I often have a hard time deciding which of Tsui Hark's films I like the best, but The Blade is one that is always under consideration. Like Dangerous Encounters, it is violent, dark, and angry, and like We're Going To Eat You, it is tense and perfectly paced. It is inventive with its action choreography like Once Upon a Time in China, and it is simply a gorgeous film, a treat for the eyes and ears, like Peking Opera Blues. However, even though it shares the qualities of Tsui Hark's best directorial work, it is also unique and more mature than anything he had done before, or has done since.

Like The One-Armed Swordsman, The Blade is a multi-layered study of martial arts, manhood, and brotherhood. The term “homoerotic” is often thrown about in discussions because of how it fetishizes the male body and the psychosexual symbolism of the sword. I think this is a lazy categorization of the themes on display because it is often done at the expense of the jiang hu: the world of the insider, the milieu of the martial artists, and everything important to their existence. It is easy to write off the bare-chested, heroic bloodshed of martial heroes as displays of homoeroticism because we are outsiders, we are not part of their jiang hu, and so we do not understand their intense feelings of brotherhood and camaraderie; it is easy to misinterpret intense feelings of brotherhood for sexual attraction. I am not saying that the homoeroticism isn't there, I just wish it was wasn't among the first “serious” topics of discussion critics and scholars often turn to.

The two “brothers” in The Blade are Ding On and To Tao, two young men who work at a sword factory where the best swords in the land are made. The two are more than friends, they are like brothers, and share the same qualities as siblings, even the rivalry. They both see themselves as protectors of one girl, their master's daughter, and as would-be lovers for another, an attractive prostitute. They also see each other has “martial heroes,” and act accordingly when a monk is brutally murdered by a local gang of thugs. When their master retires, he passes control of the sword factory onto Ding On, much to the chagrin of To Tao and the other brothers. This causes a rift in Ding On's and To Tao's brotherhood, and is one catalyst for a series of life changing events, including a severed sword-arm and the nearly complete destruction of the sword factory.

Because the narrative is full of such strong archetypes and recognizable themes, Tsui is able to craft a film that rewards emotion and flows with ease. Even I, a huge admirer of the director, will admit that Tsui's narratives are often times hard to follow. He often works in montage, and only shows the briefest of plot snippets and characterization needed to register in the minds of the audience. The Blade is not such a film, and this is why I consider it one of his best; it is a film that could even win over those who may not like similar films in the genre. It is more traditionally paced and plotted, and therefore, it is one of his most accessible films in terms of narrative and execution.

The film is also teeming with patented Tsui Hark style, it is a premier example of the director's auteurism. The best of his work simply overflows with infectious, kinetic energy, and The Blade practically explodes from the cinematic depth-charge. The camera is constantly moving and creating tension during the action sequences, as it is used to heighten the disorientation felt by the combatants. The action in the film is not traditional kung fu, nor is it the typical wire-fu more common in the Hong Kong fantasy-action films of the 1990s.

The action in The Blade is fast and furious, and looks dangerous. There are more than a few times where I grit my teeth in preparation for a wound, and wince when the wound is inflicted; it is far more “slam dance” than “ballet”. Tsui Hark pushes the camera in with absurd close-ups during many of the violent exchanges, during which only the combatants' gnashing jowls and the flashes of cold steal are revealed. However, this is not done out of incompetence, or Tsui's inability to frame a shot properly, it is done on purpose, and done to create a new kind of action spectacle. The focus of the action in The Blade is not on the fluid movement of the participants or their weapons, but it is instead on the intense feelings of anger and emotion tangled up in the conflict.

Like many great films, The Blade only gets better with each passing year and with each subsequent release in the genre. It is a landmark film, although one that is often overlooked by both martial arts film fans and critics of world cinema. It may be a bit too dark for some, and I have a hard time seeing the casual fans of films like Hero or Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon really embracing Tsui Hark's violent vision. Not that there is anything wrong with these more casual martial arts films, God knows I am in love with both mentioned, but there is a quality about The Blade that cuts deep into the heart of the thematic elements associated with martial arts cinema, a quality that some may be put off by. However there is also a quality that represents near cinematic perfection, a rare quality that Tsui Hark has managed to hit a few brilliant times.

Dangerous Encounters is punk-rock cinema to through and through. Now when I say "punk-rock," I don't mean the trendy fashion; you won't find any lose hanging suspenders, towering mohawks, Doc Martins, or spiked bracelets here. When I say "punk-rock," I am talking about the bona fide ethos, the "I don't give a damn about anything or anyone" attitude embraced by the film's narrative and director. Dangerous Encounters is one of Hong Kong's most infamous films. It was the victim of government censorship, both at home and abroad, and is considered by many admirers to be one of the most nihilistic films ever made. Even though I was armed with this knowledge before watching the film, I was still shocked by how angry and nasty it was. I don't know what kind of demons haunted Tsui while making this film, but it is apparent that the film was cathartic, because he didn't tackle another as socially angst-charged until the mid '90s with The Blade.

The narrative is quite simple, and, even though the tone is vastly different from the majority of his work, it is undeniably Tsui Hark. Many of his films find a group of stranger-protagonists unwillingly caught in the middle of a life and death struggle - they become accidental pawns in the throngs of chaos. His heroes are rarely the kind that ride into town prepared to save the day, but instead they frequently find themselves having to fight just to stay alive. And while this narrative does contain these elements, it is different still because there are no heroes to be found at all. All of the main characters in the film are living on various levels of immorality and selfishness. The shit hits the pavement when three juvenile males steal a car for a joyride, and, through sheer stupidity, end up hitting and killing a pedestrian. They then try to flee the scene, but soon find themselves at the mercy of a lone witness, a deranged young woman who blackmails them into servitude and terrorism.

Pearl (a name drenched in irony), the female lead, is one of the most cold-hearted, angry, and manipulative characters I have ever seen. I can't even call her an anti-hero because there is nothing even remotely heroic about her; in any other film she would be the A-number-one villain, she is evil to the core, and a product of both nature and nurture. However, Pearl is not the only immoral and misanthropic character in the film; it wallows in such devious characterizations. From the three bi-speckled weakling-nerds cum reluctant urban-terrorists, to the arms-dealing Vietnam War vets, Dangerous Encounters is a study of the foul inhabitants living in a nasty concrete jungle polluted with feelings of alienation, xenophobia, anger, and nihilism.

However, as bleak the film may be, it still exemplifies the director's unique aesthetic vision. Tsui's films are indeed full of motion and movement, and here there are two key sequences that illustrate his amazing ability to harness and capture cinematic energy. The first of these is when Pearl decides that she would like to set her boy-toys on fire. While walking home from school one day, the three boys are surprised when Pearl shows up. In one flame-proof gloved-hand, she is holding a fire ball, and, in the other, a bucket of gasoline. She douses the boys with the explosive-liquid and then chases them around, desperately trying to cook them alive. The other such sequence is the film's blood-drenched showdown, which is symbolically staged in a huge cemetery - where else would damned and unwanted degenerates go to stage their finale? The cemetery chase/action sequence is gorgeously filmed and represents an antithesis of action “choreography;” this is not the bullet-ballet typically associated with HK action cinema. No, this is closer to Sam Peckinpah, and Tsui uses the violence to show the depths people can sink to when they see no other choice - fatalistic to be sure.

While I whole heartedly recommend this extreme film, my recommendation comes with a caveat: this film is not for everyone, and some will be disgusted by a number of sequences. A word of caution must be raised about one sequence in particular, one that will forever haunt my mind. When we first meet Pearl, in one of the most clear-cut and defining character introductions ever filmed, we learn that her anger and hatred does not discriminate against God's furry little creatures. I don't want to go into the details, but there is a scene of real animal (a mouse) cruelty, and while it clearly and expertly establishes her character, there is still no way I can come close to justifying this appalling act. I sat wide eyed and disturbed, and a little sick to my stomach while watching it.

Even beyond the scenes of cruelty and violence, there is no way a film like Dangerous Encounters would be made today - it is far too subversive; this film took balls to make. Even the bleakness and violence in films like The Proposition and Pan's Labyrinth can't compete with what is on display in Tsui's film, because as nasty as it all is, he injects a twisted sense of fun about the whole thing. I started to believe that his characters were getting a kick out of all the decadence, that even while they lay dying in their own blood and vomit, somewhere, deep inside their decrepit souls, they were laughing and enjoying the death and destruction in the name of absolutely nothing. But this is more shocking still: I started to believe that Tsui Hark himself was enjoying the carnage, like only a cinematic-punk and angry-visionary drunk with creativity could.

Like Once Upon a Time in the West, Exiled has a mystical quality to its narrative. One can tell that there is a powerful force working behind the scenes of the narrative - a force that is guiding, protecting, and driving the main characters. But this is not to say that the characters are merely puppets, strung along by the gods of some Greek tragedy - they are not automatons. A small handful of key decisions made by the characters are left to a simple toss of a coin (fate), and along their journey they do in fact meet a few characters who are there just to help them - like they had been awaiting their arrival (coincidence). Left in the hands of a less capable director, this kind of narrative could come off as being contrived, filled with too much convenience - but such is not the case here. To blends mild spirituality and myth with his gangster opera, and details how even with the best laid plans and intentions, the lives of his characters are governed by chance. However, this chance is balanced by their own die-hard personalities and tenacious skill; his characters play the odds, and they don't always win.

Exiled feels as if it is a closing chapter of sorts for To, much like Beat Takeshi's latest film. By bringing back most of the cast from The Mission, Exiled plays out as a reunion, perhaps a farewell to an era. The four main characters in Exiled share many of the same qualities as those in The Mission, but they are all older, somewhat wiser, and definitely more confident. Anthony Wong again plays the spiritual leader, the man who the others look up to, even if he doesn't always have the answers. Lam Suet once again plays the quiet tough-guy - I don't know if a more cool and collected, and strange looking, actor exists. Rounding up the foursome is Roy Cheung as the likable everyman, and Francis Ng as the twitchy-eyed loose cannon. These actors know these roles, and yes they have all played them many times before - it is as if these actors are the very physical manifestations of their on-screen archetypes. They also do a marvelous job of creating a strong bond, the deep rooted friendship can be felt, without the need of pointless flashbacks and needless exposition - everything is shown in the present context.

Johnny To's direction of the film is also masterful - this could very well be the crowning achievement of his career. The camera moves with confidence, as it weaves in and out of the beautifully lit sets and expertly choreographed gun fights. To has always excelled at two things: creating tangible energy, and building tension, and in Exiled, he does both better than he ever has. While most directors create energy with rapid cuts and hand held shaky-cam To does so with languid angles, perfectly timed edits, and fluid motion. Exiled feels like water - it effortlessly glides from one moment to the next with artistic fervor. It is also To's most beautiful looking film. Shot on location in Macau, the setting alone changes the entire atmosphere. By taking his hardboiled killers out of the streets of Hong Kong, and putting them in a more European looking environment, To's usual visual style is able to flourish and bask in the excitement of a new location.

I don't know if Exiled represents a turning point for To as a filmmaker. It could easily be the end of one era, or it could be just another example of what he does best - Hong Kong cri-fi. If it is a closing of sorts, it is a damn fine one - a wonderful swan song for a group of filmmakers who have honed this kind of genre film making to its most pure and perfect form. Although, Exiled could also represent a new beginning - the start of something new - because even though it is full of homage and familiar archetypes, tropes and scenarios, it is executed with such visual flare and skill that it all feels fresh and vital; the film represents a huge evolutionary jump for To as a director. One thing is for certain though - Johnny To is on a role, his career has never looked better: he has owned the last five years of HK genre cinema. Beginning with PTU, and continuing through Running on Karma, Throwdown, Breaking News, Election 1 and 2, and now Exiled, Johnny To has proven himself to be the most vital and important filmmaker working in Hong Kong.

Mad Monkey Kung Fu is a simple morality tale teaching one of the most valuable lessons in the entire martial world - don't be a cocky ass, or you might get your hands busted and your kung fu prowess will waver, and then you will spend the rest of your life training a monkey and paying the local thugs to stay off your back. In the film, Lau Kar Leung plays Master Chan, a traveling Peking Opera performer, who gets into some trouble with a gang boss, Duan (Lo Lieh - in typical villain form).

One night after a performance, Chan gets completely plastered on wine, shows off his masterful kung fu skills, insults Duan, and gets framed for rape. Chan's sister takes most of the punishment (she promises herself to Duan), and Chan's hands get smashed into bloody pulps - this being one of the most violent scenes ever filmed by the director. His life then spirals downwards; he becomes a poor street performer down on his luck, and is left barely able to scrape by. He soon befriends a young and hotheaded thief, Little Monkey (Hsiao Ho), and together they embark on a journey to recovery, self-improvement and revenge.

The traditionally structured narrative never veers into the "inventive" territory, nor do any of the characters shine as much as Gordon Liu's portrayal of the monk San Te in the 36th Chamber films. However, Mad Monkey Kung Fu is a shining example of a "pure" kung fu film - and by this I mean that the narrative is mostly concerned with showcasing a certain style of kung fu: the Monkey Fist style. Lau Kar Leung is known for his attention to detail, and for his passion and skill at presenting authentic martial arts in his films. In Mad Monkey Kung Fu, Ho's and Leung's own physical abilities are put to the ultimate test: by mimicking the actual movements of monkeys, the two performers unleash an amazing amount of skillful balance, acrobatic brilliance, and powerful hand-to-hand combat techniques.

Although Hsiao Ho never became a huge movie star, as Lau Kar Leung's real life student, his martial arts skills were indeed second to none. Like Gordon Liu, Ho trained as a real martial artist with the director as his teacher, and this fact shines through with every palm strike, dodge, parry and attack. There are two standout kung fu moments in Mad Monkey; the first takes place after Little Monkey experiences a beat down from Duan and his men, and returns to Master Chan with his head hung in shame. Here, Little Monkey completes his training, and watching the two performers on screen is as meta-fictional as it gets, as they go through a training sequence in tandem that must have mimicked their off screen student-teacher relationship.

The second sequence is of course the final showdown, and like the name of the film suggests, madness doth ensue. Typical to Lau Kar Leung fashion, the final sequence in Mad Monkey does not disappoint, but once again reaches for kung fu grandness on an epic scale. By playing up the comedic fierceness of the Monkey Fist style, Master Chan and Little Monkey roll and jump around like angry simians, as they strike with the 4-thrust palm technique, and grapple their opponents with arm and leg locks. The style of kung fu in the film lends itself to a more comedic tone, and while watching Little Monkey act totally monkey-like in poise and personality, one cannot help but to grin and enjoy the acrobatic and hard-hitting antics.

Through all of the action, humor, acrobatics and display of martial arts techniques, Lau Kar Leung and Hsaio Ho create a shining example of the medium. Although the narrative and characterization may be a bit shallow, it would be nearly impossible to find a better on screen duo than these two in regards to sheer physical prowess. Jackie Chan and Sammo Hung may have been more popular, but in all reality, watching the master and student team in Mad Monkey Kung Fu is like peering through a window in time at the real, and bona fide deal. When Lau Kar Leung is involved, you know the focus will be on authentic kung fu and groundbreaking choreography, all topped off with a bit of martial chivalry. Just add a bit of Hsaio Ho to the mix, and you have the recipe for a true winner.

We're Going to Eat You is the finest kung fu-cannibal-comedy you will ever see – perhaps it is the only film in this rarest of sub-genres: the kung-can-com. The film perfectly strikes a balance between the outrageously funny, gory, scary, and action packed sequences with a skill not often seen. The way Hark and the actors expertly straddle and execute the shifting tones and styles is masterful, and offers a scrumptious treat for the senses. The film stars Norman Chu as Agent 999, a man sent on a mission to investigate some strange occurrences in a remote village deep in the heart of an Asian jungle. Upon arriving at the village, Agent 999 soon discovers an entire gang made up of Leatherface wannabes, that kidnap unsuspecting victims to be killed, carved, and eaten by the village's bizarre inhabitants.

Tsui Hark and action-choreographer Corey Yuen create some truly memorable set pieces. While the action isn't quite up to snuff, or comparable to best from time period, 1980, it makes up for the lack of martial-skill with style and frenetic pacing to spare. Norman Chu moves quite well, and keeps his cool, while dispatching cannibal after cannibal in a variety of wacky showdowns. One moment that will surely leave jaws on the floor, and fans scrambling for a pause-rewind-slow-mo-retake, is when Agent 999 takes a brief break in the middle of a chaotic bout of fisticuffs to roll a cigarette on a goon's face. He then lights it, and continues to fight while smoking his face-rolled ciggy – perhaps the only time this feat has ever been attempted on screen! And oh yeah, make sure you're prepared for some roller skating antics.

There are a ton of little moments like this peppered throughout, moments that demand strict attention – blink and you might miss something awesome. There is almost always something cool happening on screen, and Hark captures it all with the grace of a camera-equipped ninja. Whether laughs, gasps, groans, or cheers are elicited, one thing is certain: the pacing never lets up – the film is full of Hark-patented kinetic energy. The entire thing is framed like some kind of live-action comic book, and I mean this as the best of possible compliments. Each shot looks like an expertly laid-out comic book panel, as the utmost attention to detail, lighting and composition is used for every frame of film. Just as there are moments of physical action, and comedy, that will be remembered far after the film is over, so too are there shots that will continue to haunt the mind's eye after the end credits roll.

We're Going To Eat You just oozes with style. It is a grotesque, bizarre and gonzo journey into the heart and mind of a filmmaker that loves to let it rip. It has the action martial-arts fans demand, the comedy to shake things up, and the gore and scares to quench the horror fan's thirst. However, under Hark's watchful gaze, all of these elements fit together like a well designed puzzle – nothing feels forced or out of place. The quickly-written and balls-out style of the narrative is perfectly complemented by the zig-zagging work of the camera, and it all comes together due to the wonderful cast and crew. It truly is a rare film – a film that is fun, exciting, and nearly perfect, and a film that lives up to its legendary status.

Imagine the craziest, most messed up, bizarre, jaw-dropping, stupidest dream you have ever had. Now, imagine if, by some divine miracle, some crazy director filmed this dream and released it on VCD with a really bad English dub. Now stop imagining, because this film exists, and it is called Wolf Devil Woman, directed and written by, and starring, one of the first women of independent martial arts cinema, Pearl Cheung Ling. There are more WTF-moments in the first 20 minutes of this film than in just about every other movie I have seen – combined.

All of the following happens in less than 20 minutes:

It all starts with a voodoo crucification for some reason. I have no idea why. Some guy gets sacrificed and some cartoon blood explodes from his chest. Seriously, the blood is animated, by hand. Next, cut to a married couple running through a snow covered forest, being chased by red ninjas and an evil demon wearing a green troll mask – with his tongue sticking out of the mouth slit. The couple are carrying a baby, and they try everything they can to save the poor child. However, they get cornered by the ninjas, and so the husband stabs himself, and his wife, and then they start banging their heads on the side of the mountain to create an avalanche to bury the baby, leaving her life up to fate.

Well, soon after, some wolves come and dig up the baby and take her back to a magical ice cave filled with green smoky water. Oh yeah, the wolves also dig up the husband and wife and eat their hands and legs. The baby is raised like a wolf, and wears a wolf's head and fur, and walks around like a Hunchback (she later gets her back straightened out by some kung fu power). When she captures her first rabbit, she is so happy that she rips it in two, in an explosion of gore and fur. Meanwhile, back at some other place, the troll-demon and his minions are ripping people to shreds – for some untold reason.

During the next 10-15 minutes, we are treated to some truly stunning dialog. The old master of the people attacked by the troll-demon states that in order to stop the troll-demon they, “need a special...thing.” He sends his son after this “special...thing,” which happens to be some thousand year old ginseng. His son's name is Young Rudolph (strange name for an Asian lad) and his goofy side-kick's name is Rudy (name shortage?). Okay. Young Rudolph and Rudy meet up with the wolf girl and they decide to name her Snow Hibiscus – just rolls off the tongue, don't it? Snow Hibiscus...why not Wolfy-chick, or Fur-Freak, or something, ANYTHING but Snow Hibiscus?

The most amazing thing about this film though, is that during these first 40 or so minutes there is no action - and I was never once bored! It is just so relentlessly entertaining even without kung fu, a rare treat indeed from such a low-budget schlock-fest.

When the action finally kicks in, it is all goofy, and chaotic, as if it were choreographed and filmed by a spastic child. After the first major fight sequence, we finally get to see who the real villain is. It's the troll-demon's boss, The Devil! The Devil soon explains that through the strategic placement of his golden needle, he has turned his enemies into something “worse than zombies, they are corpses!” However, this corpse collecting is just an “expensive hobby,” and he has built his corpse-museum only for a “sense of ownership.” He continues by saying, “every now and then, I come to count the statues I own, huh, huh, huh.”

My God – I can't even think of any witty commentary on this one. It totally defies any kind of understanding. There are some films that just have to be seen to be believed, and then there is Wolf Devil Woman – a film that even while you are watching it, you can't believe it. The only film I can even compare this to is Troll 2 – and this is a very, very good thing. Bad movies come a peso a dozen, but what is rare are films like Troll 2 and Wolf Devil Woman. These kinds of films exist in a nexus of the space-time continuum that is only accessible through certain portals, certain portals that open only once in a very great while. While these warp-holes to the netherverse are usually closed, for the good of all mankind, sometimes a director, with a very special talent, comes back from the uncharted regions of the deepest part of the cinematic-universe and unleashes a film so heinously bad, it becomes a marvel and a gem of a motion picture. Pearl Cheung Ling is such a director, and Wolf Devil Woman is such a film.

Chen Kuan Tai's performance in the film is astounding, and his portrayal as the poor, down and out Ma, makes for an engaging experience. Ma is full of pride, almost to a fault - he will not take handouts (even when starving) and will not stoop down to pick up money, or bow to those who do not deserve it. When he first meets Mr. Tan (David Chiang), one of the local wealthy and affluent gang bosses, Ma keeps his chin up and his chest pumped. He looks at Tan with respect and admiration - not with jealousy and envy. Ma tells his close buddy that one day they will have money and power, and will attain it with pride and honor. Throughout the film, Brother Ma maintains his poise, dignity and integrity, while pushing through with determination that is almost superhuman.

Speaking of superhuman, Cheng Cheh's direction here is second to none. The skill Cheh displays behind the camera is masterful, and the way he executes the narrative is in sheer brilliance. Every moment of the film is captured and framed in the most perfect way possible - each close up, introduction, transition and action set piece serves a purpose: to drive the narrative. I sat watching this film with a look of perpetual astonishment on my face, as each sequence continued to build and strengthen the narrative - nothing seemed superfluous or out of place, and every moment down to the smallest detail was needed. And, even though the film clocks in at two-hours, an epic length for a kung fu film, it never seems long nor does it wear out its welcome.

The Boxer From Shantung continues to stay fresh and engaging throughout, all due to the great performances, wonderful direction and amazing pacing coupled with Lau Kar Leung's and Tong Gaai's masterful action choreography. Together, along with the physical performers, they crafted action sequences that are hard-hitting and chaotic, becoming more brawl-like in nature rather than the precise demonstrations of kung fu stances typical to the genre. This detail was never lost on Lau Kar Leung, and is why he is such a top-notch choreographer. Rather than have the same style of fighting and set-ups in every film, Lau Kar Leung would adapt the style of the choreography to meld with the narrative of each particular film and with each of the combatants' strengths and weaknesses. The bouts of highflying fisticuffs in Boxer feel dangerous, and are full of tension and power - the raw emotion can be felt oozing from the screen.

Emotion is what drives this film, in each and every possible facet of its execution. Each performance carries weight, and the performers perfectly capture the personas of the characters, and the gravitas of the situations. The direction is meticulously calculated, and each shot and sequence perfectly invokes the energy of the drama and the immediacy of the overall conflict. Even the action scenes are charged with emotion, and although they are bloody and somewhat brutal, the violence does not feel gratuitous, but only bolsters the narrative and the drive of the combatants. And, through Chen Kuan Tai's turn as Brother Ma, Cheh shows us that even a man with good intentions full of respect and well-deserved power can be beaten down by the very world he sought to conquer.

I am still at a loss for words to describe my frustration that Cheng Cheh's name is not mentioned in tandem with other great directors. With The Boxer From Shantung, Cheh tackled the same themes that filmmakers such as Scorsese, Copolla, and De Palma did, but did so with even more skill and emotion, and less cussing and seediness. While western genre fans continue to turn to films such as The Godfather, Goodfellas and Scarface to quench their "gangster" thirsts, Cheh's filmography continues to be praised by only a small minority of dedicated followers. I feel confidant in declaring that The Boxer From Shantung is a better film than any of those previously mentioned, and I hope that one day Cheh's work truly gets the respect it so rightfully deserves. But until that day, I will continue to give praise where praise is due.

The narrative beings when a group of ex-Shaolin students are praying in a temple that has been overtaken by the evil Manchurians. In order to prove themselves as brave Chinese, the Shaolin students challenge the Manchurians to feats of martial arts. As a result, an opposing Manchurian kills one of the Shaolin students, and a fierce battle ensues that is soon disbanded by the governing officials. Seen as a public nuisance, the students are told to chalk the death up to a gang fight, and find themselves on the run from the Manchurians and their two new kung fu bad assess. Played by villain-veterans Leung Kar Yan and Wang Lung Wei, these two kung fu artists are masters in the external and internal body-armor technique made famous by the great Pai Mei himself.

The fugitive students must to split into two pairs so that they may find surviving kung fu teachers to continue their training. The first of these pairs is made of Gordon Liu and Billy Tang, two young actors who show amazing promise in this film, especially the always-great Gordon Liu. These two students are sent off to learn techniques involving speed and more specifically, the Eagle Claw technique. The second pair consists of two classic and well-known kung fu stars, Alexander Fu Sheng and Kaun-Chun Chi. Fu Sheng goes to learn the Tiger and Stork techniques (the two forms used to defeat Pai Mei in Executions From Shaolin), and Kaun-Chun learns the close ranged Wang Chun technique.

What sets this film apart from so many of the other Shaolin-students-seek-revenge films is the execution of its narrative. The film is not bogged down with broad slapstick humor, nor does it take itself too seriously. It also gives ample time for character development, and does not play out simply as a series of loosely connected fight scenes. The narrative flows in a deliberate manner, and every action and reaction is attributed to consequence and not coincidence. Every fight scene in the film is a result of character interaction and the flow of the narrative, and the fights are not used to merely fill time or portray acts of gratuitous violence.

Lau Kar Leung choreographed this film only a year before he would make his directorial debut with Spiritual Boxer. Kar Leung had worked on many films together with Cheng Cheh, and here his skills as action director shine as a beacon of martial arts mastery. The many fight sequences during the film are all expertly framed as the combatants move with grace and skill, and what appears to be a real grasp of the techniques at hand. Because of his real life martial arts training, Lau Kar Leung was able to train the actors to move like real kung fu fighters. The rolls, punches, kicks, parries, jumps and leg/arm locks all flow with effortless grace, as the camera tracks each and every movement with only a bare minimum number of cuts and edits. There are many sequences during the film where more than a dozen moves are exchanged between the opponents before a single cut is made in the footage - a test of real skill for both the director and the actor.

Before moving into the regions of pure martial arts exploitation with the Venom Mob, Cheng Cheh was a director who crafted films as good as any ever made. I have pointed this fact out in my review for Return of the One Armed Swordsmen, and it is evident in many other films. However, in Shaolin Martial Arts it is easy to see a craftsman creating a work of pure art. There is not a single frame of film wasted here, everything about the movie is economically streamlined and nothing feels superfluous or gratuitous. The one almost-sex scene is used to demonstrate the power of inner-armor kung fu, and the fights themselves are not merely displays of crimson rivers, broken bones and arterial sprays. Here Cheh works with a sense of maturity and a grasp of the subject almost unheard of.

But most of all however, Shaolin Martial Arts is just plain fun - it is pure visceral excitement. There are moments of true tragedy as heroes die, and there are moments of exhi larating triumph as heroes overcome the odds. The training sequences are inventive, and serve a purpose, and the actors' portrayals of the characters is natural and above all, commanding of the viewer's attention. The action is amazing, and it is especially satisfying to watch a young Gordon Liu, and the ever-charming Fu Sheng, both of whom demonstrate the reasons why they were considered to be two of the greatest onscreen martial arts superstars. Shaolin Martial Arts is a true classis in every sense of the word, and once viewed will not soon be forgotten, but will be remembered for its timeless example of martial arts cinema.

*Number 36 on my Top 100!

Versus is a very special film to me, because it kicks freaking ass (that's all I really need to say about this film, the rest is just filler), and even though it is flawed, I still find myself praising its audacity, its action, its low-budget DIY-aesthetics, and the filmmakers' passion. Yes it is far too long (although the new cut remedies a lot of the pacing problems) and there is virtually no character development or narrative to speak of; I understand that the film is not an example of powerful storytelling and characterization. Put simply, Versus is an action-gore-horror-porn, and in this regard it is a masterpiece; it is pure, unapologetic trash that delivers in spades.

I first saw Versus on a really crappy VHS cassette. At the time of its initial bootleg-release in the US (a phenomenon that Kitamura is thankful for, and attributes the film's success to), I was ordering a bunch of stuff from Blackest Heart Media, an online resource for tape-traders and mondomovie fans. Of course BHM pulled the “Braindead-card,” in their description of Versus, and I, of course, fell for the comparison. Braindead, forever being the measuring stick of outlandish gore, is a film often conjured by me and other like-minded film fans. We are always on the look out for the “next Braindead,” and are usually left disappointed by empty promises and films that fail to deliver upon their on-the-box quotes and user-generated hype. And so it was with great trepidation, and reserved excitement, that I ordered Versus, and I anticipated greatly the day it would arrive in my mailbox.

Needless to say I was not disappointed, far from it. Versus grabbed my attention from the first scene (a deliciously brutal action sequence depicting some badass samurai and some very dead-again zombies), and I was captivated by Kitamura's stylish, comic-book like staging, violence, and action. While the quality of the print I was watching left a lot to be desired, and lacked English subtitles, these qualities added an illicit element to the experience. It was clear that I was watching a bootleg, a film I wasn't supposed to be seeing, and this air of unlawfulness added to the excitement of the viewing experience. It really felt as if I was one of the first people to be granted access to a film that would surely become a cult-classic. I felt privileged, as if it were duty to proselytize for the film - and so I did, I am.

What I admire most about Versus is its simplicity; the film never even pretends to be something more than it is. All too often, genre films with similar budgets fall prey to over-reaching ambition - they try to mimic their bid-budget brethren and end up falling short on all fronts. Rather than working within the means of their budgets, these kinds of films often rely on terrible special effects and cheap sets and costumes to appear more expensive. However, this ploy only betrays these films, and renders them unintentionally hilarious, at best. With Versus, there is no false pretense. Versus does not fall prey to any of these shortcomings. The filmmakers know they have a small budget, and so they craft a film to work within their means.

The entire film takes place out doors, in the middle of a forest, and in many ways it resembles the great independent martial arts films that came out of Taiwan during the 1970s and '80s. The film's story is crafted to take advantage of the paltry budget, and the budget is spent on things that are important to the film - action and gore, and there is a ton of both. Simply put, Versus is nothing but a series of outrageous action set-pieces strung together by scenes of extreme posing and metaphysical flim-flam. There is talk about some portals to hell that connect the world like wormholes, reincarnated warriors representing the eternal struggle of good and evil, and some nonsense about a girl, the “one,” who must be sacrificed to unleash the apocalypse. Or something like this - to tell you the truth I simply don't care enough about the plot of this film to let the lack of a substantial one bug me.

What I do care about are the fights and the gore, both of which the film totally delivers. Tak Sakaguchi (a bona fide street fighter) plays the unnamed prisoner, and he is a total badass. Throughout the commentary on the DVD, director Kitamura constantly berates Sakaguchi's acting chops, as they were, and it is true - he's no thespian. However, Sakaguchi acts with his fists and body, and his boxing stance and powerful bouts of fisticuffs are the stuff of an action-fan's dreams. His nearly constant, violent, and sometimes comical, confrontations with a group of yakuza (led by the incredible Kenji matsuda), and the yukuza's victims-cum-zombie hellions creates for a series of wonderful three-way gun and fist fights. Everyone, and everything, in this forest-of-hell is packing extreme heat, and bullets by the bucket loads are unloaded, heads are decapitated, hearts are ripped out, and limbs are broken. It's all choreographed with great skill, and the filmmakers make wonderful use of the talented stunt team. The action-highlight is the end fight scene between Sakaguchi and Hideo Sakaki (playing, The Man) and features some wonderful wire-work and some truly stunning photography.

Versus is the opposite of high-concept. It is low-brow, populist entertainment of the most excellent kind. It's stylish, cool, gory, and full of machismo posing and bravado. In an interview for Fangoria, Kitamura thanked his American audience for “getting it,” and making Versus such a big hit. He has said before that he does not make his films for a Japanese audience, simply because he doesn't get a lot of Japanese genre films. He feels as if many Japanese genre flicks hold back far too much, and the filmmakers are afraid to really let the shit fly. Versus lets everything fly, and it benefits from its unconventional approach to action cinema. It is a film to take at face value, while it punches its fist through the roof of your mouth, rips out your eyeballs, and eats them, all while laughing it up.

In 1997 Yu came state side with an odd choice: a children's fantasy entitled The Warriors of Virtue which features kangaroo-type creatures performing wuxia martial arts and saving the world - a underrated gem of childhood fantasy. After this was Yu's strangest period yet. Following Warriors came The Bride of Chucky, the fourth installment of the not-so-good Child's Play franchise. Here Yu injected his wacky sense of humor and his impeccable eye for beautifully shot action and sets, and crafted one of the craziest and most endearing horror-comedies ever made. He followed this with the European gangster film Formula 51 starring Samuel L. Jackson and Meat Loaf, and then went on to inject new life into two dying franchises with Freddy vs. Jason. F v. J is pure brilliance and is not just the best looking Freddy or Jason film, but it is also the best film in both of these franchises.

In 2005, Ronny Yu returned to Hong Kong, and the announcement of his next film set the cinematic world on fire. Not only would Yu be returning to the martial arts genre, but he would also be working with none other than Jet Li, who told the press that the project would be his last martial arts film. The name of this historic film is Fearless, and the film does both its star and its director justice, as it is a finely crafted motion picture on par with any that have come before it. Fearless is a martial arts biopic of Huo Yaun Jia, a famous Chinese kung fu master during the early 1900's. China during this time was in a state of constant turmoil as the Europeans were trying to indoctrinate the Chinese culture with Christianity and imperialistic views often turning into cruel and ugly racism. Yuan Jia, played by Jet Li, was seen as a national hero of sorts, although his early days as a fighter were full of angst, death, and loss.

Jet Li is no stranger to playing real life martial arts heroes. He made Wong Fei Hong into a semi-common household name (at least amongst genre loving households) with his portrayal of the hero in Tsui Hark's Once Upon a Time in China series. However, in Fearless, Li's portrayal feels more three-dimensional as he turns in a performance of a lifetime. Unlike Fei Hong, Yuan Jia did not start off as a virtuous and upright man. Yaun Jia was a man full of rage onset by his father, who was the inventor of the Wu Fist, refusing to teach him martial arts and his constant bullying as a child. Once his father dies, Yuan Jia returns to his old home town to become the number one fighter in a series of to-the-death tournament style fights that set up a chain of events leading to the eventual death of Yuan Jia's family, his exile, and his inner discovery of morality and humbleness.

Fearless is a very angry and violent film offset by moments of extreme beauty and quietness: a trait typical in Yu's work. During the first half of the film, Yu showcases many brutal and surprisingly violent fights with enough bone-breaking and blood-spurting connections to make even Tony Jaa jealous. Here, Li is playing a man consumed by rage and vengeance and his fighting style exemplifies these traits, while his pompous attitude almost makes his character unlikable. Li's acting abilities shine here, as this character is the natural conclusion for a path begun in Hero and leading through Unleashed. The second half of the film finds Yuan Jia on a sojourn from violence as he tries to escape his tumultuous past and devotes his life to peace and tranquility in a small farming village. Here, his spirit is taken by the wind, as he learns quietness and patience. Here we see another side of Jet Li's persona, the quiet and contemplative qualities of a man totally at peace with his life. Soon, Yuan Jia feels the call to return to his life as a martial artist, but this time with a newly found sensation of righteousness and maturity.

Jet Li's acting is not the only thing about Fearless that stands out; Yuen Wo Ping's action choreography is also in top form, as he crafts some very violent, yet beautifully shot action set pieces. The best of these scenarios takes place in an upscale, multi-storied Chinese restaurant between Yuan Jia and Master Qin, as they fight to the death using swords, tables, pots, stair rails and anything and everything else not nailed to the floor. During this sequence, the filmmakers attain martial arts cinema perfection. The two combatants are in top form as the blows feel heavy and full of power, while Wo Ping's creative mind works overtime in ways to add to the feeling of chaos. Stairs are broken, the floor is destroyed, walls smashed, furniture mangled, and flesh is cut during this fight for the ages. It is also here that Ronny Yu injects his own sense of cinematic style and energy as he uses extreme lighting and skewed camera angles to add a sense of the fantastic to the reality-bound fisticuffs.

Ronny Yu is not only capable of capturing kinetic and chaotic energy in his films; he is also a master at crafting quiet moments full of introspection. After the blood-soaked showdown in the restaurant, Yuan Jia's life completely falls apart and the film switches tones in drastic, but not jarring fashion, again exemplifying Yu's skill behind the camera. Once the film moves into more dramatic territory, the filmmakers can no longer rely on the martial arts to carry the film. Many martial arts films fall apart in this scenario, as the absence of action coupled with poorly executed narratives and pacing bring these films to a grinding halt. However, like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon before it, Fearless excels during these sequences to such an extent that one does not miss the action and revels in the feelings of tranquility that radiates from the screen. It is in these quiet moments of contemplation that we see a real change in Yuan Ji's character; a change that feels neither forced nor contrived, but comes across as a natural evolution.

Fearless is epic in scope and economic in running time, as I was amazed at how much Yu crammed in during the film's 100 minutes. Not only does Yu tell an epic story with brevity, but he also does so in a way that never feels convoluted or makes the viewer question whether or not something was cut - a fault that hinders films like Tsui Hark's Seven Swords. Every moment of Fearless is needed, it is as trim as can be, and every moment is crafted to near perfection. While watching Fearless, one gets the feeling that every single person involved in the making of the film gave one hundred percent of his or her skill and talent. Fearless comes highly recommended and is a film that will not soon be forgotten. As a martial arts film it excels in delivering hard-hitting and finely crafted action, seeped in angst and violence, and as a dramatic film it offers believable and three-dimensional characters with moments of heartbreaking beauty and tranquility. Fearless is a film for the ages, and I hope a film that sees Ronny Yu gain the critical admiration he so rightfully deserves. We may be saying good-bye to Jet Li as an onscreen martial artist, but what a send off it is: he could not have asked for a more perfect swan song for a career that defined a genre.

In the film, Gordon Liu once again dons the robes of the monk San Te, and Hsaio Ho plays legendary Shaolin rebel, Fong Sai Yuk - a dual force to be reckoned with for sure. The narrative begins with the hotheaded and angst-filled Fong Sai Yuk causing a ruckus in his school, and being a total punk at home - a true rabble-rouser full of disrespect and misplaced anger. Fong Sai Yuk takes his shenanigans one step too far when he insults and challenges an evil Manchurian governor, and finds himself being hunted by the Manchu-oppressors. Fong Sai Yuk's mother begs the Shaolin temple's monks to take him in as a layman, and under the mentoring eye of the monk San Te, Fong Sai Yuk begins his apprenticeship.

In the original 36th Chamber, Lau Kar Leung defined what would come to be known as the "training sequence," and a good portion of that film was devoted to the training of the young San Te. In Disciples, less of the running time is devoted to the training of Fong Sai Yuk, but it works well within the narrative. Because Fong is already such a rockin' martial artist (his mother trained him at an early age), he constantly blows through the training exercises and mocks the other trainees and monks.

However, San Te notices Fong's poor attitude and portentousness, and is present at every turn to beat some humility and level-headedness into the young rebel. Every time Fong thinks he can outsmart or outmatch San Te, he learns that he can't - the hard, painful and embarrassing way. During one such training sequence, Fong talks a ton of smack about his own tea-bench fighting skills, and San Te calls him out - oh yeah, it's on. This particular sequence features prop-assisted choreography that even Jackie Chan would be proud of (or perhaps jealous of), as San Te and Fong lock hand and foot, as they deftly spin around, on, over and under the twisting and twirling tea-benches.

Disciples is not filled to the brim with action per se, but it is never boring. There really are only a few actual fights peppered throughout, but everything is handled with such aplomb that it really is a joy to behold - the film is a testament to the expertise of its makers. Structurally, the film resembles 8 Diagram Pole Fighter, in that the entire narrative is presented as a build up for one final and epic confrontation - only here the action is even more jaw dropping, as if that is even possible. Never ones to take the easy way out, Lau Kar Leung's and Gordon Liu's work in the final showdown is something of a true marvel, and Hsaio Ho's physical skill here is the definition of the word awesome. For the last 12 or so minutes, all hell breaks lose as monks and apprentices are jumping, diving, fighting, dodging and making fools of the Manchurian officials and their warlords. San Te busts out his super-custom three-section staff and lays some serious hurt down on those sad sap Manchus. Every inch of the screen is used to optimal effect, as fists and legs and bodies fly from the foreground to the background, and tumble from rooftops to the floor. The action during this sequence feels immediate and chaotic and the tension is as palpable as the rebel's purpose.

It really is amazing to think of Lau Kar Leung's career, and the work he did under the Shaw Brothers banner. It is safe to assume that the mark he left on genre cinema is second to no other filmmaker, Eastern or Western. I will rest easy when Lau's name is mentioned casually along side other great directors like Leone, Scorsese, Kubrick, and Spielberg, but until then, his name must be praised by those of us who get it. Lau Kar Leung's films are as hard hitting and spectacular today as they were over 20 years ago, and will continue to be an inspirational beacon of light for filmmakers and fans to come. The Disciples of the 36th Chamber is a perfect film to top off a perfect era of one of the all time great filmmakers.

What's that, you want some more? Well you see, it's like this: Sammo Hung plays the King of Swords, and Lau Kar Wing, his on-screen rival, is the King of Spears. I'll let you figure out which weapons each of them specializes in. Once every year, these two masters meet for a duel to test which of their techniques is the best - needless to say, every single one of these duels ends in a draw. They are just too perfectly matched, and, of course, utterly stubborn - they will not rest until a victor is determined. Unfortunately, no matter how good their kung fu is, and it is remarkable, the King of Swords and the King of Spears must succumb to the ultimate of all rivals - old age.

To remedy the threat of old age, the two masters devise a great plan: they decide to each get and train a student to continue their martial arts tradition - and here is where the genius of the narrative kicks you upside the face. Sammo Hung and Lau Kar Wing also play the students, only their roles are reversed. So, we get to see Sammo Hung train Lau Kar Wing in the sword technique, and Lau Kar Wing train Sammo Hung in the spear technique. How freaking cool is that? Even if the entire narrative focused solely on the training of the two students and their ultimate clash, the film would have been an A-class example of the genre. However, in typical mid-school fashion, the filmmakers throw in a bevy of slapstick humor, wild shenanigans, and a ton of prime examples of what I like to call, kungfoolery.

The filmmakers from the mid-school era of Hong Kong cinema had their thumbs on the very pulse of pure entertainment. With The Odd Couple, it's as if Hung and Wing scientifically extracted the very essence of every moment that defines an awesome genre flick. There are enough action set pieces to satisfy the most jaded kung fu fan, and the martial arts on display during the many kung fu sequences is astonishing - jaw dropping even. What's more, the film also contains enough quirky moments and characters, and bizarre situations, to entertain those who may not be enamored with the physicality of the genre. The humor in The Odd Couple is broad, and yet still dang funny, and the dramatic tension is tangible. The narrative is paced to perfection, rarely does a dull moment go by, and even while the film shovels on a ton of crazy stuff at the screen, it is still a cohesive experience.

There is no question as to why the films from this era are often the launching point for many a Hong Kong film fan's adoration - and The Odd Couple is at the apex of this era. It doesn't happen very often, but when all of the elements involved in crafting a genre film come together in perfect unison, it is a very special thing to witness. All too often, we are left saying, “If only that was left out!” or, “If only they had done that!” Well, such is not the case with The Odd Couple - everything rings true, and every moment hits the mark like an expertly thrown shuriken. I am so thankful to have finally seen this film, and now I can join in with the masses who have already declared it a martial arts masterpiece.

SEVEN SWORDS, based upon a massive Chinese wuxia narrative, is the first in a planned seven movie long series, and clocking in at two and a half hours, it is a worthy opening to such an epic. With a whirlwind of brutal action, creative weaponry and dramatic tension, once the end credits began to roll, I only wanted more and could have easily sat through another two hours of the wonderful narrative. Like Peter Jackson's FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING, SEVEN SWORDS ends mid stride with our band of heroes moving on to continue their journey. However, unlike Jackson's brilliant work, SEVEN SWORDS did not fare to well with critics or at the box office. The reasons why are unapparent to me, as I have studied the negativity espoused by critics and fans alike on web sites such as the IMDB, twitch.com, Ain't It Cool News and other such outposts for internet fandom and found the negativity unwarranted.

Allow me to expand upon a theory I started working on with my GODZILLA FINAL WARS review. It seams to me that genre-fans have these little genre-shaped boxes in which they hold the ideals of what they consider to be first-rate cinema or genre entertainment. There are superhero-shaped boxes, horror-shaped boxes, thriller-shaped boxes and other such boxes for each genre or sub-genre. The more a film fits within the confines of these boxes the more the fan likes it, and conversely the more a film exists outside the confines of theses boxes the more it challenges a viewer and the greater the chance is for distaste. These boxes are built from the content of previous similar forms of entertainment, nostalgia, expectations, and stereotypes each fan brings to the table.

Tsui Hark does not direct movies to fit within these pre-configured boxes or the convictions a film within a certain genre must subscribe to. He is and always will a genre buster, something we admire around these parts (go figure). Hark creates the molds that others will follow in years to come - he did so with THE BUTTERFLY MURDERS, ZU WARRIORS, A BETTER TOMORROW, THE KILLER, ONCE UPON A TIME IN CHINA, THE BLADE and a host of other important films. With SEVEN SWORDS, Hark was up against a new era of wuxia film with new standards set by HERO and HOUSE OF FLYING DAGGERS, as well as new techniques set forth by KUNG FU HUSTLE and THE MATRIX trilogy. Rather than play by these new sets of rules, by adding more and more in terms of aesthetic style and action direction, Hark and his team of talented filmmakers stripped the wuxia films down to its most basic structure.

SEVEN SWORDS is a rather simple film, albeit one with great ambition. If seen to its completion, it will most likely be the grandest epic series of films ever produced akin to the HARRY POTTER books or Stephen King's THE DARK TOWER series in that it is striving for loftiness and scale in its storytelling. The basic story of the first installment sets the tone for the overall narrative and begins to define each of the seven main characters and their swords of choice - but it is only the tip of a very large iceberg. What we have here in part one is a self contained narrative that can be enjoyed by itself, but will only be made better when the over all story arc is completely fleshed out. With seven main characters and a host of other details to expand upon, Hark had to chose which characters would be the center of only the one film, while leaving others on the periphery. This has been a major complaint from several critics and fan sources, but one that I think carries no weight. Was FELLOWSHIP OF THE RINGS derided for not giving full descriptions of all of its background and characters? Not to my knowledge So why is SEVEN SWORDS receiving such criticism? I believe it is because this style of continuing narrative in a wuxia film does not fit in the common wuxia-shaped box of critics and fans alike.

Historically, when a director chose to take on the filming of a literary wuxia novel, he or she would select only certain chapters to develop. Take the epic work THE WATER MARGIN a.k.a. HEROS OF THE MARSH. This epic literary masterpiece is thousands of pages long, and many chapters have been used to make quite a few films. A viewer might be able to put together a kind of makeshift collection of these and watch a series of films that closely follows the story of the epic narrative, but no director has ever attempted to film the entire thing. Hark has done just this, albeit with a different epic martial arts narrative, but the point remains - once again Hark is not playing to typical wuxia movie convictions.

The story of SEVEN SWORDS is elegant in its simplicity. At its core, it shares much in common with THE SEVEN SAMURAI, RIO BRAVO, ASSAULT ON PRECINCT 13, and other "siege" films, but it is the characters and their unique weapons and histories that set it apart. A Royal Edict has been issued stating that martial arts is illegal, and anyone found performing an art would be executed on the spot. General Fire-Wind, who leads a bloodthirsty army of almost undead like beastly soldiers travels from village to village not only killing any martial artists, but also wiping out every one including the woman, children and the elderly. Hu, an againg master swordsman who catches word of Fire-Wind and his ruthless band of killers risks his life to gather six other masters each skilled with a magical sword. Once the seven swordsmen are banded together, they protect a struggling village against the onslaught of Fire-Wind and his ruthless army. This is the story in a nutshells, there really is not much more to it. Once again Hark has challenged the convictions of the genre. Most wuxia films, especially those made during the 1990's, have plots that are highly convoluted with multiple narrative strands overlapping and crisscrossing. With SEVEN SWORDS, Hark boiled down the narrative to the bare essentials.

The mainstay of the wuxia film as a genre is its flying swordsmen and their ballet like swordplay and elegant twirling, flying and leaping, details that are near and dear to Hark's filmic heart - he was, along with Ching Siu Tung, a ground breaking pioneer in the techniques that would come to define the entire genre. With SEVEN SWORDS Hark left these techniques behind. Ching Siu Tung elevated the art to an almost unreachable level with his brilliant choreography in HERO, and years before Yuen Woo Ping set new standards with his work on the MATRIX TRILOGY. Folks, it has all been done now, I think we have reached a pinnacle in action direction, a detail that Hark and action choreographer extraordinaire Lau Kar-Leung must know as well. Rather than try to mimic the action of previous films, or try to reach the standards and techniques set forth by the above-mentioned films, Hark ad Leung played by a different set of rules. The action in SEVEN SWORDS does not have the same kind of beautiful flow, or fluid movement most commonly associated with wuxia films. Rather than portraying their heroes and villains as deadly ballet dancers, they filmed the action with a sense of chaos and recklessness. The action scenes (of which there are plenty) are fast and furious often-filmed close up or at midrange and lack the precision dance like moves of other wuxia films. This is not to say they are poorly filmed or constructed - quite the contrary. The action set pieces in SEVEN SWORDS are breathtaking and actually feel dangerous. I never got the sense that the warriors were just kind of showing off their "chops" and stances like I do in so many other examples of the genre. Here, each fight looks like it hurt and was fought with the utmost ferocity needed to overcome. Once again Hark has challenged the genre-shaped box of both his own previous films, and of the more modern examples of the genre.

I have a feeling Tsui Hark was very disappointed with the way SEVEN SWORDS was received, both critically and at the box office, but not for the same reasons why other directors might be let down over a poor performance. Hark has always considered himself a champion of Chinese culture and SEVEN SWORDS was a very personal film for him. I believe Hark feels like he was personally let down by the Chinese audiences for not understanding what he accomplished with this film, or what he hopes to accomplish with the entire series. Hark may be fighting a battle he cannot win - the genre-boxes held by today's fan and critic are growing smaller and smaller and there is less room for innovation or growth. The film is even getting beaten down in the west where at the Toronto International Film Festival it has been called everything from a mess, to a complete failure.

I am here today to tell you these people are all wrong, dead wrong. SEVEN SWORDS is as moving a motion picture as I have ever seen, as epic in ambition as any project ever tackled, and as exciting as any film in the genre. It is long, but moves at a wonderful pace, is full of great characters that we will only find out more about as the series progresses, and it is quite beautiful to behold. The action is brutal and violent, more CONAN THE BARBARIAN, than HOUSE OF FLYING DAGGERS, and the excitement escalates throughout the picture culminating in a showdown for the ages. I am here today to tell you to destroy you genre-boxes and forget about any preconceived notions you may have. I have a feeling that time will be more forgiving to SEVEN SWORDS and once all is said and done, it will be hailed as the classic beginning to an epic saga that it is.

Holy Flame is a tough film to describe because so much of what makes it so damn amazing is in the truly unique visuals. The colors pop and blaze, the sets are gaudy as can be, and the pure visceral aesthetic energy is a treat for the eyes. At its core, the film is a simple kung fu tale about the ultimate weapons in all of the jiang hu, The Holy Flames, and the quest to find and utilize these weapons. The film also uses the old two-twins-separated-at-birth-one-raised-by-good-the-other-by-bad trope that seemed to be oh so common during the glory days of our beloved genre. So we've got two twins, each looking for a magic sword called the Holy Flame, and each must battle their way through a motley crew of the craziest bunch of kung fu masters this side of a Robert Tai film. I know, it sounds like a clichéd disaster just waiting to happen - but here's the thing: it's not.

Memorable Characters The two main characters, the twins, are not the most memorable characters in the film. As a matter of fact, they are actually quite boring and their personalities are rather passé. Luckily for us, the rest of the cast of madcap players is chalk full of some of the most bizarre and outlandish kung fu fighting, back flip flipping, high jump jumping, snake controlling, green suit wearing zombie conjuring characters you will ever lay your eyes on. And, just to prove my point check out these examples:

Er Mai - Man, this chick is crazy and really pissed off all the time. Just look at her scowl in the mug shot and you can see what I mean. She's got this really cool gray hair, and to tell you the truth I am bit baffled by her character. You see I am not sure if she is playing a woman who is disguised as a man (a common trope in the wuxia genre) or if she is playing a woman being a woman who just happens to look like a man. Anyhow, I bet she wishes she were a man because she is the leader of a school full of nothing but hot assassin chicks who really kick ass.

The Phantom - Alright, this guy wins the "Freaking Insane Laughter" award, and as all of you long time Shaw Brothers fans know there were a ton of crazy laughing kung fu masters - but this guy's laugh truly dominates. One laugh to rule them all and in the darkness bind them, and all that jazz! The Phantom uses his Ghostly Laughter as a weapon to create a sonic wave of sound that causes people to go crazy and also causes the wind to blow really violently. Oh yeah, and did I mention he is played by none other than Philip Kwok, Venom and fight choreographer extraordinaire? So yeah, he pretty much rocks the world.

Crazy Green Corpse Zombie WWF Robot Fighting Guy - Okay this guy is so memorable that even though he doesn't even have a proper name he still kicks ass. Green Corpse is a fighter that is under the control of the crazy master of the poison clan. He wears these skin tight green pajamas and constantly pounds his chest and screams and yells a lot as he kicks a ton of butt. He fights like some crazy robotic WWF fighter with stiff arm techniques and tons of drop kicks, throws and grabs. So basically, he is really, really cool.

Memorable Fights

The best fight in the film, of which there are an abundance of, takes place right after Wan, one of the main twins, finds his Holy Flame. He teams up with Duan, a pupil of the master named Monster Yu, and together they attack the poison clan's fortress. Man, this sequence is so cool it hurts my brain. First of all the evil cult master uses his evil Taoist magic to animate four zombie-skull fighters from some hanging tapestries. This fight is straight out of a crazy-ass comic book with the six combatants jumping, flying, dashing, swinging, slashing, punching, kicking and generally beating the crap out of one another.

Once the four zombie-skull fighters are dispatched of, the Taoist cult master unleashes the above-mentioned Green Corpse Zombie fighter guy. Our two heroes and the Green Corpse fight a battle that is so loopy, and so over cranked that it turns into pure action-comedy gold. The camera work during this fight is brilliant as the DP utilizes super quick zooms, and pans and really makes the fight seem chaotic. This is pure wuxia magic here folks, and should not be missed.

Memorable Set Pieces

There is one set piece that without a doubt is truly remarkable. It occurs after Wan enters the Moonlight cave to obtain his Holy Flame. In the cave there is a secret room (behind a, wait for it, waterfall! Who would have guessed?) with a large drum at one end sitting in front of a huge yin-yang symbol on the floor. Around the symbol there are a series of buttons, that once pressed unleash - okay are you sitting down? - giant Chinese writing characters that attack the protagonist. Yeah you heard me, Wan gets the beat down from a sentence, a real grammar assassin, and a group of ruthless letters.

The killer characters fly around the dark Tron-like neon lit room spinning and dashing at Wan as he nimbly avoids contact, jumps, ducks, and eventually even rides one of the characters like the Monkey King on his nimbus. Wan proves to be the master of the sky surfing killer characters and smacks each one down in order to display the answer to the riddle of the cave. If you thought the cool cave scenes from the Indiana Jones films were awesome, trust me, compared to this crap they are less so.

Lasting Impressions

If you haven't guessed by now, Holy Flame of the Martial World is one long series of lasting impressions. The film is just so wacky and entertaining that it's hard to believe how much crazy crap they crammed into this cinematic-wunderkind. 1983 was a pivotal year for the kung fu and wuxia genres with the focus then on new special effect techniques and extravagant wirework to lure in the shrinking fan base of kung fu cinema. Holy Flame, along with Tsui Hark's groundbreaking Zu Warriors, really ushered in a new era of kung fu cinema and changed the landscape of Chinese action films.

If any thing, Holy Flame is almost too gonzo as everything in the film is designed for ultimate sensory overload. The colors are garish and popping, the sets are overly decorated, the characters are boisterous and their actions preposterous. After watching this film once I actually had a really freaking strange dream. I dreamt that the characters in the film were all played by the cast of the British television show The Office. They all spoke in their British accents, but performed the entire film totally straight in my dream. As weird as that sounds, it's really not all that bizarre when compared to the original film.

Donny Yen is his own biggest fan, and rightly so. The dude is ripped and moves like lightening, and at 44-years old he is more fit than most men half his age; he just keeps getting faster and more powerful. If this trend continues, I can't wait to see him fight God - Slammin' at the Gates of Heaven, 2047. If there was ever a showpiece for Yen's mixed martial arts skills, Flash Point is it. As a kind-of-kind-of-not sequel/prequel to S.P.L. (or Killzone if you live in R1 territory - Donny really needs to take care of the jackass who picked this atrocious title - and by “take care of” I mean punch in the throat), Flash Point follows the same kind of set up, but goes for a more balls-out action approach. While S.P.L may have disappointed those expecting a non-stop action fest (it is a surprisingly effective drama, punctuated with action), Flash Point may slightly disappoint those looking for a deeper narrative (and be prepared to have Donny waste your face for being less than thrilled).

Sorry Donny, but the first half of the film is not so great, I mean, only when compared to the totally amazing, awesome, jaw-droppingly badass second half. You know, anything compared to a diamond is sure to appear flawed. The problem is that the film tries to be more complex and aloof than the story calls for. It tries to be a mini-Infernal Affairs, but lacks that film's wonderful characterizations (although Donny Yen could totally own Andy Lau and Tony Leung in the ring). Infernal Affairs this is not, and why it tries to be is a bit puzzling. With S.P.L., the same filmmaking team proved that they could craft a highly effective, character-driven drama, but with Flash Point they missed the mark. But what's worse is that the narrative is far too convoluted for its own good, and the absurd amounts of HK-gangland cliche rubs thin, fast.

However, once the fists and knees start flying, the “flash point” if you will, the film brings the goods with an almost non-stop slamdance of bone-crushing, flesh-pummeling action which culminates in one of the greatest final showdowns I've ever seen. Actually, each of the fight scenes in this film feel dangerous and powerful. There are no throwaway conflicts here, but each subsequent bout of flying fists, wicked kicks, back-breaking reversals, and knees to the head escalates the dramatic-drive and tension. Donny Yen actually has to fight for his life in this film because the thugs he faces are almost as dangerous as he is. The final fight between Donny and Collin Chou is something straight out of an action fan's most wonderful dream. It actually reminds me of the part in It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World when Jonathan Winters tears apart the gas station. Yen and Chou totally beat the living tar out of one another, expertly, and painfully, using the environment to get the upper hand. This is a true, three-dimensional fight, one in which the use of setting greatly enhances the final product.

Wilson Yip, the film's director, has fostered a style that depicts things in a hyper-realistic fashion. I wouldn't call his visual flair unique, or particularly interesting, but it is definitely exciting and effective. I don't know how much of the film was actually directed by Yip, and I would bet Donny took control a lot of the time. I don't say this to disparage Yip, I think he is a fine director, but instead I say this to point out that Yip and Yen are actually a team. These two filmmakers have something incredibly fortunate going on right now. Where at one time I thought that Johnny To was the only one who could keep Hong Kong genre films alive and vital, I am now ready to add the Yip-Yen team, I mean the Yen-Yip team (sorry Donny) to this embarrassingly short roster of important contemporary Hong Kong filmmakers. It's nice to be excited about an HK flick again, and I don't think it is any wonder that I said the same thing last year after viewing S.P.L. Flash Point rocks, and rocks hard. Just make sure to stick through the less than stellar first half because the pay off is more than worthy of your time and money.

Even though The Butterfly Murders is a martial arts film, or wuxia pian, it is drastically different from those made earlier by Chang Cheh, or by King Hu, one of Tsui's biggest influences. First of all, the film contains within it a kind of meta-narrative, one that portrays the common themes and tropes of the genre while also commenting on its conventions. The story is mainly shown from the POV of a reporter, or novelist, called Fong. Fong is a famous writer, one that travels the land chronicling the lives and times of the people; he is both a bard and an early journalist.

With characters aware of the martial world, and aware of the myth and legend surrounding it, Tsui's film offers a post-modern take on a genre mired in strict traditional themes. Through voice over, we hear Fong declare that, “It is the beginning of a new era of martial arts.” It is with these words that we know something different is underway, in both the film's world and in ours. Being a writer, and not a martial artist, Fong is an outsider to the jiang hu, and it is through his eyes that we are drawn into the underworld of martial heroes, criminal masterminds, strange, almost supernatural technology, and superstition. Fong's character mirrors that of Tsui Hark's own “outsider's” perspective, and is used to craft a personal meta-narrative within a somewhat typical wuxia story.

The narrative is not the only thing that separates The Butterfly Murders from the earlier films in the genre. From the first frame of the film, it is clear that we are no longer being lead by the Shaw Brothers, or the old guard, through the world of martial arts. By breaking free of the familiar sound stages and cliche settings typical to the genre, Tsui's film feels more open, more fantastic, more alien. Gone are the typical tea houses, inns, and decrepit shacks inhabited by old kung fu masters. Also missing are the streets, crowded with merchants, beggars, and street performers. The film's setting feels otherworldly, and yet it still maintains a distinct Chinese atmosphere. Like Patrick Tam's The Sword, another New Wave wuxia pian, The Butterfly Murders is set in a phantasmal limbo, its world is one breaking free of the old, on the cusp of something new.

Another new twist on the genre is how Tsui explains away the seemingly supernatural powers of the martial arts masters. Powers such as iron skin, exploding palm technique, and the power of flight, are often found in other wuxia films, and these powers are typically generated through the focus of one's inner spirit, or “chi,” or through extensive physical and mental training. In Tsui's film, these “powers” are birthed from technology, and from gadgetry. The power of iron skin is nothing more than a special kind of man-made armor; the exploding palm technique is made with gun powder and chemical explosions; the power of flight is granted through the crafty use of a mechanized grappling hook. In many ways, Tsui strips away the mystic element of the genre and infuses it with ideas more similar to science-fiction.

With new ways of explaining the combatants' powers came new ways of filming the action. While directors like Lau Kar Leung and Chang Cheh were perfecting precise, detailed fight instruction that relied more and more on the actual skills of the performers, Tsui took his action choreography in an entirely different direction. While the old school was more interested in crafting fights that featured long, unedited, uninterrupted exchanges between the combatants, Tsui's way was more comic-book in nature. Each precise move was executed and filmed on its own, in its own “panel” if you will, and then edited together to form a sequence of fluid movement. While Tsui was not the first to use such a technique, he did elevate it to an almost absurd level. By using meticulously edited montage, Tsui's action suggests the movement rather than showing it out right. The action set pieces in The Butterfly Murders feel chaotic and dangerous, a trait that would continue throughout his career.

Although The Butterfly Murders failed to gain recognition at the box office, in hindsight, it is considered an important film, and an interesting piece of a genre-puzzle. If anything, I think the film was too ambitious for its time, and I think Tsui Hark wanted to include too many changes for one film to hold. This is often a problem with Tsui's films - they are simply stuffed beyond capacity with creativity and inventive direction, often in exchange for cohesive narratives not dependent on the audience's ability to make massive leaps in logic. In this regard, the film's foundation, upon which Tsui would build his career, possesses both positive and negative aspects. By tracing the genre back, it is quite easy to see the impact Tsui's film had on its themes, its characters, and its cinematic techniques, and while not all of the influence helped to make films better, the good is just too good to dismiss.

Tall Story's plot does not focus on the misadventures of the Monkey King's search for enlightenment, but instead takes a look at the great monk Tripitaka (Nicholas Tse). During an epic and highly cheesy, but greatly entertaining, opening battle sequence, Tripitaka becomes separated from the Monkey King when the King's magical golden staff whisks him away to the safety of a nearby village. Here Tripitaka declares that he will spread his message of peace and love throughout the world. Unfortunately, his naivety leads to his downfall, as he is unprepared for the hardships of mortal life and the wicked and manipulative ways of man and the demons that haunt the world. Tripitaka begrudgingly forms a bond with an "ugly" imp girl, Meiyan (Charlene Choi), who turns out to be a proverbial ugly duckling. Together they traverse the universe, fight off demons, get into trouble, fall in love and hold court with the Jade Emperor (Gordon Liu in a small cameo) and Buddha him/herself.

This is the narrative in a nutshell, but those of you familiar with Lau's work know that he never confines his ideas to any single nutshell - more like a million nutshells. Lau, along with Stephen Chow, is a pioneer of a film genre indigenous to Hong Kong, and one that is seldom, if ever, exported. They call this style of film, mo lei tau, which means, "makes no sense," or "anything goes, and often does." These films are a sight to behold, and to the untrained viewer can be frustrating at worst, and an energetic kick to the head at best. Often times, the filmmakers leave in mistakes and bloopers, they rarely have a straightforward narrative (if they have one at all), and are basically a series of loosely connected scenarios strung together by a force only slightly more organized than chaos.

Tall Story is a perfect example of this kind of gonzo-film, and is ADD-cinema at its best and most charming. If you find yourself bored with a sequence during the film, you can bet your cloud-flying Monkey that Lau will throw something completely off-the-wall at you at any given moment. Here are just a few tidbits of the superfluous sequences to expect during the 1:45 running time: see a magical golden rod turn into a enormous flyswatter used to swat a swarm of demon insects; see the same rod turn an angelic princess-warrior into a machinegun toting golden mech; enter a world made of ink paintings where the four heavenly kings are giant animated heads in the sky; see the monk Tripitaka dress up like Spiderman; see a UFO descend from the heavens and dispatch thousands of bug-suited cyborgs and flying ships, and don't forget to check out the army of little Monkey Kings and their explosive-shooting sling shots!

Realistically, I really shouldn't li ke this film nearly as much as I did. The CGI and f/x are downright laughable, the acting is barely serviceable, and the narrative is practically non-existent. However, A Chinese Tall Story makes up for these shortcomings with oodles of charm, personality and sheer entertainment. I cannot recall a film at which I smiled more, or scratched my head more, or asked WTF? - more, or had as much pure fun while watching.

However, at the end of the film, a very curious thing happens - the film settles down and starts to examine some very heavy aspects of Buddhism, and does so in a reverent way. Once Tripitaka and Meiyan regroup with the Monkey King, and they reach the heavens, they meet the Buddha, and the characters have to make important decisions that impact their very lives and the cosmos. This switch in tone is neither jarring, nor forced, but instead feels like a natural conclusion to such a spastic journey. This sequence allows for time to let t he narrative sink in, and gives pause for some deeper meaning behind the shallow surface.

What started off as a film I loved despite my better judgment, ended up being a film that comes highly recommended, but also against my better judgment. A Chinese Tall Story is probably not a film for all tastes, as it can leave a viewer feeling frustrated, but in the right state of mind it is a film that is so vastly entertaining and so full of gonzo-sensibilities, I can't help but want others to experience it. As long as one approaches this film without any pretense or expectations, but rather goes along with the ride and does not question the journey, A Chinese Tall Story is bound to delight, entertain and bring a smile to many faces.

Spook War's strength lies not in its narrative, for we have all clearly been here and done this a gazillion times. Todashi (played in expert fashion by the very innocent Ryunosuke Kamiki, who was the voice of Boh in Miyazaki's Spirited Away) is a young modern city boy who has moved to the country with his mother after her divorce from his father. The gruffer city boys pick him in typical fantasy-film fashion because he seems wimpy and different. One night at a local rural festival, Todashi is picked to be the symbolic Kirin Rider. Legend has it that a great goblin, an evil yokai (spirit) was destroyed by the Kirin Rider, and vowed to give up its evil ways when it was imprisoned in a nearby cave, called, believe it or not, The Great Goblin Cave! Legend goes that the Kirin Rider must make a journey every year to The Great Goblin Cave to make offerings to the sword and keep the balance.

Well, of course, there is evil in the air and things are not right with the world - a chosen one, the Kirin Rider, is needed to journey to the Great Goblin Cave. Due to the discarded trash and hateful ways of modern man, the evil yokai have started to gain power and are set to ravage the world. At this time, Todashi builds up enough courage to make the journey to the cave, and soon finds himself in a very real yokai war. He finds the legendary sword, teams up with the good yokai and together they fight the evil demons and their cybernetic yokai-machine transforming monsters.

Without a doubt, Spook War is Miike's most straightforward film, and his most classically paced - it does however still possess the director's unique vision and passion. It also goes without saying that Miike's imagination, although usually dark and disturbing as it tends to linger on the hell of humanity, is put to masterful use, as the film is a thrill a minute while also keeping the mystery and atmosphere thick as can be. You've never seen a yokai film like this before, nor have I. Imagine all the crazy creatures in Spirited Away being brought to life with rubber-suits, CGI, masks, puppets, and contortionist actors and you might have and idea of what to expect. Its no wonder I have mention Miyazaki's classic twice in this review - Spook War really does seem like a live action Miyazaki film, albeit a few shades more dark.

Spook War also contains Miike's vision for gory violence and subversive humor, although it is toned down for the intended family audience - I only wish we got family films this visceral and kinetic here in the US. Miike's take on childhood fantasy includes lopped limbs, a face licking demoness, black blood spewing sucubi, disembodied heads carried around in boxes, and a whole host of gruesome sights and wonders and characters that illicit guffaws and grimaces. However, the film never feels gross or slapstick, but rather it perfectly captures the kind of imagination and dark and wondrous visions a young child is capable of not just conjuring, but reveling in. All too often, filmmakers suck every ounce of life out of family films to create something so milquetoast as to appeal to no one - children find these films uncreative, and adults find them boring. Children, as we all know, can handle and create some really messed up shit. It takes a special kind of filmmaker who can tap into this murky and fantastic world of a child's imagination and create something that is engaging for both old and young without pandering.

And what a wonderful job these filmmakers did, even with the obviously limited budget. Although there is CGI aplenty, digital sets, and animation galore, the film just kind of looks cheap - but not in a bad way. The DIY type quality adds charm and keeps the film grounded in its tradition yokai-film roots. All the money in the world can't add heart and character to a flat film, just look at the Harry Potter films for example - sure they look expensive but they struggle to grip, lack emotional depth, and just seem paper-thin. The opposite is true for Spook War, what it lacks in technical wizardry or financial polish it more than makes up for in pure charm and its sense of gonzo adventure.

Takashi Miike is a wonderful director and filmmaker, the last of a dying breed as they say. He is a craftsman who really works on his skill and never rests on his laurels - budget or no budget, he always turns out something interesting. His films are not always great, hell sometimes they are almost unbearable, but he always works and pushes his own boundaries. With Spook War, Miike has proven that a) he can work with a bigger budget and keep the film from becoming a bloated mess, and b) he can craft a film that is wonderful for all ages. The Great Spook War is a damn great film. Yes the narrative is full of cliché, but it is also full of great adventure, wonderful characters, and amazing visuals. Pure and simple, the film is just a blast.

For those of you unfamiliar with the popular narrative, allow me a chance to recap: On the cusp of losing his land and power, lord Daigo Kagemitsu makes a desperate bargain with the forty-eight major demons. He promises the demons his first-born son, to be rationed among them, and in return the demons grant Daigo the power he needs to become an unbeatable force. Daigo's son is eventually born as a featureless head and stumpy body - but somehow, it is still alive.

Daigo puts the baby-thing in a basket, and sends it afloat down a river where it is discovered by Jukai, a traveling alchemist/wizard. Jukai adopts the child as his own, and through his power he crafts the necessary body parts and internal organs the baby-thing needs to be more human. He also attaches two magical blades to the boy's elbows, blades that can be covered by removable sheath-like forearms; one of the blades is called Hyakkimaru, a name also given to the boy. Hyakkimaru then embarks on a quest to kill the forty-eight demons and regain control of his stolen flesh, and while on his journey he strikes up a lasting friendship with a female-thief named Dororo.

Rest assured, the film is not a series of forty-eight sequential duels. As cool as this might have been, it also would have been ridiculous, over-long, and lacking in dramatic tension and characterization. The film's main narrative drive begins with Hyakkimaru having already vanquished some of his foes, and ends with him still needing to battle twenty-four of the demons (hence, at least one killer sequel, already in the works). The majority of the film focuses on the hero's journey of self-discovery. He learns about his birth-father's pact with the demons, and copes with being sold out by his very own flesh and blood.

Although the film does fall prey to some cliche typical to its feudal-Japanese setting (talks of family and honor run rampant), it is executed in a way that remains engaging. It was with great discretion that the screenwriter, Masa Nakamura (Dead or Alive 2, The Bird People of China), chose to focus on the parts of the original story that would make the most powerful and interesting stand-alone movie. Even if a sequel were never made, the film would still come highly recommended because its story is well-told and self-contained.

But now let's talk about the action. Interestingly enough, this is where the film's main problems become apparent. It's not that the action is bad per se, but some of the special effects are less than convincing. There are more than a handful of standout action sequences, and most of these rely too heavily on sub-par CGI. While some of the demons look fantastic and gruesome (the huge flower-demon especially), they mostly lack weight and feel disconnected from their environments.

However, a few of the demons are straight up old-school - that's right, full on rubber-suited cheese in the best possible sense. The best of these is when Hyakkimaru fights a giant, armless, gila monster-looking demon; this entire sequence reeks of old-school Godzilla and Power Rangers. I applaud the use of the rubber-suits, they add a great deal of character and charm to the film and exemplify a signature Japanese style. And even though much of the CGI is only serviceable, the actual action choreography is highly entertaining, and contains more than a few moments worthy of a pause-rewind, especially when the demons' bodies erupt into fountains of exploding gore.

Sometimes the call for a well-made, high-concept, fantasy-tinged, action adventure, one without elves, dwarves, and hobbits, needs answering, and Dororo answers this call with confidence. It contains an effective and engaging narrative, memorable characters, and enough dazzling moments to satisfy a jaded genre fan. I went in expecting some decent action, and left feeling thoroughly fulfilled with the entire thing. I was actually taken aback by a few of the dramatic moments because they are so effectively executed. The film is awash in skillful writing, beautiful cinematography, endearing characterizations, and substantial drama. I wish there were more films like Dororo, and I am greatly anticipating the promised follow-up.

The narrative takes the traditional kung fu revenge motif, and substitutes the choreographed fighting sequences for duels of wizardry and sorcery, it is also a bit more complex than what I had been led to believe. The film opens with two sequences that focus on the eventual spiritual connection between the two main characters. The first sequence showcases a Thai boxing match between the barrel chested Bolo Yueng and his poor victim, err, I mean opponent. Yueng's victim gets pummeled in the ring, and is painfully paralyzed; he then asks his Thai-boxing brother, Kao, to revenge him. Kao begins having strange visions, and is soon drawn to a Buddhist temple in Thailand.

The sequence that runs parallel to this focuses on a Buddhist monk on the cusp of reaching enlightenment. While in a state of deep meditation, the monk is attacked by a black-magic wizard, and is brought to the brink death. In order to save himself, he puts his body in a kind of cocoon, and sits and waits for someone who can help him. We soon find that Kao and the monk have shared past lives, and their present lives are entangled, and in danger - they have been cursed! For both to live, and for Kao to revenge his brother and for the monk to reach enlightenment, they must join forces and kill a trio of evil black-magic wizards.

Boxer's Omen is constructed around four or five key sequences - legendary sequences that almost defy description. Within these incredibly messed up “action” sequences are a number of moments that are so totally bizarre, it is hard to believe that what you are seeing actually exists. Here is just a short list of the sights that'll assault your retinas: a hot naked zombie chick is born from the real corpse of an alligator; three black-magic wizards take turns eating chicken anus, throwing it up, and then eating it again; a man is choked by veins from the neck-stub of a flying decapitated head; a re-animated bat-skeleton embarks on an incredible journey; a man is attacked by an army of animated alligator skulls, and a strange sick little E.T.-like being is born from a steaming pile of, what looks like, green poop.

If, and this is a big if, if only the rest of the film was nearly as entertaining as these key sequences. I was tempted a few times to pick up the controller and hit the fast-forward button, because frankly, some of the film is pretty slow. However, I fought against any such temptation and stuck it out, and I now I actually find myself thinking fondly about the entire experience. Sure, some parts of the film don't quite work, but only when viewed as parts, and only when I was merely anticipating the next gross-out moment of outrageous horror or unintentional comedy.

Upon more careful consideration, I think the main problem I had with the film was due to my own expectations. I had heard so much about Boxer's Omen, and how utterly insane it was, that I was expecting a two-hour gore-fest of ass kicking proportions, and although there is quite a bit of ass kicking gore, and many WTF-inducing moments, the film actually has something else going for it. I have often seen this film compared to Jodorowsky's El Topo, and, while I was watching it, I didn't really understand why, but now that it is all over, I can clearly see it. Like El Topo, Boxer's Omen is a film that might never live up to its own legendary status, but this should not be held against it. As it stands, Boxer's Omen offers something so original, and so vastly different from anything else I have ever seen, that I simply must appreciate it and respect it even if I didn't love every single minute of it.

The central idea of the narrative is fascinating, and the execution of the aesthetics is remarkable. Re-Cycle is a story about a female author working on her latest novel: a supernatural thriller sharing the title of the film. After many false starts, and the goading of a pushy publicist, she soon finds herself experiencing strange ghostly occurrences. After a hellish elevator ride dumping her off just this side of hell, she leaves the world of the familiar and is lost in an otherworldly dimension. In this dimension, the Dimension of the Abandoned, is all the stuff forgotten by time and people: discarded toys, lost lovers, abandoned plot ideas, forgotten knowledge, and the forgotten dead - even aborted babies, are strewn about like so much grotesque garbage. Every level of the dimension is like a different kind of hell for the abandoned things and creatures, as they haunt the landscape and hunt for those who have forgotten them.

If the Pang Brothers excel at one thing, it is setting up a sequence with amazing visuals and striking audio. Once the heroine enters the Dimension of the Abandoned, there is something new, beautiful, frightening, and shocking to see or hear around every corner. Much of the fun of watching this film is anticipating what might be thrown at the screen next. As the heroine moves between levels, we see the forgotten walled city of Kowloon, complete with devilish inhabitants; she then visits an abandoned amusement park and playground of the damned, followed by a trip through a forest adorned with the bodies of those that committed suicide. This is, in turn, followed by a trip through a land made up of discarded, old and rusty toy trains, dolls, and wind-up mechanisms. Each of these visually arresting sequences is coupled with audio that perfectly captures the tone and atmosphere.

While these sights and sounds may appear terrifying at first, the Pang Brothers accomplish a remarkable paradigm shift towards the end of the film - a shift that somewhat changes how one views the terrors witnessed by the heroine. After a remarkable and frightening journey through the Embryonic Cave, a detail is revealed about the heroine's life, and this detail becomes a hinge upon which a heavy burden weighs down with grim ferocity. This hinge is also in control of what appears to be layer upon layer of alternate realities and parallel earths, each with its own version of the heroine's life.

If only these ambitious and imaginative ideas were coupled with a real quest and narrative, Re-Cycle could have been an amazing achievement. However, there just isn't enough of a story, or conflict, to create the necessary tension and drama needed to fully engage. Everything about this film resides on the surface - what we see is what we get, a ton of eye candy and very little substance. Even with the added hard-hitting and topical emotional punch towards the end of the film, the narrative never feels fully fleshed out. The presence of evil is also felt, and seen, throughout the film, but the evil is never given the personification that creates an immediate and real threat to the heroine; it too exists only to showcase another special effect or beautifully imagined sequence (however I must add that the final effect shot of the evil presence is absolutely astounding - you have never seen ANYTHING like it).

Lofty ideas do not, in and of themselves, create an engaging narrative. However, with enough visual allure and technical prowess, the Pang Brothers have, in fact, created a film that is infinitely watchable, and is not soon forgotten. The film’s visuals and ideas linger on the mind far after the final credits have passed, and continue to haunt for days to come. I truly wished, and hoped, that Re-Cycle would be an amazing film, but, as it stands, it is merely a film full of lofty ambition and creativity, but one marred by a missed opportunity to tell a real story.

The plot, or what t here is of one, concerns itself with a rogue prince in exile who must be returned to his kingdom. The evil Blade clan has systematically killed all rightful heirs to the throne of the great kingdom in order to usurp power away from the ruling clan. A warrior woman is sent out to find the last prince and bring him safely back to the kingdom so he can lay claim to the throne and restore peace to the land. The film is really one long trek/chase sequence making the fact that the film lacks any real excitement all the more appalling. For a fantasy martial arts film built around a long chase sequence, there was never a point during the two-hour running time when I felt a drop of tension, suspense or enthusiasm for the ride - it is rather thrill-less.

The film does contain an abundance of action, but the fighting lacks energy and excitement. This is one aspect that Tsui Hark's Seven Swords excelled in, as it offered hard hitting choreography where ev ery blow looked like it hurt it's recipient. Shadowless Sword takes the mantle up from the plethora of 1990's Hong Kong wuxia cinema, in that the action is generally made up of tons of twirling, flying, jumping, spinning and slashing. I am myself a huge fan of wirework, and I love the flying swordsman epics like Ching Siu Tung's The Swordsman series as well as A Warrior's Tragedy, Blade of Fury and Burning Paradise just to name a scant few. However, these films are all over 10 years old, and what they offered at the time was something new and different than the straight up kung fu fisticuffs of the Shaw Brothers and Golden Harvest productions. Unfortunately, what was novel in Bichunmoo, falls flat in Shadowless Sword and does not offer enough freshness to hold long time genre-supporters' interest.

It really saddens me to pan this film so much because I do find myself thinking back to certain seq uences, characters and set pieces in the film. There are a few moments of real beauty and creativity to be found, but unfortunately these sequences are few and far between. There is one sequence in particular where we first see our two heroes fight with the second and third tier villains. One of these villains is a bald monk-like guy whose head is decorated with hundreds of little kanji tattoos - pretty dang cool looking, although he does look like he stepped off the set of Seven Swords. He fights with a giant spiked club, and has quite the menacing persona. This fight sequence starts in a pagoda and ends beneath the surface of an inner-city canal, with a bunch of ninja-like baddies throwing shuriken at the heroes through the water as they try to swim for safety. This entire action set piece is filmed with skill, and looks gorgeous, but even so, it still lacks real impact - everything just feels way too staged.

I also found myself frequently r olling my eyes at the overly dramatic and often misused score for the film. The musical choices are odd, out of place, and downright overbearing to say the least. The problem with the score is that the director relied on it to convey emotion, rather than his actors or the narrative. All to often I knew exactly what was about to happen because of the music, and my heart-strings felt like an old and abused harp, as they were constantly being plucked and molested by the overbearing, melodramatic and down right bombastic score that never shut up.

At the end of the day though, I can't completely dismiss Shadowless Sword. There is some quality here, it's just too bad one has to wade through so much muck and cliché to find it. It is a film that tries very hard to be the next Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, Hero, Fearless or House of Flying Daggers. One can tell that the filmmakers wanted this film to have that kind of cultural and genre crossover appeal. Unfortunately, the narrative and acting are not capable of elevating the film above its genre trappings, and the genre conventions in which it wallows are not executed well enough or creative enough to appeal to the long time genre fans. By trying to make a film with broad appeal, the filmmakers wound up making a film with very little to grasp. It lacks depth and intensity, but it is nicely shot and does posses a few sequences worth the time. Ultimately, if you stumble upon the film give it a go, just don't seek this one out or spend the big bucks to import it.

Well, now imagine my shock, and dismay, when I loaded up the DVD and saw that the film was, in fact, entitled The Clutch of Power. Dammit – I wanted a crutch. A clutch of power really isn't all that rare in martial arts films. Something like 90% of the genre is made up entirely of films about people who want power, people who will clutch at anything, and everything, that will grant them power. Usually, the power clutched after is a top secret document revealing the ultimate kung fu stance, or military strategy. Also, the people doing the clutching are usually the bad guys, and the good guys must prevent the bad guy from accomplishing his or her power-clutch. Oh, if only this film had been called The Crutch of Power.

The scenario I outlined above is exactly what this film is about – down to the minute degree. There is, in fact, a document that contains the ultimate military strategy, and the evil bad guy wants to clutch it, he wants to 'clutch the power,' hence the name of the film. The bad guy goes around killing people with his retractable sword, and eventually finds the document. However, the document is, of course, being guarded by two good guys who prevent the bad guy from successfully completing his power-clutch. I know, I know, the film sounds unique, and quite remarkable, as if we have never heard of anything quite like it before (if you can't tell, I was typing with sarcasm).

Although the narrative is pretty weak, the film itself is mildly entertaining...mildly. The action is plentiful, and competently framed, while the bad English dub is often times humorous and aloof. The film also showcases three of the stupidest weapons in martial arts cinema history, no joke. The first weapon is a chess board. Yup, that's right, one of the assassins sent to kill the two good guys fights with a chess board he spins around in his hand. I don't know about you, but when I was in high school, and in the chess club, the one thing I never worried about was getting killed by one of the chess boards. But then again, I was probably too preoccupied about my level 20 dark elf getting his but kicked by a dragon to worry about such nonsense

However, the chess board master soon loses his chess board (he throws it away, at a tree, like a shuriken) and replaces it with an even lamer set of weapons – two hand fulls of feathers. Clutched in his hands, between each finger, is a white feather, and he strikes with these feathers at the two good guys. It doesn't take long before this loser is killed. Another assassin fights our heroes with an umbrella, without the cloth on it. If you have ever wondered what good an umbrella might be with the cloth removed, just rent this film and you will see. The spiny, skinny, metal arms of the weapon are used to twirl around and smack the weapon-master's opponent. Unfortunately, there is not a lot of smacking going on, and the assassin is quickly dispatched.

Sometimes it is better to carefully read the title of a film before you rent it. This saves the trouble, and heartache, of imagining how cool a film is going to be, and then discovering it's probably not very cool at all. Had I known the film was not called The Crutch of Power, I would have rented it anyway, but I would not have spent the entire car ride home imagining the implications of such a crutch. That is to say, I would have approached the film with more realistic expectations. However, even with these realistic expectations, the film would still be nothing more than a quick diversion, and a less than mediocre example of the kung fu genre.

Ching Siu Tung is a master fight choreographer - my personal favorite. He kicked off his amazing directorial career with Duel to the Death, continued through the 1990's with The Chinese Ghost Story trilogy and the Swordsman films (he co-directed these), and took his career to the ultimate pinnacle when he choreographed the amazing action sequences in Zhang Yimou's Hero - what I consider to be the pinnacle of action choreography. While working closely with Tsui Hark and John Woo, Siu Tung honed his skills and perfected the art of wire fu, turning martial arts and action films into high flying, jumping, diving, spinning, falling, slashing, and visually stunning displays of ballet-like violence where swordsmen, gunmen, demon and human alike could take to the air at the drop of a bullet casing.

Monkey Kung Fu is one of Siu Tung's earliest films both as action director and in a rare on screen starring role. The pleasure of seeing the man himself perform on camera is a real treasure for any fan of old school martial arts action. Combining the comedic impact of Jackie Chan, the prop-assisted antics of Yuen Wo Ping, and the precision timing of Lau Kar Leung, Siu Tung proved in Monkey Kung Fu that he was a force to be reckoned with. Although the narrative is practically non-existent, as it serves only to string together the frenetic action sequences, the film is highly entertaining.

Like so many other kung fu films before it, Monkey Kung Fu's narrative chronicles the search for an all powerful kung fu manuscript. Legend goes that the Gibbon Fist, or Monkey Fist style, is based off of the movements performed by monkeys witnessed by an old kung fu master while imprisoned. While locked away in his cell, the master observed through his barred-window the monkeys living in a tree in near proximity. The master mimicked the moves of the monkeys and developed the monkey style of kung fu. While in prison with the Gibbon Fist master, Wei Chun is given half of a map-like talisman detailing where to find the lost Gibbon Fist manuscript.

Wei Chun discovers that another prisoner, played by Hou Chao-Sheng, possesses the second half of the talisman and so together they escape capture, set out to find the Gibbon Fist manuscript, and with each other's help they each learn a set of moves from the manual during a brief but highly entertaining training sequence. Perhaps the most famous of all the Gibbon Fist styles is the Drunken Monkey style. I mean come on, who doesn't like to see a kung fu master getting drunk off his ass while at the same time kicking ass? Well, in Monkey Kung Fu there are plenty of examples of this awesome style as Hou Chao-Sheng performs some of the coolest drunken moves this side of Jackie Chan in Drunken Master.

My only complaint with Monkey Kung Fu may seem like a sacrilegious one to kung fu films, but here it is: there is too much action. Yeah, that's right, you heard me - there are too many fight scenes. By the end of the last fight I was actually ready for it to be over, as my brain had experienced a massive overload of awesome kung fu choreography. There were times when I thought the film seemed more like a calling card for Siu Tung's skill as an action director/performer than an actual film with a concrete narrative. But, as it stands, Monkey Kung Fu still comes highly recommended even if it is only viewed in short bursts to quench your thirst for amazing action.

The really great thing about all of these classic Shaw Brothers films being released and remastered by Celestial is the amount of history contained within. Film fans like you and me love to learn more about our favorite filmmakers and see more of their work. For many years, these older kung fu classics were not available and we fans had only the newer films to devour and love. As much as I love Ching Siu Tung's modern masterpieces, I often wondered just how he became such a great choreographer and I often wondered if he himself possessed any real skill as a performer. After watching Monkey Kung Fu, I now understand why he is such a skilled action director - like Yuen Wo Ping, and the entire Yuen clan, Ching Siu Tung possesses real talent in front of the camera, talent that translates into amazingly creative choreography. He moves with the grace and fluidity of a real master and thus he lends a sense of authenticity to his work behind the camera.

Monkey Kung Fu is a dang fun film, but more importantly while watching it we get to witness the start of a genre-defining career. Although he may not be as well known as Yuen Wo Ping, Ching Siu Tung has had just as much of an impact on genre cinema. Without him we would not have The Killer, The Swordsman II, A Chinese Ghost Story or Hero. Every single one of these films added to the action-film canon and helped to shape the genre films that came after. Monkey Kung Fu is not only a film that is highly entertaining, but it also sheds light on a young performer set to take the action genre by storm and continuously raise the bar for years to come.

In fact, while watching this film, I found myself thinking of "Gladiator". This is probably because, like the contemporary alternate history film, "Assassin" focuses on a single, tragic hero amidst sweeping political events. What makes this hero outstanding are both his martial skills, and a strong sense of integrity that never wavers. Around him, people are suffering the rule of a stagnant empire, and there is a general sense of urgency for change.

Here, however, the similarities between the two films must end. In "Gladiator", the hero embraces his role with reluctance, whereas the hero of "The Assassin" - played by Jimmy Wang Yu of "One-armed Swordsman" - is all but desperate for a worthy cause to claim his sword, and if necessary, his life. "Why do you study the sword?" his lover asks him, as they lie together in a moonlit glade. "Because I want to be ready," he says, and the rest of the answer is clear: "for destiny."

It is interesting to note that, within this film, there are two kinds of destiny at work. On the one hand, the film is called "The Assassin"; the central character is a skilled swordsman; and something political is brewing. Obviously, these three facts put together equal "final showdown in a bloodbath."

There is, however, yet another force at work here, and that is history. "The Assassin" is based upon an historical figure, Nieh Chen, who lived during the time of the Six Kingdoms, nearly 2300 years ago. At this time, Chen in fact committed the death-dealing deed the film works up to, and is well-remembered for it. According to the production notes in the extras of the Celestial DVD edition (more later about this sublime disc!), Chang Cheh found Chen's story ideal for an heroic epic in the tradition of the genre.

Nieh Chen is thus a respected historical figure - at least, amongst Hong Kong film-makers he was! - and this shows in the narrative pacing of "The Assassin". It is the main character that drives the film, and not the plot, nor the fight scenes, which in fact, are few and far between. Though the film's outcome is inevitable, it takes its time describing Chen's character, from his origins as a skilled swordsman, to the model respect he has for his family, putting their needs first in all situations.

This last point is especially noteworthy, because it draws out this wait for the inevitable. For though Chen is driven to apply himself in a heroic endeavor, he is unwilling to commit any action that his mother does not approve of. This is firmly established in a few key scenes, and is a remarkable change from the usual kill-the-loved-ones/path-of-revenge motif. Chen's family is not just a secondary set of characters, but an integral part of who he his, and the decisions he makes.

So important is Chen's commitment to his family, that he is willing to sacrifice his greatest dreams for them. By day, he works as a butcher, making the money that they all subsist on. By night, he feels his potential seeping away, untapped, unasked for. Even when destiny does come calling, he can only refuse to answer, so long as his mother is still alive, and his sister unmarried. "Wait," he tells the man who comes seeking his sword, and his blood. The strain on his face is visible. "Wait, and I will find you when it is time."

Time does indeed pass, and when Chen shows up at the man's door years later, he is bristling with intent. He carries the sword that his teacher gave him, his skills untouched by time or sloth. His eyes burn, as if they will rip his mission directly from the skull of the man who has called upon him. He has fulfilled his commitment to his family, and waits now only for someone to point him in the right direction: for the life that lies at the other end, there can be no hope.

Before fulfilling this mission, however, the hero must go through a few more trials, including various forms of temptation that threaten to veer him from his chosen path. He is given rich food and clothes, wine and women; they do not hold him. He grasps at a single chance to return to his first love, and is torn between long-term happiness, and glorious destiny. But there really is no choice to consider; otherwise he would avoiding a truth that he has known his entire life.

Finally, "The Assassin" brings the hero to his journey's end, and the final battle that must be this end. Chen wields his sword against literally hundreds of men, fighting his way to the one man he must kill. At every pause in the bloody battle, he strikes the same pose: back straight, arms outstretched, sword extending to the side. There is no skulking, no defensive posturing. He is alive, vital, flush with the immediacy of the moment, and he opens his arms to all comers. Here I am: see if you can stop me.

It is a grand ending, and though not as bloody or brutal as the final scene in "Boxer from Shantung", admirers of Chang Cheh's work will immediately see the parallels. Likewise, the very last scene closes the film on a tragic note, the details of which I will refrain from divulging. Better to see it without foreknowledge.

This is a passionate film, made by people who respected the subject matter, and it shows. "The Assassin" is not a kung fu movie that you watch for funny hijinks or frantic fights that occur for whatever reason. It is a prime example of the historical, romantic, heroic epic, and further proof of Chang Cheh's genius as a director. This is not a kung fu film that you watch for the fights, but for all that it has to offer in the way of character. And in this aspect, "The Assassin" excels.

Only two more points beg mentioning, and the foremost is due credit for Celestial's masterful cut of this film. The picture is vibrant, and presented in wide screen. It is also in the original Chinese, with worthy English subtitles, which can be shocking after watching so many dubbed editions of the genre. The sound is decent, though music is noticeably louder than dialogue. But the best aspect of this DVD are the extras. These include a featurette about Chang Cheh, with English subtitles, and a goody-bag of production notes, also translated for English viewers. Now, not only can you enjoy a Shaw Brothers classic in all of its beauty, you can learn about it, and the genre! For passionate fans, this is a key to a small piece of heaven.

The other point is minor in comparison, but worth bringing up for the sake of humor. In the opening scene of the film, and in many later scenes, astute viewers may notice that they recognize the theme music. This is because the music is a direct copy of the theme from "You Only Live Twice", the James Bond film that was released the same year "The Assassin" was made! And when I say direct copy, I mean it's the exact same track! It can be distracting too, because at times, I recalled the words sung by Nancy Sinatra. Strangely enough, they are very appropriate:

You only live twice,
or so it seems . . .
one life for yourself,
and one for your dreams.

A strange meeting of Western and Eastern media, to be sure. But then, that's how it is for all Western adherents of this incredible genre.

The Lady Hermit is all about action, atmosphere and, for lack of a better term girl-power. Yeah you better believe it, the two leading ladies in this film kick ass and look good doing it - okay, I admit, that was cheesy. However, I cannot overemphasize how great it is to see two such strong female fighters working together in a film to overcome the evil powers of an evil kung fu master. It is also a breath of fresh air to witness a love triangle between the three heroes that does not pander to juvenile male fantasies or ask the charismatic leading women to compromise their strength and integrity. The narrative is very mature in that it develops the characters and their individual arcs in a way that makes sense, and makes the characters stronger and more likable for the audience.

Memorable Characters
The three heroes of the film all offer something to the narrative and are all quite memorable.

The Lady Hermit - Although you may not recognize Cheng Pei-Pei from her earlier roles such as this, you may remember her as Jade Fox from Ang Lee's crossover hit Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. She starred as a swordswoman in a dozen or so films beginning with the genre defining classic Come Drink With Me directed by King Hu - many fans credit this film as being the first modern martial arts film. The Lady Hermit character is both understated and intense, as she wishes to keep her real identity a secret but is soon overcome with the burning desire to see Black Demon dead. She may also possess slight supernatural abilities, as she is able to appear seemingly out of nowhere, scale walls, and move at great speeds. Likening this character to Clint Eastwood's Man With No Name, or Charles Bronson's Harmonica would not be a stretch. As a matter of fact the entire film has the same kind of inconspicuous supernatural atmosphere as seen in Leone's great westerns.

Chang Chun - Lo Lieh is a martial arts film superstar. At one point at the height of the Shaw Brothers reign, Lieh could be seen in dozens of films per year. He directed classics such as Fist of the White Lotus, and starred in genre-defining gems like Five Fingers of Death. The character of Chang Chun is not a typical Lieh role however. In the film he plays a love interest of the two leading ladies but this is not to say we don't get to see him kick some butt - because we do. Although Chang may not be a true martial arts master, he possesses a sense of honor and chivalry and plays a very important role in the last battle.

Cui Ping - Cui Ping, in a word, rocks and unfortunately I know next to nothing about the starlet behind the rockingness: Si Si. What I do know is this: I will never forget her performance from the film, nor her character. Like Gordon Liu in many of his roles, Cui Ping is determined to overcome evil, and is consumed by an earnest spirit. Also like Liu's many characters, Cui Ping always looks like she is having the time of her life, even when fighting dozens of henchmen, hanging from a dangling suspension bridge, or staving off a band of ruthless thugs - nothing dampens her attitude, as she is all smiles mixed with equal amounts of kung fu skill.

Memorable Fights
The first major brawl in the film is utterly fantastic, as is each consecutive bout of kung fu fisticuffs. This first major set piece transpires on an abandoned street in a small Chinese village as Cui Ping is trying to track down a group of killers who have disguised themselves as ghouls. Soon she is overrun by the baddies, and who should show up in the nick of time? No other than the enigmatic Lady Hermit, clad in a white cloak, and wearing a wide brimmed hat, the Lady Hermit looks like some kind of ghostly beauty poised to kill with her sharpened sword. Together, the Lady Hermit and Cui Ping take on the gang of thugs and one by one, one spray of blood after another, they dispatch of their adversaries in a ballet like fashion of beautiful violence.

Memorable Set Pieces
During the last big brawl, which just so happens to run almost 25 minutes, Cui Ping climbs a tall pagoda to reach Black Demon's flag in order to slice it down in a symbolic demonstration of humiliation. She does not however use the stairs on the inside of the pagoda. No, she is too dang cool to use stairs. She scales the pagoda from the outside like a female kung fu Spiderman only stopping at each level long enough to kill a handful of lackeys. She climbs, spins, flips, pulls, jumps, and slices her way to the top of the dark tower in a display of prowess seldom seen. The entire sequence is something of an action fan's dream and is executed flawlessly.

Lasting Impressions
The Lady Hermit is a classic film in every sense of the word. Like Chang Cheh's Return of the One-Armed Swordsman, I have to wonder why this film is not more well known or mentioned along side the likes of The Seven Samurai, A Fistful of Dollars, The Wild Bunch and other high profile genre films. Everything about the film from the music to the staging, from the script to the acting, from the cinematography to the action choreography, represents a shining example of near-perfection. The narrative is engaging, the characters are endearing and the entire film just oozes with classic charm. When people say "they just don't make them like they used to," they are talking about films such as The Lady Hermit: a film that represents the best of the genre, embraces the tropes of the genre, and simultaneously transcends the trappings of its genre by shedding any false pretense and being confident in what it is - a perfectly crafted martial arts classic

Michael Bay: Michael Bay Enterprises, this is Michael Bay director of Armageddon speaking, how can I help you?

Daniel Lee: Hello Mr. Bay, this is Daniel Lee. I directed Star Runner and Black Mask with Jet Li.

MB: Ah yes, Danny, can I call you Danny? I like your work, you have, uhm, potential!

DL: Thanks Mike! Hey listen, I am working on a new film called Dragon Squad. It's starring Samo Hung in a comeback role and a bunch of young SUPER hip Hongkie actors who are just screaming coolness. It also stars Michael Biehn who I think you know?

MB: Ah yes, he was in my action film The Rock, how is the old bastard?

DL: Great, he's doing great. Well hey; the reason I called is that I wanted to get some pointers from the master of bombastic-and-visually-appealing-but-ultimately-meaningless-cinema.

MB: Oh man, I'm sorry but Tony Scott stepped out to grab some lunch.

DL: Oh that's cool I already spoke to him. He loaned me a truck full of special filters, lenses and video effects. You know, just in case I wanted to change filters, lenses and effects for every single frame of certain action and or dramatic sequences. It was really nice of him. He even showed me how to use everything and told me the golden rule: if you have it, use it! So anyhow, I would actually like to talk to you now.

MB: Well, you know my motto: Sure, why not? So go for it, ask away and I will try to steer you in the right direction.

DL: First of all, I need help with fleshing out the characters. I don't want to waste precious film time on "background." How can I go about doing this as quickly as possible?

MB: Just have a bunch of split second still-photo flashbacks of each major character. Make sure these photos show what special tactical or military unit each of the characters was from, and bingo - back-story! For example, if you need a hot chick who is a sniper, just show a picture of her looking all bad-ass in some fatigues and a beret holding a huge sniper rifle. Maybe play some dramatic drummy music over the photo-back-story-montage and there ya go. Next question.

DL: Okay, so to add "emotional depth" is it cool to have a really super cheesy "sad" death scene after every single large scale gun fight in the film?

MB: Sure, why not? Just make sure the sad parts are filmed in slow motion with stuff falling from the sky, preferably feathers or sparks, and also, now this is important, pick the cheesiest song you can find - you know, some power ballad by Aerosmith or something, now that's hot!

DL: Ooh, great idea! I have this one song in mind, I think it's in D-minor, and it has some chick singing about building a mansion higher than the trees and it crumbles because her lover has died. I'll use that!

MB: PERFECT-O! Next question.

DL: Okay, this pertains to something you said earlier. I need lots of debris falling but I am not sure how to go about setting up the set so the debris seems logical.

MG: Logical? Son, have you seen my films? The more shit that's falling from the sky during any part of the film, the better. Okay, so, where do you want this debris?

DL: Well, there is one major gunfight in an alley.

MB: Okay, so put some propane tanks in front of some bags full of shredded paper. Every alley I know of has tons of garbage bags full of shredded paper strewn about, so no big deal. Now, here is the important part: the first gun shot fired during the scene MUST hit the propane tank and cause the bags to explode so you will have paper scraps falling like snow for like 15 minutes! Also, make sure there are some large industrial strength fans in the alley that happen to turn on - maybe from the explosion or something - so they can generate air currents and make the falling paper scraps look like snow.

DL: Should I film this scene in really slow motion?

MB: Sure, why not? Just make sure it looks expensive.

DL: Got it. Okay, next question Mike. At the end of the film I want there to be a shoot out between two snipers that takes place in a graveyard. Only problem is, the end I have written takes place in a shopping mall and an abandoned factory - there are no graveyards around these two areas.

MB: Who cares? Just show the snipers running from the factory, edit in a bunch of jump cuts, pans, wipes, and slow motion, and then have the two snipers appear in a graveyard. It's cool - and trust me, the audience will be so wowed by your editing prowess they won't even question the graveyard. Plus it'll look awesome, and just think of the deep symbology of it all.

DL: Excellent, just what I wanted to hear! Okay, so for my final scene, I need a way for the bad guy to lead the good guy into a cool room for a final showdown. How can I do this?

MB: Blood.

DL: Well, it would have to be a lot of blood; the hallways we are using are pretty long.

MB: Do you know how much blood the human body can lose before they die?

DL: No.

MB: Neither do I, and neither does the audience. Trust me, it's a lot. So, have the bad guy get shot, and then have him run and stumble all the way to the coolest room of the location leaving a trail of blood so the good guy can follow. So what is the coolest room you can think of?

DL: Well...

MB: No prob Danny, listen. Have the last fight scene take place in the laundry room with pillows and fluorescent lights. This way, you can have the two guys shoot at each other hitting a bunch of pillows and then you can have feathers falling from the sky. Secondly, as the two guys are shooting at each other, make sure to show the fluorescent bulbs exploding for no reason, and have the light fixtures fall causing a shower of sparks to blur out in the back ground. The sparks coupled with the feathers, along with bullet casings and blood should make for a really kick ass sequence.

DL: Wow, that sounds awesome! I was also thinking of adding a greenish Matrix-like colored filter for this sequence.

MB: Sure, why not?

DL: Okay, so I also need more emotion. So during the last fight sequences, I want the audience to feel bad for the bad guys when they die - you know, because they're human too.

MB: Easy - just make sure to use slow motion and that really cheesy song you have about the mansion (remember, you already used that song when a good guy dies so the audience will know the song is used to trigger emotion), and also make sure to show one of the bad guy's girlfriend look really sad when he dies even though she knows he is an evil murderous bastard.

DL: Oh man, this is gonna be good. Any last minute pointers?

MB: Look, Danny, just have fun man! No matter what, just make sure the film entertains, the rest be damned. All to often nowadays action movie directors are afraid too just let it all go and have a rip-roaring good time. As long as the film looks slick, is cool as hell, feels expensive and bombastic, and IS FUN, nothing else matters. Sometimes it's cool for the audience to just turn of their brains, sit back and enjoy a stupid action film.

DL: You got that right! All right Mike, thanks for the pointers, I better get started. Oh hey, do you know Steven Segal's phone number? I need him to be an executive producer.

MB: Sure, it's...