watching a kung-fu movie, I don’t want Shakespeare. I want blood and vengeance, and no one delivered it better than the Shaws. The opening of the movie lets you know what you’re in for: directly after the credits, Chen Kuan-Tai’s wife gets her legs cut off (and immediately dies, no doubt, of shock) and his young son gets his hands lopped off. This would make you think that Chen and his son are the heroes of the movie, and they’ll get revenge. But no, it turns out that Chen goes bad, and he raises his son to become a heartless machine with really cool metal hands. Lu Feng (portraying Chen’s grown up son) is the coolest thing about this movie. He’s like a kung-fu Darth Vader, with his Mazinger hands that shoot darts. Chen and Feng rule their village with an (wait for it) iron grip. First Feng cold-bloodedly cripples the sons of the men who cut off his arms. Then father and son go on to blind a journeyman (Kuo Choi), render a blacksmith (Lo Meng) deaf and mute, cut off the legs of some guy who just got fired from his job (Sun Chien), and crush a kung-fu warrior’s skull until he becomes an idiot (Chiang Sheng).

The crippled guys become friends, and decide to take Chiang Sheng back to his teacher, as they feel it’s their fault that he was made into an idiot; Chang had went to Chen’s place to get revenge for the way he treated our crippled heroes. So they haul themselves off to the old man’s secluded school, where he teaches them forms of kung-fu that improve their lot in life: Kuo Choi learns how to use his ears better than he ever used his eyes; Sun Chien is given iron feet with which he can shatter anything; Lo Meng learns how to use his sight to compensate for his lack of hearing; and Chiang Sheng basically becomes a better martial artist than ever: he just has the mental capacity of a two year-old.

What’s great about Shaw Brothers movies is how fast time flies, literally. We see a few minutes of training, and then the teacher says “You’ve been here for three years.” The teacher’s done his work; in a cool shot, we see Sun Chien, Kuo Choi, and Lo Meng walk proudly out of his school, complete men once again. What follows is fight scene after fight scene, most of which are unnecessary, but nevertheless amazing. Kuo Choi or Lo Meng will corner Chen Kuan-Tai’s first lieutenant, beat his ass around, and then he’ll run away. What it all boils down to is that Chen’s birthday is coming up, and this guy doesn’t want Kuo Choi et al to interfere with the festivities. So he hires a few thugs to take them down, and we get to watch the Crippled Avengers handle them, biding their time until they can get to Chen Kuan-Tai and Lu Feng.

And when they do, we get a phenomenal final battle that incorporates pole fighting, sword fighting, lots of flips, some incredible hoop work, and the usual martial arts fortitude displayed by the Venoms, with Chen Kuan-Tai proving their equal. If I had to level one criticism, it would be that this fight is a bit too choreographed; many times as Kuo Choi, Lu Feng, and Chiang Sheng are flipping and leaping around, it doesn’t even look like they’re trying to hit each other, more like they’re just showing off. The finale features the usual sacrifice as favored by Chang Cheh, but, shockingly enough, the heroes actually live through this movie (save for one, of course). In fact, this is one of the few movies in which Lo Meng survives.

It’s really hard for me to pick a favorite Venoms movie. Five Venoms had the tighter story, but didn’t give the Venoms a chance to strut their stuff. Crippled Avengers does for sure, but the story loses focuses in the last half, so that the action may prevail. That being said, the fight scenes are great, as is the costuming and set design. And Lu Feng’s just too cool in this one, giving us one of the greatest villains in old school kung-fu. So even though it might not be my favorite Venoms movie, I can see why it is for so many others. And as a final enticement, the DVD release is actually uncut and letterboxed, but supposedly Celestial will release a remastered version on DVD in Fall 2004.

Joe909’s Rating: 9.5/10

By Numskull

I quote Kool-Aid Man: “Oh yeeeaaahhhhh!!!”

This is a very solid old school martial arts movie that entertains on a very visceral level but also boasts a fair amount of ingenuity. It’s about four guys who run afoul of a local tyrant (Chen Kuan-Tai) and his equally heavy-handed (terrible joke) son (Lu Feng). For daring to stand against them and their bullying servants, each of them is violently maimed or handicapped in some way; one is blinded (Kuo Choi/Philip Kwok), another is rendered both deaf and mute (Lo Meng), another’s legs are severed below the knee (Sun Chien), and the noble-hearted wandering warrior (Cheng Shiang) who tries to set things right gets brain damaged thanks to a head-squeezing torture device. This last one is returned to his martial arts teacher by the other three, and they begin training with him to overcome their physical limitations and get some much-deserved payback. Kuo Choi learns to rely on his ears far more than a normal man, Lo Meng develops heightened awareness of his surroundings (and a habit of carrying mirrors) to compensate for his deafness, and Sun Chien gets fitted with a pair of iron feet.

After some very spiffy training sequences, it’s time for some equally spiffy fight scenes. The skill and physical prowess of the performers will make you curse the day that “martial arts” movies decided to depend more on pretty faces, wires, and camera tricks than on genuine talent. After we’ve seen our heroes develop great chemistry together, helping one another overcome their respective disabilities, we see them fight together in much the same manner, especially Kuo Choi and Lo Meng, who receive more spotlight than their companions in the film’s second half. This, to me, is the most irritating aspect of Crippled Avengers; I wanted to see all four of them fighting side by side and in more equal measure.

Though “Crippled Avengers” is the most sensible of this film’s numerous titles, the version I watched was the “Return of the Five Deadly Venoms” DVD from Crash Cinema; English dubbed (of course) and letterboxed. That title is rather misleading since this is in no way a sequel to Five Deadly Venoms; it merely uses the same actors in the leading roles. Such is the case with other films proudly bearing the “Venoms” label. And, once again, no female characters of any significance (unless you count Chen Kuan-Tai’s wife, who dies about two minutes into the film…so we won’t).

Numskull’s Rating: 8/10

The post Crippled Avengers | aka Mortal Combat (1978) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“The Flying Guillotine” Chinese Theatrical Poster

Director: Ho Meng Hua
Producer: Runme Shaw
Cast: Chen Kuan Tai, Ku Feng, Wai Wang, Kong Yeung, Liu Wu Chi, Ai Ti, Lin Wei-Tu, Wang Yu, Li Peng-Fei, Li Shou-Chi, Lu Wei, Lin Feng, Shen Lao, Chiang Ling, Wu Chin-Chin, Hsu Kuan-Ying, Lei Lung, Ho Han-Chou
Running Time: 101 min.

By Joe909

Flying Guillotine is not a kung fu movie. Tell yourself that before watching it, and you might not be let down, because those expecting an old-school basher are going to be disappointed. Flying Guillotine is more of a historical epic with horror and kung fu overtones. The producers take the campy material and for the most part play it straight; therefore, this movie is about as far as you can get from a Chang Cheh piece.

Chen Kuan-Tai is among a squad of elite commandos chosen by the emperor to master the flying guillotine, a new killing device, which was created by the emperor’s adjutant, Ku Feng. The movie almost takes on aspects of a war film, as we see the men in a boot camp environment, going through drills. Here friendships and rivalries bloom; particularly, a nasty feud develops between Chen, the top soldier, and Frankie Wai, who unbeknownst to the others is a spy for the emperor.

Eventually the squad is sent out on a few assassination missions, each of which take place in the dead of night, the commandos in their cool black uniforms running silently across rooftops. Kuan-Tai soon realizes that the men they’re killing are all high-ranking, respected officials who have dared to speak out against the emperor. The bastard is using the squad to quietly rub out all those who disrespect him. When a fellow squad member figures this out, and also how omniscient the emperor seems to be, he freaks out, and it’s only a matter of time until he becomes a squad target. Frankie Wai meanwhile sets Chen up to be the next victim of the squad, intimating to the emperor that he’s a traitor. Chen is informed of this by a fellow squad member still smart enough to question his superiors, and so Chen gets the hell out of town.

While on the run, he encounters a young, attractive street performer, who helps him evade his cronies, who are now in pursuit. In one of those life-changing decisions characters make without a second’s thought in old-school movies, Chen decides to marry this girl and run off into the woods with her, to live out a life of anonymity. Crazy thing is, it actually works, and they get several months of peace. We catch up with them, living in a small farming community, on the night Chen’s wife is about to give birth. In a great dramatic twist, a few of Chen’s former teammates finally locate him, and launch an attack while his wife’s giving birth. Chen takes them on in fury, barely escaping their guillotines.

Chen and his wife and new son move off again, and this time they actually get two whole years of respite. The squad continues to hunt him, more determined than ever. In particular, Frankie Wai wants him dead. The squad member who warned him earlier is the first to find Chen, and tells him all that’s happened in the past two years. While they’re talking, Frankie Wai sneaks up, tears the dude’s head off with his guillotine, and gets in a quick fight with Chen before running away.

Sending his family off, Chen goes to a blacksmith and devises a weapon to counteract the guillotine. Basically, it’s a metal umbrella. Mere moments after a couple prototypes are created, Chen’s attacked by a few squad members. The umbrella proves effective, but he’s able to get hold of a guillotine himself, and proves fatally to his former mates that he’s just as deadly with them as ever. Now the stage is set for a final standoff between Chen and Frankie Wai, the last squad member standing.

The Flying Guillotine pays more attention to plot, character interaction, and drama than your normal old-school movie. In many ways, this film resembles something from director Liu Chia-Liang, except that whereas Liu generally avoided having carbon cut-out villains in his film, director Hoh Mung-Wa makes Frankie Wai and the emperor pure evil. You love to hate both of these guys, and they both pull off their roles well. Chen Kuan-Tai is the emotional heart of the movie, and it’s refreshing to see a kung fu film with a hero who’s more concerned about his wife and child than his honor. Lau Ng-Kei, who plays Chen’s wife, is also great throughout, able to provide spunk, as in the scene in which she sidetracks the squad members searching for Chen, as well as scenes of heartbreaking emotion. Ku Feng is, as always, great in his role, making his nervous character worthy of both hate and pity.

The violence level is high, although there isn’t that much blood. Tons of people are beheaded, and usually all we see is the corpse flopping around afterwards, legs kicking spasmodically. It’s pure camp fun. Costuming is impeccable, but instead of the Chang Cheh-type kung fu garb, everyone wears more traditional and historically-accurate Ching-era wardrobe. The sets are the usual Shaw Brothers impressive, especially the outdoor scenes of the city during the nighttime raids. What little kung fu that’s featured unfortunately isn’t that great, falling squarely into the “clumsy” category.

Flying Guillotine was a huge success, and plans were instantly formed for a sequel. However, problems arose between Hoh Mung-Wa and the Shaws, which resulted in him leaving the project, as well as the majority of the actors in this film. Ti Lung stepped in to take over Chen Kuan-Tai’s role, and Ku Feng took over the role of the emperor. But that’s a story for another review.

Joe909’s Rating: 7/10

The post Flying Guillotine, The (1975) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

"Men from the Monastery" Chinese Theatrical Poster

Director: Chang Cheh
Writer: Chang Cheh, Ni Kuang
Cast: Chen Kuan Tai, Alexander Fu Sheng, Kong Do, Lo Dik, Jamie Luk Kim Ming, Dang Tak Cheung, Feng Yi, Fung Hak On, Gam Gwan, Ho Pak Kwong, Hsu Hsia
Running Time: 92 min.

By Joe909

One of Chang Cheh’s “Shaolin Cycle” of movies made in Taiwan in the mid-1970s, Men from the Monastery features a unique storytelling approach, an impressive cast, and choreography from master Liu Chia-Liang. It’s not nearly as good as Chang’s Five Shaolin Masters, but it’s worth tracking down.

The film is separated into four mini-movies, the first three concentrating on the three main characters, the last featuring the three of them united as the titular heroes. This storytelling format is one of the main things that drew me to the movie. Chang even increases the artsy quotient by introducing the actors before each mini-movie, and then finally displaying the title in the fourth and final mini-film. More artiness is on show throughout the movie, as in Chang’s other Shaolin movies: namely the occasional use of black and white and colored lens gels. All of this proves that Chang was still putting solid work into his films at this time, before retiring to the quickly-produced Venoms movies of later years.

The first mini-movie (the first three are about fifteen minutes long each) concerns Fu Sheng as Fong Sai-Yuk, who decides it’s time to leave Shaolin. Unfortunately, you can’t just walk out, but instead must pass through the “alley of death.” This is a maze of various traps Fong must avoid. In all honesty, this whole alley of death sequence comes off pretty hokey and low-budget. In fact, there is a definite low-budget feel to this movie, as most scenes take place outdoors, and those sets that are used, such as the alley, are minimal and inferior to the usual Shaws set design. Of course, Fong is able to leave Shaolin. He goes back to his hometown, only to find that it’s been taken over by a Ching bastard who fights men to the death while standing on poles. Fong takes the guy on, each of them standing on poles, a bed of spikes beneath them. This fight is equal to the finale of a regular movie, but here it’s just the end of Fong’s story, which leads directly into the next mini-movie.

The next “chapter” introduces Chi Kuan-Chun, who plays Hu Wei-Chien. He’s having trouble with a local gang of Ching bullies. They beat the shit out of Hu every chance they get, but he keeps coming back for more, regardless of his woman’s pleading. Finally Fong Sai-Yuk shows up and tells him to go to Shaolin Temple, where he can learn how to fight these guys. Hu goes, and we get a super fast-forward as he instantly returns, three years later, ready to kick ass. What Fong’s been doing all this time isn’t mentioned, but he’s there, ready to help his pal get revenge.

The third mini-film is all about Hung Sze-Kwan, as played by Chen Kuan-Tai. Hung’s running a guerrilla war against the Chings, but realizes he’s just one man, and can’t kill them all. Eventually he hooks up with Fong Sai-Yuk and Hu Wei-Chien, and the three of them manage to get rid of some Ching spies. It’s at this point the trio discovers that Shaolin has been burned to the ground. It’s payback time!

The burning of Shaolin leads into the fourth and final mini-movie. The three heroes hole up with several comrades and train themselves, knowing a Ching assault is soon to come. Sure enough it does, and this last half of the movie is wall-to-wall action. At many points it gets very gory, with men getting impaled by swords and spears and bleeding profusely, but all of this is filmed in black and white, to obscure the gore. Apparently this isn’t just US censorship; the Asian prints are supposedly the same. I guess we’ll find out for sure whenever Celestial gets around to releasing a remastered print. Two of the three heroes give their lives for the cause, one of them dying in a particularly-disturbing manner. This finale isn’t as thrilling as I would’ve wished, as the film lacks any memorable villains to root against.

Acting is uniformly strong, though Fu Sheng’s martial abilities aren’t as believable this early in his career. He’s also not nearly as comedic as in other films, instead playing Fong Sai-Yuk as a grimly determined hell raiser. Chi Kuan-Chun however was always a capable martial artist, and it’s hard buying it when he gets his ass handed to him repetitively throughout the first half of his story. Chen Kuan-Tai turns in the solid performance one would expect. And unusually for a Chang movie, a handful of women have important roles in the film, none of them cardboard cutouts.

Currently this film is available as a very low-grade Panmedia DVD. Only get it if you’ve got a jones to see the movie. Otherwise, wait for the Celestial remaster. I’m sure seeing this movie in remastered widescreen will improve the experience greatly. I’ll miss the English dub, though. Whereas most old-school movies feature English dubbing by guys with British or Kiwi accents, Men from the Monastery features actors with SEVERE British accents, which adds to the fun factor. I kept expecting someone to say: “Roit, luv, drop ’em!” or something to that effect. Several Shaw Brothers movies, such as Liu Chia-Liang’s Executioners from Shaolin, Lo Lieh’s Clan of the White Lotus, or Chang Cheh’s Venoms flick Shaolin Rescuers could serve as direct sequels to this film, so seek those out if you want to know “the rest of the story.”

Joe909’s Rating: 7.5/10

The post Men from the Monastery | aka Disciples of Death (1974) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“The Savage Five” Chinese Theatrical Poster

Director: Chang Cheh
Producer: Sir Run Run Shaw
Cast: David Chiang, Ti Lung, Chen Kuan Tai, Danny Lee, Wong Chung, Wai Wang, Wang Ping-Ping, Lu Ti, Kong Do, Wong Ching, Jamie Luk, Ngaai Fei, Yen Shi Kwan
Running Time: 91 min.

By Mighty Peking Man

A gang of bandits take refuge in a small town, where they force a locksmith to open a stolen safe containing cash and gold. During their stay, the men decide to have a little fun by beating, raping and murdering innocent people. Amongst the town folk, five guys (David Chiang, Ti Lung, Chen Kuan Tai, Danny Lee and Wang Chung) decide to man-up and take the evil bastards on — hence, the “Savage Five.”

Most of the time, The Savage Five feels more like a Spaghetti Western than a kung fu flick, which is probably intentional. It doesn’t help that a lot of the “borrowed” soundtrack contains snippets of Ennio Morricone’s score from Giulio Petroni’s 1968 flick “Death Rides A Horse.” Plus, you got the whole Western themes going on: small peaceful town disrupted, a locked safe, and a main bad guy, whose weapons of death is not his hands, feet, knife or sword, but a pair of pistols. Also, gun power plays an explosive part of the film’s climax.

For the most part, The Savage Five is pretty straight forward as far as the plot goes. Nothing unusual or no real surprises are uncovered. One thing that is refreshing about the film is none of the five men are good at kung fu; this is why courage, from more or less average men, is probably the main focus of the film.

As far as the action, those who are familiar with Chang Cheh’s work will get what they expect: lots of bloody violence and heroic deaths. Lau Kar-Leung’s choreography is solid, and is not the typical “swinging arm” bullshit we get with most pre-1975 martial arts flicks. Of course, this is what makes most Shaw Brothers projects so special: the ease of creating an all-round quality piece of entertainment.

Mighty Peking Man’s Rating: 8/10

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

“Human Lanterns” Chinese Theatrical Poster

Director: Sun Chung
Cast: Lau Wing, Lo Lieh, Chen Kuan Tai, Tien Ni, Sun Chien, Choh Seung Wan, Lam Sau Kwan, Lo Meng, Ngaai Fei, Siu Yam Yam, Erik Chan, Cheng Miu, Cheung Chok Chow, Fung King Man, Ha Ping, Hon Lai Fan, Lam Chi Tai
Running Time: 95 min.

By Mighty Peking Man

Long before Anthony Wong was serving human Chinese “pork” buns in Untold Story (1993), Lo Lieh was kidnapping woman and making beautiful Chinese lanterns out of their freshly peeled human skin.

One thing I like about Human Lanterns is that it’s straight forward and crystal clear. It’s almost as if Suen Chung puts himself in the viewers’ shoes when he’s planning his storytelling process. The characters are well thought out with a flash of differentiation (Lau Wing and Chen Kuan Tai have a great chemistry). There’s mystery, but no real twisty secrets that many films rely on. Everything is pretty much in-your-face with no bullshit attached.

Human Lanterns has a fine balance of well-choreographed martial arts, a hint of horror and a pleasant amount of gore. As you’d probably expect, action is still the main showcase of the movie. With a title like Human Lanterns, you’d expect a lot of explicit imagery; there is, but not a whole lot, but as long as you’re expecting a “kung fu movie” first, you’ll be pleased if you’re hunting for a dose of shock value.

I wonder how this flick would turn out in the brutality department if someone like Chang Cheh directed it (I have a feeling the guy would go nuts over the blood and gore), but as it stands, Suen Chung did a great job as is and any drastic change would only lesson the film’s appeal.

Human Lanterns is my first and only venture into the films of Suen Chung. Judging from what I saw here, I wouldn’t mind checking out more of his work.

Look for memorable guest appearances by Venoms Lo Meng (as a contract killer) and Sun Chien (as a cop).

Mighty Peking Man’s Rating: 8/10

The post Human Lanterns | aka Human Skin Lanterns (1982) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“Gallants” Hong Kong Theatrical Poster

AKA: The Gallants
Director: Derek Kwok
Co-director: Clement Cheng
Cast: Wong You Nam, Teddy Robin Kwan, Bruce Leong, Chen Kuan-tai, Michael Chan Wai-man, Lo Meng, Jin Au-Yeung, Jia Xiao-Chen, Shaw Yum Yum
Running Time: 98 min.

By Jeff Bona

Cheung (Wong You Nam) is a nerdy loser who has a bottom-of-the-barrel job for a real estate company. His boss, who has had enough of his incompetence, gives him a special assignment: settling a property development dispute in a rural village.

This brings Cheung to the door steps of an old teahouse, that was once a kung fu school until its legendary teacher, Master Law (Teddy Robin Kwan), fell into a coma during a famous duel. The teahouse is operated by Dragon (Chen Kuan-tai) and Tiger (Bruce Leung), two of Master Law’s original students. Transforming the school into a teahouse was their way of keeping the school afloat while they eagerly wait for their sifu to awaken.

Meanwhile, trouble is brewing. A group of local thugs, connected to a shady martial arts competition, are after the real estate in which the teahouse stands. Miraculously, Master Law awakens in the midst of the sticky situation. Now Cheung, Tiger, Dragon, and a very confused Master Law, must bound together to keep their honor, dignity and the spirit of their school alive.

Gallants is a creative, trippy and nostalgic nod to kung fu movies of the 1970’s. It’s all here: the Joseph Koo-esque soundtrack, the fast zooming, and the crisp, pleasantly undercranked martial arts sequences. Even animated cut scenes designed to signify the impact of a kick or punch (comparable to Sonny Chiba’s X-ray head-smash in The Street Fighter) are thrown in to top off the film’s artistic flare.

Starring legendary actors/actresses and martial arts stars of yesteryear: Teddy Robin Kwan (Run Tiger Run), Bruce Leung (The Dragon Lives Again), Chen Kuan-tai (Executioners from Shaolin), Michael Chan Wai-man (Five Elements Ninjas), Lo Meng (Five Deadly Venoms) and Shaw Yum Yum (The Chinatown Kid). The fact that all these Hong Kong legends are in the same movie is a dream come true, especially if you’re a fan of the old school films they’re known for.

Teddy Robin Kwan nails his role like a champ. I admit, I haven’t seen him in a lot of movies, but I don’t think I would be out of line to call this one of his best-handled roles ever. To a similar extent, the same can be said about Chen Kuan-tai and Bruce Leung, who get the most “action” screen-time. Of course you have the new generation of talent: Wong You Nam (rising actor and member of music duo “Shine”), Jin Au-Yeung (aka MC Jin, hip hop musician turned actor) and Jia Xiao-Chen (model turned actress).

Directors Derek Kwok and Clement Cheng are perfect examples of some of Hong Kong’s more experimental filmmakers. Their humor lies somewhere between Stephen Chow and Mike Judge. Their filmmaking craft equals an inspired Quentin Tarantino and their thought process is that of a grown man’s love for a good ol’ kung fu flick.

Jeff Bona’s Rating: 8/10

The post Gallants (2009) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.