REVIEW:
Noted martial arts star Chen Kuan Tai proves to be a capable dramatic actor in The Tea House, a gritty, stylized, and occasionally funny drama dealing with the plight of refugees attempting to adjust to the bureaucracy and crime in Hong Kong's urban landscape. The story is actually not unlike what is found in Boxer from Shantung, also starring Kuan Tai two years prior. But where Kuan Tai is previously lured into using his incredible martial arts skill to fight his way up the criminal ladder in 1930's Shanghai, he now makes every effort to avoid this path of violence.

Kuan Tai was one of the first real exponents of kung fu to become a superstar in Hong Kong, with the independently produced Iron Monkey (1977) being one of his finest showcases. His fans will no doubt be disappointed to discover that he shuns all martial arts in this film in order to focus his efforts on acting. Having dispensed with that disclaimer, we can now move on to the rest of the story.

The film is loosely structured in episodes that build upon one another to create a standoff between the tea house residents and basically the entire world around them. A teenager played by Wang Yu, who lives and works at the tea house ends up in jail after becoming involved with the triads. In a humorous moment, he goes out with the intention of becoming incarcerated after being kicked out of the tea house, but finds his impromptu robbery foiled when the victim turns out to be a government official caught having an affair. The kid is paid to keep his mouth shut and when later he is busted for another robbery, finds himself throwing insults at the lenient judge in order to have his sentence extended. The tone of the story grows darker when a waitress is fatally struck by a car as a result of a gang assault. From here on, Kuan Tai finds his tea house increasingly at the center of growing triad scrutiny, especially after he successfully fakes being a triad boss himself. During this time, a subplot involving Kuan Tai's romantic relationship with a single mother of two unfolds. Once a police investigator begins to suspect Kuan Tai of triad ties and an all out gang war appears eminent, he's forced to make a decision that I will leave for interested viewers to uncover.

The most notable aspect of this film is the realistic flavor director Gwai Chi Hung delivers. He has managed to helm all manner of films and his versatility really shines on this project. As a drama, the film is played fairly straight without the typically broad Cantonese melodrama seen in classic kung fu titles of the day. Ching Siu Tung, who went on to great success choreographing hits like Dragon Inn (1992) and Shaolin Soccer (2001), had his debut on this film. The style of combat used in the film is realistic, which is to say purposely awkward and raw. This crude approach where combatants simply come swinging at each other is contrasted by Chi Hung's stylish approach to filming these scenes. Slow-motion is used rather than sped up undercranking, while music that drowns out all other sounds turns the scenes into a surreal experience. This is a technique that really enhances the film experience.

While on the surface, the film appears to play to Hong Kong audiences of the era who might have identified with the frustrations of both judicial and civil injustices in the territory, the protagonists' efforts to do what's right in an unfair situation has universal relevance. On every level, I watched the film, as Kuan Tai's fists clenched in frustration and anger, hoping that he would suddenly reveal incredible kung fu skills and defeat all of his opponents. But, that moment never comes and in a refreshing twist, he makes a decision based on logic and common sense rather than on raw emotion.

The Tea House has an 'art house' aesthetic that offers a surprising rich and smart story set in a semi-real world where fighting is less appealing than love and loyalty, as it should be in the real world.