But 3-4 months ago, I realized this obsession would probably serve only to harm my viewing pleasure when I finally say the movie. No movie could possibly live up to the sort of expectations I was creating. I realized that I wanted, that I needed to watch "Hero" with as clean a slate as possible. That was the only way I could judge the movie on its own merits, the only way I could possibly enjoy it. At that point, I made a conscious effort to ignore reviews and anything else that might ruin the movie for me.

However, now that I've seen "Hero", I realize my efforts were in vain. A movie this majestic could have easily withstood any amount of expectation on my part, and then some.

2000 years ago, China consisted of 7 kingdoms vying for dominance. The struggle lasted for many years, with the Qin kingdom eventually emerging as the most powerful. Its king, Yin-Zeng (Chen Diaoming) , plans to use his massive armies to conquer the other kingdoms and form one vast empire. Standing in his way are 3 powerful assassins from Zhao, a rival kingdom: Sky (Yen) , Flying Snow (Cheung) , and Broken Sword (Leung) .

Noone has been able to stop them, despite the king's generous bounties. Noone, that is, until a simple country official called Nameless (Li) arrives at the palace with their weapons. The king, impressed by the deed, invites Nameless to drink with him and tell his story. In a series of flashbacks, Nameless explains how he was able to divide and pit the warriors against eachother. Flying Snow and Broken Sword were lovers until Flying Snow had an affair with Sky. After defeating Sky, Nameless uses this to drive a wedge between the former lovers as their own passions and betrayals ultimately defeat them.

After Nameless has finished his story, the king pauses for a moment and suddenly begins telling a different story concerning the three assassins and their deaths. The events unfold again and again a la "Rashomon", each version revealing more about the 3 warriors and their loves, betrayals, and heroism. With each retelling, the truth becomes clearer, as do the motivations of the enigmatic Nameless.

I suppose some might accuse "Hero" of trying to cash in on the fame of "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" (despite the fact that Yimou had started working on this movie years before "Crouching...") . To be honest, I was afraid of that as well, afraid that "Hero" might not be able to escape from under the other movie's shadow. But "Hero" is a totally different kind of movie. I would even go so far as to say that "Hero" shatters any "Crouching..." comparisons simply by being a much more satisfying film on nearly every level. As fine a film as "Crouching..." was, it never fully resonated with me. "Hero", on the other hand, left me reeling at times.

One thing that you'll immediately notice is Yimou's amazing use of color. Each flashback is cast in different colors to capture their moods (and also serve as a handy narrative tool) . Nameless' scenes are predominately dark and grey, so as to capture his ambiguity. His flashbacks are bathed in bloody reds and oranges to convey the savagery of betrayal and loss. Other flashbacks are filled with blue, green, and white, each scene as vivid and lovely as the last.

Such painterly composition creates many stunning and memorable shots, especially when rendered by Christopher Doyle's cinematography. The calligraphy school where Broken Sword and Flying Snow live in exile is bathed in crimson silk, as is everyone who walks it halls. A palace hall is filled with giant green silk curtains that ripple like waterfalls as the king and Broken Sword fight between them. Flying Snow's forest duel with Broken Sword's servant (Zhang Ziyi) is transformed into a whirlwind of gold and orange as the leaves whip across the screen at the behest of Flying Snow's blade.

However, Yimou isn't so bogged down in these carefully composed scenes that he can't pull off the film's bigger ones. The scenes involving the Qin army are staggering, as thousands of troops clad in black march in step, scramble up palace steps like an armada of beetles, or launch a volley of black arrows so thick it fills the sky. The only thing in recent memory that outdoes these scenes would be the Massive-generated armies of "The Two Towers". I can't think of any other recent movie that comes close.

You'll notice that I have yet to rave about "Hero"'s fight scenes, despite the fact that the film stars two of cinema's finest martial artists, Jet Li ("Kiss Of The Dragon", "Fist Of Legend") and Donnie Yen ("Blade II", "Iron Monkey") . I find it hard to separate out the film's martial arts content for discussion simply because Yimou has integrated it so well into the movie. However, I assure you it's as stunning as you could imagine. Li and Yen's battle, a blur of sword and spear, is easily on par with their duel in "Once Upon A Time China, Part 2", and that's just the first of 5 or 6 memorable sequences.

The action choreography, courtesy of Ching Siu-Tung ("Shaolin Soccer", "Duel To The Death") , is graceful beyond compare, and Yimou's camera captures it all with the same detail he shows everywhere else. The action is accented by tasteful wirework and hints of CGI which allow Broken Sword and Nameless to glide across the surface of a serene lake and Flying Snow to ward off hundreds of arrows with the fiery silk of her dress.

As visually stunning and downright cool as the fight scenes can be, it's their emotional and spiritual aspects that stuck with me long after the movie was over. At several points, Yimou goes inside the comabatants' heads, revealing the fights to be contests between minds as much as between swords. The movie cuts between the combatants' swift, deadly movements and their calm outer expressions as they test and probe eachother's skill. Combined with Yimou's use of slow motion and haunting music, these scenes take on a meditative air.

For all of "Hero"'s vivid colors and lush style, the motivations of its characters remain grey and murky up until the very end. This is best seen in the character of the king. At first, it's assumed he's a horrible tyrant who has become paranoid of his assassins. But as the movie nears its completion, that assumption is challenged as the king opens up to Nameless and learns more about his enemies. Diaoming delivers a solid performance as the king who would be emperor, one that continues to draw me in with each viewing.

Jet Li might come off as somewhat wooden but then again, he's playing a stoic, nameless warrior who has spent 10 years of his life perfecting his craft. Donnie Yen doesn't have too much screentime, but his martial arts skills ensure his appearance is charismatic. Zhang Ziyi turns in another fine performance, this time as the fiery young warrior devoted to Broken Sword. However, most of the movie's drama draws from Flying Snow and Broken Sword's tempestuous relationship.

I swear Maggie Cheung gets more and more gorgeous with each passing film. I initially saw her as Jackie Chan's mousy girlfriend in the "Police Story" movies. However, films such as "Ashes Of Time" and "In The Mood For Love" revealed a luminous onscreen presence. In "Hero", she might be at her most radiant, a proud warrior torn between love and her sense of revenge. Her feelings are buried beneath an icy exterior, but when they finally break through, it's heartrending.

It's strange seeing Tony Leung as a pained and tired swordsman here, but only because I recently watched him ham it up in "Chinese Odyssey 2002". However, Leung once again proves why he's one of my favorite actors working today. His is the movie's most textured and tragic character and he pulls it off without a hitch. I love watching his face, often stoic and proud. But with a simple glance, he can convey a tumult of emotions that lies just below the surface.

So is there anything negative to be said about "Hero"? Some might find its inexorable pace a bit too solemn, especially when augmented by Tan Dun's haunting score (which is a bit too close for comfort to that of "Crouching...") . Others might have issues with the dialog or the acting, which can be very formal and austere. Still some might find that "Hero" tries too hard to be visually stunning while the plot is left to stumble along as best it can. There may be some truth to all of these, but once the movie enters its final act and things finally start revealing themselves, the solemn pace and rich visuals are nothing short of gripping.

I can remember several times during the movie when I had to suppress a giggle or a big dopey grin. And there were probably more that I can't remember as I was likely lost in the movie at the time. I wasn't grinning because "Hero" is upbeat or because it suddenly tossed out a humorous scene or bit of dialog. Nothing of the sort happens at all during the film, which never once loses its solemn air. I was simply experiencing that all too rare sensation when a film meets and then completely exceeds every one of my expectations.

I've watched the entire movie several times and I've also put in the DVD simply to watch a particular scene again: to watch Broken Sword and Flying Snow confront the betrayal that destroyed their love; to watch Nameless battle his enemies with deadly grace; to watch the king realize the weight of his rule. Each time, I come away amazed at the power and beauty of this film. There's no doubt that "Hero" is a visually stunning film, but it's also a stirring tale of heroism and sacrifice, one that moves me everytime I experience even a part of it.

Normally, the words "Chow Yun-Fat" are all it takes to get me to watch a movie. The man is surely one of the best actors working today. With the success of "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon", I only hope this gets people to check out Chow's considerable filmography. But they might be thrown for a loop with "Once A Thief". In his more prominent roles, Chow succeeds at playing the lone wolf, a guy with his own sense of honor... and displaying a considerable talent for unloading copious amounts of lead into his enemies.

But Joe, Chow's character in "Once A Thief" is quite a switch... the lovably misogynistic buffoon and carefree playboy. I guess when you're one of the world's best art thieves, you can get away with that. You see, Joe, along with Jim (Leslie Cheung) and Cherie (Cherie Chung) are world-class art thieves, raised that way since childhood by a cruel man who calls upon their talents to make a quick buck. Joe and Cherie have a "relationship", which mainly consists of him berating her and playing childish jokes on her. Well, it's hard to take it all too seriously, considering how much Chow yucks it up throughout the movie. Every gesture, every insult is exaggerated to the point of absurdity; it's almost hard to believe this is the same guy who played the stern, dignified Li Mu Bai in "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon".

Anyways, back to the movie... during an art heist gone bad, Joe gets killed, leaving Jim and Cherie to fall in love. Seems Jim has been jealous of Joe all this time, because Cherie's quite the woman and Jim has been in love with her all this time. But Joe, for reasons unexplained, never actually died, and now he's back in a wheelchair. When Jim is asked to pull one more job, stealing the painting that caused Joe to get paralyzed in the first place, Joe has to try to rescue him. Meanwhile, Cherie stays behind and looks worried.

The last part of this film is nothing but silly, over the top action sequences as the baddies try to get their mitts on the painting. Of course, it turns out that the trio's patron has been a heartless bastard all this time, and he thinks nothing of offing his progeny to have his watercolor. I have to hand it to Woo... he certainly came up with some innovative ways for Jim and Joe to deal with their foes (my favorite being the exploding microwave and flaming basketball). It's relatively entertaining, especially watching Chow Yun-Fat go nuts and drop some kung fu... and his battle with the guy that throws exploding and flaming playing cards is quite nice. But that's not why you should watch this movie, if you feel so inclined.

Even if you don't particularly care for Woo's brand of cinema, you have to admit the man knows how to film his movies. The guy's a genius when it comes to capturing the mood, the motion, and the energy of a scene, and "Once A Thief" is perhaps the best example of this. The cinematography is almost perverse in just how beautiful and vivid the scenes all look. My personal favorite is the scene where Jim and Joe are sneaking around a castle at night, trying to steal a supposedly cursed painting; the scenes are painted in blues so thick and rich it's almost claustrophobic, and the use of smoke and moonlight is just icing on the cake. It almost makes up for the laser limbo scene immediately afterwards...

Chan and Biao are quite athletic, especially on a skateboard, and the final fight scene is quite a riot. Biao is quite the surprise there; his moves are so crazy and off the wall (literally) that they even give Chan a run for his money sometimes.

Unfortunately, you have to sit through lots of inane and possibly offensive humor, ranging from ethnic stereotyping to jabs at the mentally insane. Of course, being a Chan film, you really can't take anything seriously, but it's still all so incredibly inane and stupid sometimes.

For early 80's Chan, stick with stuff like "Project A" or "Police Story".

Take, for example, "The Prodigal Son". At first glance, it seems innocuous enough. Leung Chang (Yuen Biao) is widely recognized at the city's foremost kung fu expert. But the truth is that his rich father fixes all of his fights so that he doesn't get hurt. Naturally, this makes Chang the laughingstock of the area, though he's completely in the dark. Now, you might think that this film is heading straight towards the same sort of buffoonery that filled Jackie Chan's movies during his "Young Master" days.

However, things get slightly weird when Chang and his friends decide to attend a local Peking opera performance. One of his friends becomes enamored with the lead actress, and decides to make his move on her. Unfortunately for his libido, she turns out to be a man, who quickly makes short work of Chang and his pals. In an attempt to defend his honor, Chang challenges the man, Leung Yee-Tai, to a duel. Yee-Tai makes short work of Chang, revealing his kung fu for the lame joke that it is, and leaving Chang disgraced.

Determined to become a martial arts champion, Chang insists that Yee-Tai take him as his student. The actor refuses, so Chang gets his dad to buy the whole opera (talk about investing for your kid's future) so there's no way Chang can be refused. Yee-Tai grudgingly accepts Chang as his student, but still refuses to teach him any kung fu.

Yawn... so far, very little happens. Despite all of the comedic setup, there's very little laughworthy material. It's more goofy than anything else, what with the music that would make Sid and Marty Kroft green with envy and the overly effeminate Yee-Tai. In fact, you start to wonder if anything is going to happen at all. The opera journeys to another town and gets ready to perform. However, when Chang is mistaken for an actor who has been having an affair, things start to pick up. Yee-Tai makes short work of the angry husband and his goons, much to the interest of Lord Ngai, a local nobleman who has been looking for a worthy opponent.

Ngai invites the whole opera troupe to his house, hoping to challenge Yee-Tai to a match. In one of the film's finest kung fu sequences, Yee-Tai proves that he's more than a match for Ngai. However, he also reveals his asthma affliction. Being honorable, Ngai refuses to beat him. However, word of Yee-Tai makes it back to Ngai's father. Like Chang's father, he doesn't want any harm to come his son, and like all good fathers would do in his situation, he arranges to have whole opera troupe killed.

It's here when the film just goes out the window. The troupe is massacred in the middle of the night, a slaughter that's fairly graphic - women and children getting their throats slit (with nice matching sound effects), limbs getting shattered, and everything going up in flames. What makes it even more impacting is how unexpected it feels. Up until this point, the film had been fairly innocuous and frivolous, and then it just explodes into a bloody slaughter that literally smacks you upside the head and leaves you reeling.

But, just as suddenly, we're back to Goofyland. Yee-Tai and Chang escape into the countryside, where they shack in a farm. Conveniently, they just happen to be now living next door to Yee-Tai's brother, Wong (Sammo Hung). Compared to the effeminate Yee-Tai, Wong is blowhard and a buffoon who enjoys homosexual jokes about Yee-Tai, and who also just happens to be one heckuva calligrapher. After an initial misunderstanding (Wong's daughter thinks Chang is trying to sexually assault her, although Chang is merely going after a chicken - they must be in Southern China), an uneasy truce is struck.

Eventually, Yee-Tai and Wong begin to teach Chang kung fu (though both think the other's style is inferior). And there's still plenty of goofy humor (especially Wong's "taking a crap" style), and some patently crude humor (mostly at the expense of Yee-Tai, who is commonly referred to as a "fairy" and "faggot" by the boorish Wong). But Yee-Tai's asthma gets the best of him, and Chang is forced to return home so his master can heal up.

Unfortunately for Yee-Tai, Ngai is waiting for him, and his men still have orders to protect him at any cost. This leads to your always popular "you killed my master" final battle, which takes place at some conveniently located Mayan ruins. Like the opera massacre, the final battle is surprisingly brutal and savage (oozing wounds, split-open heads, and other goodies), and like the opera massacre, it comes out of nowhere... and it leaves you reeling.

By now, there's no way around it; "The Prodigal Son" is a bipolar movie. There's no other way to say it. One minute, you're groaning at the movie's lame/crude/bizarre/goofy humor, and the next you're peeking out between your fingers at the violence. I'm not sure if this sort of manic-depressive pacing was intentional or not, to keep the viewer off-balance, or if that's just the way it turned out. Whatever the case, its the movie's best feature, as well as its Achilles Heel.

Everything feels out of proportion, with such outrageous emotional swings. Unfortunately, there's nothing in the actual plot that keeps you riveted. Despite the film's best efforts, the plot feels incredibly hackneyed and cliched, right down the big final battle (a staple of martial arts cinema to be fair) which also feels anticlimactic. Ngai is innocent of Yee-Tai's death (it's his father's fault) but Chang insists on fighting him anywise; there is no major bade in this film.

On top of that, the performances are nothing outstanding, merely passable at best. Biao has never impressed me with his acting; he's an agile enough fellow, but he lacks the charisma necessary to carry off the film. It doesn't help matters when he's constantly upstaged by the rivalry between Yee-Tai and Wong, or the movie's huge mood swings.

"The Prodigal Son" has been called one of the most authentic martial arts movies of all time, and that might be true. There's certainly enough bloodshed and pain to go around for all involved; noone leaves a fight unscathed or unscratched. And there are impressive martial arts sequences sprinkled throughout the movie. But that doesn't save the film from its unsteady nature. Sure, it's worth watching just for the sheer delirium of it all. But between the inane gay jokes, slit throats, sexual double entendres involving poultry and portly girls, decapitations, the lost H.R. Pufnstuf soundtrack, and senseless beatings, just don't expect a any of it to make sense.

But at least you'll be able to claim you saw it... and that's worth something in my book.

Mr. Chow (Leung) and Mrs. Chan (Cheung) move into the same building on the same day. Their spouses are always absent; Mrs. Chow works late and Mr. Chan works abroad much of the time. Being neighbors, the two constantly encounter eachother and strike up a minor friendship. However, their relationship becomes more than tangential when they discover their spouses are having an affair together. This revelation leaves them shocked and hurt, and unable to confide in anyone else, they confide in eachother.

Soon, they're spending much of their free time together, trying to figure out how to confront their spouses. Naturally, they discover something within eachother that was missing from their marriages. However, bound by tradition and their own sense of honor, they're reluctant to act upon it. As such, their entire relationship develops in silence and half-shared glances. Rather than lapse into a passionate affair, their relationship is expressed in the slightest of terms; a glance or a simple brushing of hands conveys as much emotion, hurt, and longing as any passionate embrace.

And even when it appears as if things might intensify between them, the reality of the infidelity in their lives sets in. It could be a sudden memory of their spouse, or a moment spent practicing for the inevitable confrontation. And it is painful to watch; as wrong as it might be, there is a part of you that wishes they would get together, if only to ease their loneliness. It's hinted at in the final moments that, perhaps, they did just that. But the core of the film is this awkward intimacy of their's, which they fan and try to smother at the same time.

Even though they rarely talk to eachother, and rarely let their gazes meet, the longing in each scene is thick enough to cut with a knife. And Kar-Wai's direction lets the viewer experience it as well. Much of the movie is shot through doorways, hallways, windows, or with the couple obscured in some way. By distancing the viewer from the characters, it mirrors, in some way, the distance that exists between Chow and Chan. He lets the characters express their longing by gazing at eachother in the mirror. The fact that they can only smile at eachother's reflections, when captured by Kar-Wai, speaks volumes about their stifled love. At certain moments, he literally freezes the characters, and lets the camera drift over their faces, their bodies, and slowly through the room. Any sudden motion suddenly feels out of place, even wrong, in those preserved moments.

As beautiful as Kar-Wai's direction can be, it's matched stride for stride by the performances of Leung and Cheung. Their character's chemistry is palpable and intense, even though they can never express it. Leung is able to make something as small as a vacant stare and fill it with frustration and longing. Cheung is simply radiant. Although most might recognize her name from manic action films, her performance is refined and repressed. As tightly wound as she is, it makes any emotional outburst devastating.

"In The Mood For Love" is a trying picture to watch, and it does feel like it goes slightly longer than it should. And in keeping faithful to the story, and to his character's lives, there is no "happily ever after", no running into eachother's arms. Even though it's hinted that they finally consummate their passion, it's still treated as chastely as possible. For them, there really can be no real resolution. As deep and real as their love was, it doesn't fix their lives or heal their hearts. The final moments make it feel like the whole movie was more of a memory than anything else, a memory filtered through years of regret.

And If you've ever experienced unrequited love or ever wanted a relationship to exist so badly and yet knew that it never could, the feelings splashed across the screen hit remarkably close to the heart.

Early reports on the film drew comparisons between "Dolls" and "Magnolia" and though that's accurate in some respects - both films employ multiple, thematically-linked storylines - it's also quite misleading. "Dolls" is a very quiet, subtle film, a meditation on love gone wrong. Kitano tells a trio of stories here, two of which are embedded in the first. The film's core is the story of Sawako and Matsumoto, a young couple of Japanese lovers engaged to be married despite their poverty.

Things fall apart when Matsumoto is matched up with the daughter of his firm's owner. Though he initially resists the match, pointing to his prior engagement and the strength of his feelings for Sawako, he eventually yields to the pressure of his parents and the lure of a comfortable life. Matsumoto breaks his engagement with Sawako and enters into a new engagement with his boss' daughter. The morning of his wedding, two friends arrive at the ceremony, pull him aside, and tell him that Sawako has attempted suicide and is in the hospital.

Feeling horribly guilty, Matsumoto leaves his new bride at the altar and goes to the hospital to see Sawako, now catatonic in her grief. He discharges her from the hospital and makes it his mission in life to care for her even though this costs him his job. The two of them, now homeless, wander throughout the country, tied together at the waist to prevent Sawako from wandering off.

As the couple, now something of a folk legend called the Bound Beggars, moves through the country, Kitano cuts away to tell us the stories of other similarly tragic figures that they come across. The first is of an aging yakuza crime lord slowly coming to the realization that he threw away the best part of his life when he left the lover of his youth to go and make something of himself. Meanwhile, the lover returns weekly to the park where he left so long ago and waits for him to keep his promise and come back to her. The second story deals with a Japanese pop star who has survived a horrible car accident and now lives in seclusion so that nobody can see the damage done to her face, and the adult groupie who has spent years worshipping her from afar.

To say any more about the individual stories would be a disservice to the film, but they are truly haunting and beautiful.

"Dolls" is a bittersweet, tragic film. Though we're given absolutely minimal information on the characters, the performances are so strong and subtle that you have no problem believing one hundred percent that these are real people on the screen. Their pain is palpable, as are the bursts of hope and joy that flash throughout. The pacing, though much slower than what North American audiences are used to, is absolutely perfect and the visuals are simply stunning. This got a standing ovation when the closing credits rolled and absolutely deserved it.

I don't necessarily buy that, simply because such comparisons simply scratch the surface of both movies. I will say that "Magnolia" certainly resonated more with me as an individual. But "Yi Yi" left me cold many times throughout the picture. It's definitely a trying film to watch at times; Yang is very content to let the scenes speak for themselves, without feeling a need to use dialog. Many scenes are simple setups to let the characters' actions, or lack thereof, convey all of the emotions. Sometimes this approach works, but at other times it feels conspicuous and halting.

The movie also suffers because, to be honest, some of the stories simply are not interesting. At times, peripheral characters take over the film's focus, whereas it feels like more important, or at the very least, more interesting characters are forced into the background. The two most interesting characters, the family's daughter, Ting-Ting, and son, Yang Yang, often drop out of the film. However, I think the movie would've benefited greatly if had spent more time looking at the scenarios through their eyes.

One thing, however, is that "Yi Yi" is simply gorgeous to watch. At times, I was reminded of "The Scent Of Green Papaya", another slow-moving yet beautiful film. Both film's take great joy and peering into the ordinary and finding the beauty within. Yang seems very fond of shooting through windows, giving us a near-voyeuristic look at what's going inside. These shots are always gorgeous, with the reflections (usually of traffic and crowds of people) providing the tension in the scene.

But "Yi Yi"'s close attention to detail also makes for a film that is, well, a little trying at times. Even the most emotional scenes feel subdued simply because of the vast spaces between them. I feel like I should be "haunted" by this film, that it should be lodged in the back of my head as I try and figure out the significance of this scene or that scene. But that's not the case. I want to give this film another viewing, just to see if I missed anything. I'm willing to give Yang the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps that might change my opinion of "Yi Yi", but until then, my feelings will have to remain mixed.

The film follows Mark (Chow Yun-Fat) and Ho (Ti Lung). They're money counterfeiters, and quite good at it. However, Ho is torn when it comes to his brother Kit (Leslie Cheung), who is a cop and is ignorant of Ho's criminal life. During a botched deal, Ho is captured and sent to prison. During his time in prison, Mark and Kit's lives change dramatically. Mark gets wounded while trying to avenge Ho's capture and Kit cannot get promoted because of Ho's past. After he's released, Ho tries to go straight. Unfortunately, both Ho's old friends and his brother assume he's the same man, and Ho must eventually deal with his past and the repurcussions it's had.

The concepts of honor and loyalty that have become a Woo trademark are here in copious amounts, especially between Mark and Ho. Unfortunately, Woo always walks a fine line with his films. On the one hand, they are very emotional, and as such, can be extremely exciting and thrilling to watch. However, this often means his films become very melodramatic. Such is the case with "A Better Tomorrow". The ending is typical Woo, where honor and loyalty require great sacrifices, but the film often feels jarring along the way, lacking the smoothness and fluid feel that Woo's later films possessed in abundance. And though there are several violent gunfights, they lack the style and visual flair that Woo later developed into an artform. It feels like Woo was using this movie as a test run for his later works, and as such, it doesn't always gel.

Both Chow Yun-Fat and Ti Lung give incredible performances as friends who are ready to sacrifice everything for eachother, but even their performances can't pull all of the elements of this film together. Chow Yun-Fat has the best scene in the movie, when Ho comes back to see Mark after he's become a crippled beggar. It's the perfect example of why he's one of the best actors in the world today. If you're looking for the essential Woo films, watch "Hard Boiled" and "The Killer." But if you want to see how Woo's incredible style began and how much it has since matured, watch "A Better Tomorrow".

* - Come to think of it, the very first Woo movie I saw was "Broken Arrow", and though I enjoyed it, I don't think it counts.

On the surface, "Once Upon A Time In China" is about Wong Fei-Hung, a Chinese folk hero. Played quite easily by Jet Li, Fei-Hung comes across as a stern moral teacher who, more often than not, has his hands full with his troublesome pupils (who are the source of much of the movie's comedic antics). However, Fei-Hung finds that he has three much more serious problems. The first is a local gang that has been terrorizing the local populace. The second is a local kung fu master who challenges Fei-Hung so that he can become the local master. But the third, and much more insidious danger, are all of the outsiders and foreigners coming into China, especially the British and Americans who are carving up China for themselves.

To say there's a strong nationalist streak running through the movie would be an understatement. This movie practically revels in its Chinese-ness. But rather than coming off as xenophobic or jingoistic, you begin to sympathize with the Chinese. Their culture and nation are slowly being carved up, their people lured to foreign lands with the promise of gold and fortune, only to return nearly dead and penniless (if they make it back at all). Fei-Hung, being the strong moral man that he is, knows something has to change, but feels completely powerless to do so. He's afraid of a changing China, but realizes that it's completely inevitable. Li does an incredible job of conveying this struggle. Who says kung-fu actors can't act?!?

But remember, this is ultimately a kung fu movie, and a gorgeous one at that. I must say that this movie contains some of the most beautiful and striking images I've ever seen in a movie that boasts this much butt-kicking. In the opening sequence, Fei-Hung leads the local militia in morning exercises; watching a hundred men do perfectly executed kung fu against the sunrise and the ocean is sheer visual poetry. Hark's use of slow-motion, especially during fights in the middle of a thunderstorm, lends a surreal feel to it all. And his use of shadows and a single candle adds a whole new dimension to the film's romantic subplot, which involves Fei-Hung and his Aunt Yee (who's not really his aunt), played by Rosamund Kwan.

Okay, so the movie is beautiful to watch. What about the kung fu?!? Well, if you're not a fan of wire-enhanced kung fu mayhem, you might be a little put off by this one, because there are wires galore. Granted, it doesn't diminish Li's grace and power one bit, but some scenes look a little hokey, especially the final fight between Li and the local kung fu master, which takes place in a warehouse full of ladders. But Li's natural grace, combined with Hark's camerawork manages to make the hokiest kung fu move a visual delight.

This was the movie that rocketed Jet Li to stardom. He's second only to Jackie Chan in terms of popularity, and you can see why in this movie. He's a better actor than a lot of people probably give him credit for. This is probably the most serious role I've seen him in, next to "Fist Of Legend", and he pulls it off quite well. And I'm sure that the film's strong nationalist tendencies probably filled many of the original audience with more than just a little bit of pride. This movie has a lot going for it, what with Li's on-screen persona and Hark's skill behind the camera. Visually striking, combined with a great story and great acting, this is definitely one of the "premier" kung fu movies, and certainly deserves to be called an "epic" in the genre...

So I hope you'll understand my joy when I discovered that "The Killer" would be coming out on DVD again. Althought not with the Criterion Collection's super-duper deluxe treatment, I don't really care because I finally own one of the greatest action movies I've ever seen in a pristine, digital format.

In what may be arguably considered to be one of John Woo's greatest films (the other being "Hard Boiled"), Woo takes his themes of honor, duty, and friendship to incredible heights. And of course, there's Woo's trademark over-the-top, yet never gratuitous violence. In fact, Woo is the only director who can take blood spurting out of a fresh gunshot wound and somehow extract some sort of abstract beauty from it. Combatants, pistols in each hand, spin and pirouette like dancers packing heat; bodies flying through the air jerk and twitch as they're riddled with bullets; explosions fill the screen as cars explode and buildings are shot up. It's a wonder that it all doesn't become a muddled mess of blood and fire, but under Woo's guidance, it unfolds like an opera or one of the musicals that Woo was fascinated by as a child.

Chow Yun-Fat plays Jeffrey, the best hitman in the business. The only problem is that Jeffrey has a conscience. When he accidentally blinds a lounge singer during a hit, he takes it upon himself to watch over her. When he discovers that a costly operation is the only thing that can return her sight, he takes one last job. However, his employers are afraid that he has been discovered, and refuse to pay the fee, even sending other hitmen and Jeffrey's best friend against him. On top of that, Jeffrey has a cop, Li (played by Danny Lee), on his trail. But once Li discovers that Jeffrey actually operates under a code of honor, he finds himself siding with the hitman as the film reaches its conclusion.

Chow Yun-Fat is in peak form here, as he slides through each scene with more charisma and grace in his pinky than most of Hollywood's "leading men" have in their entire body. He's equally skilled at portraying the cold, efficient killer as well as the noble man pained by the consequences of his lifestyle. Although Danny Lee and Sally Yeh (who portrays Jenny, the singer Jeffrey wounds) do fine jobs as well, this is really Chow Yun-Fat's tour de force. The only actor who comes close to matching Chow Yun-Fat is Chu Kong, who plays Jeffrey's best friend and contact, Sydney. The scenes between Sydney and Jeffrey are all excellent, but Sydney's shining moment takes place when he tries to retrieve Jeffrey's money. Even after being beaten and humiliated, he refuses to back down, determined to remain faithful to his friend.

It's really impossible to take this film realistically, given the outrageous action sequences and gunfights. Each one becomes more outrageous than the one before, until it culminates in a violent bloodbath at a monastery. However, i found myself more intrigued by the little, less violent flourishes. Only Woo can take the act of picking up a pistol and make it look like a spiritual act. During the boat chase, when Li first crosses paths with Jeffrey, Woo intercuts scenes with a traditional dragon boat race. One second, you'll see the hitman and his police pursuers in modern speedboats. The next sees a hundred men rowing with all of their might, water churning and drums pounding out the rhythm of the scene. It sounds like a simple juxtaposition, but it adds a tension to the chase.

However, I think my favorite image in the movie takes place after a beachfront shootout. Jeffrey has rushed a little girl shot in the melee to the local hospital, with Li in hot pursuit. Jeffrey holds Li and his partner in gunpoint, waiting to see if the girl pulls through. Woo frames in close to the girl's still fingers - they look like the most delicate, fragile things in the world. We watch them twitch as the girl regains consciousness, and a gentle melody is heard. Woo cuts back to Jeffrey, and we watch this vicious killer, gun in hand, grin with relief. it's at that point that we know this is no ordinary hitman, but a man with nobility and honor. It's this theme of nobility and honor that underscores everything Woo does in "The Killer", and keeps the movie from being reduced to a violent bloodbath resorting to gratuitousness to be entertaining. That's what Hollywood is for.

I started the marathon off with a crappy martial arts film, so it seems only fitting that I close with a great one, albeit one that most people have probably never heard of. That's a real shame, because "The South Shaolin Master" is an unsung classic with excellent fight choreography and gorgeous cinematography (the Chinese countryside should be billed as a cast member). Lin Hai-Nan is a member of the Tai Ping, a resistance group fighting the corrupt rulers. Wounded in a fight, he's rescued by a traveling acting troupe that is being harassed by a local ruler. If you don't think the two are related, than you obviously haven't watched enough kung fu movies. Lin, now known as Ah Nan, and the acting troupe find themselves facing a common enemy, a magistrate named Ha Er-Ci. When their troupe is decimated by Ha, they seek refuge in a Shaolin monastery. There, Lin works on a killer technique to defeat Ha, which basically consists of strengthening his kneecaps for hours. If you think that sounds crazy, buy the DVD and see for yourself!

Filmed in mainland China without any big names, "The South Shaolin Master" seems to have slipped past most fans' radars. But it's a real treat, and a nice change of pace. The film is fairly dramatic, with only a handful of comedic moments when compared to some of the other, better known films from that time period ("Wheels On Meals", "Winners And Sinners"). The fights are also a joy to watch, combining some of the prop-based action you'd find in Jackie Chan's movies with more classical moves.

"The South Shaolin Master" also touches on the unique role that acrobatic troupes played in the preservation of Chinese martial arts. As the Shaolin temples found themselves under persecution from the government, they trained these troupes in kung fu. The troupes incorporated this training into their dancing and tumbling, ensuring its survival even as the government cracked down on the temples. This paved the way for the Peking Opera, out of which arose the kung fu cinema that we currently know and love.

The movie might seem a bit longer than its 96 minutes, especially if you're comparing it to the aforementioned movies (though I find it more rewarding). The film does drag during a long dragon boat race that just gets in the way of the serious whoop-ass you know is just around the corner. Even so, this is a true gem that has remained hidden for far too long. Hopefully more people will get a chance to check it out soon, especially considering the really nice DVD transfer that's currently available.

One such man, Hanshiro, appears at the gates of the honorable Iyi Clan's castle, asking that they provide him with the facilities necessary to commit harakiri. Although suspicious at first, since many other ronin in a similar situation have tried to blackmail the clan for some money or a new job, Hanshiro manages to convince them that he really does wish to commit harakiri. While waiting for the arrangements to be made, the head of the Clan recounts a similar story that took place earlier that year.

Another ronin, Chijiiwa, appeared at their gates with a request similar to Hanshiro's. But unlike Hanshiro, he lacked the resolve to go through with it. What's more, Chijiiwa's status as a samurai was even doubtful to begin with; he carried bamboo swords, something no true samurai would do. Ultimately, Chijiiwa is forced to commit harakiri in order to prove his honor, and in the film's most shocking scene, disembowels himself with his bamboo blade.

After Chijiiwa's story is done, Hanshiro prepares to go through with his ceremony. But before he does, he tells his story, one that is inextricably linked with Chijiiwa's. At first, it's the tale of a poor, clan-less warrior trying to eke out a life for himself, his daughter, and the son of his best friend. But soon, it becomes a scathing indictment of the cruelty and harshness of bushido, the samurai code of honor.

Although the samurai strive to be paragons of honor and virtue, compassion and mercy are beneath them, and they have nothing but contempt for those who don't match their lofty standards. But that contempt masks hypocrisy - samurai are still human after all, with all of the normal failings and weaknesses - and as Hanshiro's story comes to an end, the truth about the "honorable" Iyi Clan is revealed.

While perhaps not as recognizable as Toshiro Mifune, Tatsuya Nakadai was one of Japan's greatest samurai actors, appearing films like "Sword Of Doom", "Sanjuro", and "Samurai Rebellion". Nakadai absolutely owns "Harakiri" from beginning to end, delivering a riveting and gripping performance as Hanshiro. At first, he seems to be a common warrior looking to save face, but as the movie goes on, his aura grows deadlier and more menacing as he exposes the Iyi Clan for what it truly is.

Those expecting some crazy hack n' slash adventure like "Shogun Assassin" might be disappointed with "Harakiri". The film moves pretty fairly slowly at times, especially with the constant flashbacks, but it's not long before you find yourself totally drawn in. The dialog might seem too melodramatic at times, even silly, especially when characters praise the virtues of a proper disembowelment and debate the meaning of honor with flowery dialog and grim expressions. But that's the point. By comparing such scenes with the samurais' cold and callous actions, it exposes their hypocrisy. It's hard to call someone honorable when they compliment a man for using the proper disembowelment technique while, in the next room, his sickly child lay dying.

The film inevitably marches towards a final showdown, and all of the tension and bitterness just explodes in the movie's final 15 minutes or so. Again, Nakadai is just amazing to watch. There's a steely glint in his eyes that's riveting, and when he marches towards his opponents, with his arms crossed across his chest and katana ready to strike... well, let's just say his foe(s) are going to need some clean drawers... if their heads are still attached to their bodies, that is.

"Harakiri" may not be as famous as Kurosawa and Mifune's samurai pictures, but it's a great one nonetheless, well worth the time spent seeking it out (I'd love to see this reissued on DVD). While films like Mifune's "Samurai" trilogy espouse the glories of bushido and how it can help a cruel, base man find honor and decency, "Harakiri" exposes bushido's dark side. "Harakiri"'s samurai are not noble men. Rather, they are men who follow bushido instead of their conscience, instead of their heart. Their sense of honor is nothing more than a veneer, a way to justify dishonorable, and even evil actions. The film's final scene chillingly drives home that idea. There is no happy ending, but simply a warning against the evil that can be done, all in the name of honor and righteousness.

Angela Lee's performance as Mun, the woman tortured with these visions, is first-rate and really anchors the film. Her portrayal of a woman coming to terms with sight is striking and very touching. I think what I like best about it is her naiveté. Because of her blindness, she has no idea what things look like. Therefore, when she sees stuff that would scare the bejeezers out of normal people, she reacts with curiosity, assuming this is just one more thing to get used to as a seeing person. But when she is scared, her trembling hands and wide-eyed look are a little too eerie for comfort.

There's a greater feeling of tragedy and sorrow running throughout "The Eye" than "The Sixth Sense" (itself a fairly somber film). This becomes very clear as we learn more about Ling, the tortured young woman who stands at the center of everything. As the audience and Mun begin to understand Ling's cursed life, especially her troubled childhood, it grows very sobering without ever seeming manipulative or forced.

As with "Bangkok Dangerous" (the Pang's previous film), what really distinguishes "The Eye" is its style. The film's stunning cinematography, editing, and direction, combined with outstanding effects, ensure that the film always remains riveting.

The visual effects are great - especially during Mun's many frightening visions, such as when she wakes up to find her bedroom slowly morphing into someone else's - but what really got me the second time around was the movie's sound. Since Mun has been blind most of her life, she's lived in a world dominated by sound, and the directors work this angle to the hilt. Every subtle noise, be it a footstep, a door swooshing open, or air rushing through a vent, could very well mean something very ominous.

These all combine to create a film that manages to stand on its own merit, rather than get written off as a "Sixth Sense" knock-off (unless you want to get really nitpicky). The Pangs know how to create loads of atmosphere, and there are some genuinely creepy sequences (you won't look at elevators the same way, I guarantee). Once again, the duo prove themselves capable of taking what should be an unoriginal story and injecting it with fresh life and an unexpected twist or two. Enough so that successive viewings still yield something new and interesting.

Wada, A harried Japanese businessman is sent to a remote Chinese village to investigate a jade mine, along with a surly yakuza member named Ujiie (this is a Miike film, after all) and their slightly addled guide, Shen. As they make their way to the village, leaving the modern world behind, they find themselves drawn to the simpler, quieter life and into a mystery surrounding a young girl who is teaching the village children how to fly.

Miike's not above putting messages in his films - even his more outrageous titles might deal with some issues - and this time around it's a commentary on the modern world and it's tendency to rob life of its spice and vigor, as well as its potential for corruption. For Wada and Ujiie, the trip to the village represents, both literally and figuratively, a trip back to their roots, to a more basic and fulfilling existence that is far removed from the materialism, wealth, and power represented by urban living.

Unlike the Miike films you may know and love, The Bird People In China keeps it subtle and understated throughout, with only the occasional quirkiness thrown in (i.e. the turtle-powered raft the characters use to make it across a flooded river). And once they make it to the village, it's easy to understand why the characters would become so enamored with it. The Chinese landscape, as captured by award-winning cinematographer Hideo Yamamoto, is absolutely breathtaking.

There are a few moments when the emotional gist of the film falls a bit flat, especially concerning the transformation of Ujiie. At times, the film becomes too understated for its own good, resulting in moments that should be slightly more emphatic emotionally not quite having the heft they could've had. However, it's quite refreshing to see that Miike is quite capable of a gentler touch, of producing something quite unlike the more sadistic stuff that has the entire cult film world in love with him. Even with its flaws, The Bird People In China is downright heart-tugging compared to Miike's usual fare.

Jet Li places Ling, a swordsman whose only desires in life are to spend the rest of his life in seclusion with his fellow swordsmen, and drink lots of wine. But that's all foiled when he and his cohorts get drawn into a power struggle within the Sun Moon Sect. The old leader has been ousted, and in his place is Asia The Invincible (played by Brigitte Lin). But Asia is hungry for power, and so consults an ancient scroll for supernatural strength. Happy-go-lucky Ling is forced to fight Asia and his ninja forces, but Asia's increasing strength soon becomes insurmountable. And to top it all off, Ling finds himself falling love with the tyrant.

Oh wait a minute... I think I forgot to mention that in order for Asia to become all-powerful, he needed to castrate himself and undergo a process where he slowly transforms into a woman. Did I forget to mention that? Well, silly me.

That's just an example of what I'm talking about with this film. I don't mind the "thrill a minute" approach that HK films take. But this film... this film throws so much at you it's nearly impossible to take in. And then just when it starts getting good, the movie hits a brick wall and we're subjected to painful dialog, silly hijinks, and incomprehensible plot twists. It could be due to the atrocious subtitles, but I spent way too much of this movie trying to put two and two together.

It also didn't help the film too much that it didn't have a strong focal character. You'd think it'd be Ling, since Li is easily the biggest star in the picture, but a considerable amount of time is spent on peripheral characters that really don't matter to the film. Even the supposed "romance" between Ling and Asia feels woefully underdeveloped. The few scenes that occur between them never establish anything but the most basic of relationships.

Now, I suppose I should back up and say that this film did have some incredibly cool sequences. Any film with attacks like "Sword Energy", "Recoiling Whip", or "Bomb Sword" has some merit. Where else do you get to see a horse cut in half by a ninja? And you can never get enough of heroines who shoot snakes out of their sleeves, and control them with a whistle. My favorite sequences are those involving Asia's supernatural powers, as s/he obliterates her rivals; bodies explode, blood spurts everywhere, and Hong Kong proves that you don't need fancy special effects to create an eerie atmosphere for sorcery. But even such effective and interesting flourishes can't keep the film from being a mess.

I think I made a mistake when I bought this film. It was the first Jet Li film I ever watched, and I think it may very well have spoiled all of his other films for me. "Fist Of Legend" is, without a doubt, one of the best kung fu films I've ever seen, for various reasons. One, and perhaps most importantly, the martial arts action is incredibly fast, precise, and dazzling (courtesy of Yuen Woo-Ping). Two, it's actually a film, with a cohesive plot and credible acting, rather than mere lines of dialog meant to fill up the spaces between fights.

Technically, this is a remake of Bruce Lee's "Chinese Connection." Li plays the title character, Chen Zhen, a Chinese student studying in Japan. Upon dispatching a group of bullies with incredible ease, he learns his master has been killed in a match with a Japanese master, Akutagawa. Returning home, he quickly takes care of Akutagawa and discovers that his master was actually killed by poison. Framed for the murder of Akutagawa, he is saved only when his Japanese girlfriend testifies on his behalf. Unable to stay in his school due to his girlfriend being Japanese, and unwilling to leave the woman behind, he is forced to fight his best friend and leave the school. Eventually, he and his best friend must reconcile their differences and face the Japanese together.

Alright, so it sounds cliched, but it works so well in this film. The acting is well-done, and Li gives a pretty good performance. He manages to convey the emotions of a man torn between his school and his master's honor, and the woman he must take care of. Although the film has a pretty serious, dramatic tone (which is also a bit of switch from most kung fu films, which border on slapstick many times), Li is up to it. Unlike Jackie Chan, who lovably hams it up for the camera in most of his films, Li has an edge to him and his screen presence is undeniable.

"But let's get to the most important part," you say. As I said before, the martial arts in this film are among some of the best I've ever seen. Li is incredibly quick and fast. Unlike Jackie Chan, who is at his best when mixing in slapstick humor between the punches, Li is precise and serious. The opening fight scene with the nationalists only whets your appetite for what is to follow. Especially fun to watch is the fight between Chen Zhen and his girlfriend's uncle, who has come to test Zhen's abilities, and the long final fight sequence never gets tiresome. The pacing of the film is excellent too, so that when a fight occurs, it feels natural within the flow of the film. And if you're not a fan of the wire tricks that are prevalent in Li's other films, don't worry; they're kept to a minimum here.

The only real complaint I have is the music, which sounds like it belongs on the 6 o'clock news rather than a kung fu flick, but that's just me. Shoot, forget I wrote that. If you consider yourself a martial arts fan in the slightest, you'll need to see this film. But like I said, it's spoiled every other Li film I've seen up to date. Granted, the guy's got a pretty sizable catalog, but this one leaves a pretty big shadow for his other films to stand in. I only hope that they release this on DVD soon, because I may very well wear out my VHS copy.

If you're curious as to how "Fist Of Legend" holds up to "Chinese Connection," I'll have to be honest. I like "Fist Of Legend" a lot better. Granted, "Chinese Connection" has Bruce Lee's legendary presence. However, I think "Fist Of Legend" just works better as a movie, and I find it's one of the few martial arts movies I can watch repeatedly without it getting tiresome and predictable.

Just a little trivia: Yuen Woo-Ping (Iron Monkey) also choreographed all of the martial arts in "The Matrix." After watching "Fist Of Legend," the Wachowski brothers (who wrote and directed "The Matrix," and who are also big kung fu/Hong Kong fans themselves) decided that they needed to bring Woo-Ping onboard.