Following the sacking of the Shaolin temple by the Manchus (which is never depicted in this film due to budgetry constraints one suspects) Shaolin rebel leader Wen Hung (Wen Chiang Long) barely escapes with his life after an encounter with the villainous Wong Wu Ti (Sze Ma Lung). Wong Wu Ti's 'Shaking Eagle' technique (its always great when the villain has a gimmick like a special style or weapon) leaves Wen Hung badly injured and he is rescued by two hapless peasants Hsiao Tung (Stephen Tung Wei) and Tai Pei (Dean Shek) who happen to be out in the forest gathering herbs.

In return for saving and hiding him from the Manchus, Wen Hung teaches the pair the Lohan style of kung fu (although he only teaches them 6 of the 18 techniques) which comes in handy when the Manchus finally track them down and Stephen Tung Wei has to face the 'shaking eagle'.

Aside from the great shaking eagle technique (which I suppose could look quite laughable if you didn't watch this in the right frame of mind) the film features some inspired choreography courtesy of Yuen Cheung Yan and a wonderful acrobatic performance from Stephen Tung Wei. Dean Shek also gets some fight scenes although he is completely outclassed by his co-star. The plot is far from original but adequate for this kind of film where the emphasis is on great action and training scenes.

It wasn't always like that, though. Most of the elements in these martial arts films that we take for granted - the cranky teacher, the sassy student, the goofy kungfu style - are all rooted in ancient literature and performance but are relatively new to film, or as new as anything born in the 1970s can be. The martial arts have a long tradition of comedic elements being woven into stories about them, and most of this stems from the popularity of the Monkey King, Sun Wu-kong, whose immortal hijinks and kungfu clowning have pleased audiences for generations. Born in the epic 16th century mythology novel Journey to the West by Wu Cheng-en, the character of the Monkey King was a wise-cracking rebel with little regard for the politics and protocols of Heaven. Put him in charge of a sacred garden full of peaches of immortality, and all he's gonna do is get drunk, eat all the peaches, and stumble on over to Lao Tzu's place for more hijinks. Monkey was rude, disrespectful, and impish. For that, he became one of the most beloved literary figures of all time.

Peking Opera troupes frequently did performances revolving around some prank or other that Monkey was involved in and audiences ate it up with the same voracious appetite Monkey himself displayed when he took care of that holy peach garden. Stories about Monkey allowed the performers to incorporate a variety of acrobatic stunts and hijinks that, in turn, delighted audiences. Plus, it was a nice break from all the serious romantic tragedies people usually had to endure.

Inspired by the success of the Monkey King on page and stage, street performers also started working comedy into their routines. After all, watching some serious guy stand on the corner and twirl his sword might be interesting for a little bit, but after a while you're going to tire of the scowl and wander off to check out the guys who are shouting, doing flips, and generally turning their acrobatic martial arts displays into a block party. It simply made for better theater.

When motion picture creation rolled around in the early years of the 20th century, Hong Kong's first films were little more than stage plays on camera. Drama progressed, but martial arts films remained fairly theatrical in their presentation until men like Kwan Tak-hing revolutionized the way people thought about making kungfu films. When the modern era of martial arts filmmaking began in the 1960s with the Shaw Brothers wu xia (swordsman) films, whatever sense of humor the Monkey King had instilled in the martial arts was drained entirely. The Shaw Brothers films were blood-soaked tragedies full of feudal honor and revenge. Things rarely worked out well for the characters, and while many of the films were exceptional, no one is going to sit around and tell you that Trail of the Broken Blade is a raucous comedy.

When martial arts movies started making the transition from swordsmen films to kungfu films in the 1970s, the grim tone was carried over. Jimmy Wang Yu and Lo Lieh, two of the biggest star of the wu xia era, were also two of the first men to start making kungfu films. Jimmy Wang Yu made Chinese Boxer and Lo Lieh was hot on his heels with Five Fingers of Death. Although the focus shifted from knights in white tunics to gritty hand-to-hand combatants, the somber tone and tragic elements were still prevalent. It wasn't until Bruce Lee came on the scene that people started thinking about adding some laughs to the mix to lighten things up.

It's interesting that one of the criticisms of Lee by people who are generally unfamiliar with his work was that he had an imposing screen presence but was weak when it came to lightness and comedy. Nothing could be further from the truth. Not only did Bruce Lee completely change the way kungfu films were choreographed by introducing technique when previously most films just had their combatants waving their arms at each other, but he also helped alter the overall tone of the kungfu film. He alerted people to the fact that even I a relatively serious film, you could still get some belly-laughs. Nowhere was this more evident than in the movie he wrote, directed, and starred in, Way of the Dragon.

The humor wasn't exactly high-brow. It was bathroom humor - literally. But respectable or not, it was something new. You wouldn't catch Jimmy Wang Yu putting squat toilet sight gags in one of his films. Unfortunately, Lee's career was cut tragically short, so we'll never know exactly where he might have taken the genre, but the seeds he planted forever changed things. After Lee's passing, a new generation of actors and directors were set to take over the scene, and they brought with them a sense of humor that was in sharp contrast to the brutal, romantic films of the first half of the 1970s.

Chief among the new stars was a rotund fella by the name of Sammo Hung. Hung had cut his teeth as a member of a Peking Opera troupe alongside other rising stars like Yuen Biao, Yuen Wah, and some guy named Jackie Chan. Where as the previous generation of martial arts stars, those who came before Bruce Lee, had generally been classically trained actors with little prior knowledge regarding the martial arts, Sammo represented the new breed whose doors had been opened by Bruce. Sure, he was trained as an actor and acrobat, but like many members of the Peking Opera school, Sammo supplemented his theatrical training with hardcore martial arts training. By the time he left the school to pursue a film career, Sammo was an accomplished fighter, choreographer, stunt man, writer, and even director.

Perhaps even more than Bruce Lee, Sammo Hung possessed a natural understanding of what making a kungfu film meant. He understood the difference between what worked in a real fight and what looked good on screen. He understood how to make moves and styles that were too outrageous to work in real life seem completely believable in the context of a film. Given his background as a performer and martial artist, it's no surprise that he also brought with him a Monkey King like sense of warped humor. Although his early jobs as a stuntman and fight choreographer earned him a reputation as one of the best in the business, it wasn't until he wielded enough power to really shape a film in his image that the revolution began. 1977's Iron-Fisted Monk, the first film directed by Sammo, set a new standard for fight choreography, revealing to people that Sammo's talent as both a fighter and a choreographer had only been hinted at in his previous films.

At the same time, Sammo's classmate Jackie Chan was wandering down the same road toward kungfu hijinks. Chan starred in a series of go- nowhere kungfu films under the directorial lead of Lo Wei, but in 1976 the duo collaborated on a screwball kungfu film called Half a Loaf of Kungfu, and suddenly things were looking up. Instead of trying to pass Chan off as a serious presence, the movie allowed him to ham it up in a variety of silly situations. Chan was able to tap into his inner Monkey King, and the results, while not entirely classic, were certainly worth noting. 1977's Spiritual Kungfu followed the same basic formula.

In 1978, though, it all boiled over.

In that year, Jackie Chan starred in Drunken Master, directed by Yuen Wo-ping, and Sammo Hung directed and starred in Warriors Two. Kungfu films had been incorporating more and more comedic elements into their goings-on, but these two movies more than anything pushed the whole thing over the edge and gave official birth to the kungfu comedy as we know it today. Drunken Master laid out the formula that would become far and away the most used plot in the subgenre, that of the curmudgeonly old master, the lazy disrespectful student, and their eventual need to work together to defeat some seeming insurmountable evil.

While the plot of Drunken Master may serve as the basis for nearly every kungfu comedy that would follow, it was the mental state of Sammo Hung that would provide the genre with it's dominant tone. Sammo's films have always been possessed of a certain degree of schizophrenia. On more than one occasion, a scene that starts out as a study in slapstick physical comedy will suddenly turn deadly serious and tragic without any warning. I don't pretend to know what goes on in the mind of Sammo Hung, but at least a portion of it is prone to sudden turns of dark moodiness. This split personality approach to a film would become the prevailing mood of most kungfu comedies. In one scene, the madcap hijinks are flying left and right, and in the next scene, with no transition or warning, things become heavy.

In 1979, director Joe Cheung tried his hand at the kungfu comedy with the film Incredible Kungfu Master, starring a well-respected but not well-known martial arts actor by the name of Tung Wei. When last we saw Tung Wei, he was getting slapped on the head by Bruce Lee and lectured about not staring at the finger when you should be marveling at all the heavenly glory. The movie was a bug success, thanks in no small part to the fact that it starred Sammo Hung, who was one of the two hottest properties in the business at the time, possibly the hottest since he was the total package where Jackie Chan was still considered primarily just an actor. Hot on the heels of their success, the Tung Wei - Joe Cheung tried it again with 18 Fatal Strikes, a less successful but still enjoyable entry into the kungfu comedy genre which unfortunately got lost in the shuffle that year since there were roughly ninety-three thousand similar movies made at the same time. Still, the fact that it was a relatively low-key affair adds to its charms, and it stands up well as an example of everything that is good and bad about the genre as a whole.

The story is a study in the kungfu comedy formula. Tung Wei stars as Shou Tung, a lazy bumpkin who whiles away the hours on what appears to be a twig farm with his brother Tai Pei. Tai is played by none other than Shih Tien, whose name may not be familiar but whose face certainly is. The guy was a fixture in damn near every kungfu comedy that got made, usually as some sniveling conniver who taunts the hero endlessly. He is in a slightly different role here, but he still manages to whine a lot. One day while the brothers (or half-brothers, I guess - they have different mothers) are out collecting twigs, or rather while Tai Pei is collecting twigs and Shou Tung is sleeping, they happen across a badly wounded monk who, as we learn in the film's opening scene, is one of the great leaders of the rebellion against the Ch'ing dynasty.

The monk Wang apparently got on the wrong side of Ch'ing heavy Wong Wu Ti, whose utterly bizarre "Shaking Eagle" fist is well nigh invincible, not to mention incredibly annoying. Any time he busts out the style, Wong Wu Ti prefaces it by shaking around like a Bollywood dancer and making a sound not unlike what you hear if you dump a bag full of broken glass on a concrete floor. This in itself isn't so bad, but whoever did the dubbing for this movie makes Wong Wu Ti emit the most grating, ludicrous "whooo hoo wooo aahhh" noises I've ever heard. Kungfu film fans expect goofy noises from dubs, and heck, often from the originals, but I'm hard-pressed to think of a more ludicrous sounding cacophony that what Wong Wu Ti rattles off. I'm guessing that his style is so effective because, upon seeing some dude with long white hair bust out the "shaking my tits with arms wide open" move you expect from your more mundane strippers while he hoots like a total buffoon, even the best trained martial artist doubles over with laughter, thus leaving himself open to a fatal blow from the man acting like a chicken. His style makes the technique and gibberish of Rudy Ray Moore seem subtle and refined by comparison.

Shou Tung takes the monk home while Tai Pei delays searching soldiers. Back in their hovel, Shou Tung engages in a variety of hilarious exchanges in which he looks at the monk, and the monk grimaces and spits blood in his face. Oh, the wackiness! Nothing is funnier than having a dying monk spit blood in your face. What's really odd is that it never occurs to Shou Tung that wiping the blood off might be a good thing. Perhaps he knows that monk is just going to execute the gag again, so there's no real point. This does, however, illustrate one of the key elements in kungfu comedy - that being that the comedy is rarely all that funny. A monk spitting up blood isn't normally considered a source of amusement outside of a Gwar concert, and likewise, many of the situations played for comedic effect in kungfu comedies aren't especially funny. Some of them are downright serious. The comedy doesn't come from the situation, but rather it comes from the reaction. Okay, so a monk spits up blood on someone. Not a big deal. But when that someone reacts by making a silly face while "wah wah wahhhhh" music plays, we're clued in to the fact that this is all supposed to be a reason to chuckle, so chuckle we do.

Most kungfu comedies rely on the mugging of the star and generic comedy music to relay the fact that something funny is going on. Jackie Chan became a true master of mugging for the camera - to the point where it almost became the only thing he was able to do. Plentiful are the scene sin which something would be relatively straight-forward and serious if the star didn't follow it up by making the funny "it's a living!" face while someone dubs in a rim shot or something. 18 Fatal Strikes is no different. Almost all of the comedy is derived not from a funny instance, but from a funny face following an otherwise normal occurrence. Thus, a monk with severe internal bleeding becomes the source of much frivolity.

Another aspect of the comedy in kungfu comedies is that jokes often get driven into the ground. No sooner do we think the whole blood- spitting monk thing has been played out than Tai Pei comes home so he, too, can have blood spit in his face.

Shou Tung and Tai Pei also fulfill the requirements of a hero in a kungfu comedy. Both are interested in the martial arts, but neither is very good. They're too lazy to practice, and as a result, their kungfu is about on par with that of David Carradine. Few and far between are the kungfu comedies devoid of the bumpkin hero, and that's because people like bumpkin heroes. We can laugh at them, but we can also cheer for them. Heck, Shou Tung is basically a farm boy who dreams of fighting in the rebellion and one days meets a wise old master who serves as his teacher. Just call him Luke Skywalker, probably the most famous of all bumpkin heroes. Luke even whines like the bumpkin hero of a kungfu comedy. He wants to go to the Tashi Station to pick up some power converters; Shou Tung wants to go into town to buy some steam buns.

Shou Tung and Tai Pei also fulfill the "odd couple" relationship with their master. Where as the classic films of the 1960s and early 1970s relied on a feudal sense of honor and reverence toward the master on behalf of the student, the students in the comedies of the late 1970s were often far more Monkey King-esque in their relationship with their master. They lie, cheat, and try to scheme their way out of hard training. The master, in return, generally pronounces them as being "goddamned useless!" Heck, the Monkey King even ate his master once! Instead of the traditional code of loyalty, the kungfu comedy takes the hustling capitalist approach to martial arts training. The student will do anything it takes to get ahead.

Such a drastic change in attitude was brought about partly because of the change in the economic situation of real-life martial artists during the 1960s. At the end of the decade, as the wu xia genre waned and the kungfu film had yet to be fully born, a lot of professional martial artists suddenly found themselves falling upon hard times. Interest in the arts waned amongst the public, and what had once been a decent job as a teacher or as an actor suddenly fell apart. Kungfu masters had to adapt, and many of them did so by falling in with triads, by doing what it took for them to survive with the skills they had. It's one of the many factors that contributed to the rise of gangland involvement in the Hong Kong film industry.

When the brothers discover that their favorite lady at the local restaurant is also part of the rebellion, they themselves find their roles becoming increasingly entangled with the political players. This means they suffer some mighty beatings at the hands of Wong Wu Ti's henchmen. Abbot Wang aggress to teach the brothers the eighteen secret styles of the Lo Han fist, Shaolin's greatest fighting technique, although he himself only knows a few of them. I guess they'll just wing the others. Unfortunately, the use of the Lo Han form tips off the bad guys that Shou Tung and Tai Pei are hanging out with the monk. In order to convince them to turn over the rebel leader, Wong Wu Ti's cronies murder Tai Pei's one true love, and then fulfill the "Sammo schizophrenia" even further by murdering Tai Pei himself!

Quite a twist, but it wasn't entirely unexpected. After all, if we continue to look at 18 Fatal Strikes as an example of all the conventions of the kungfu comedy, Shou Tung has to experience a tragic loss that causes him to find the determination to become a great kungfu master in order to seek revenge. Kungfu comedy heroes generally find themselves caught up in situations where they have very little at stake personally. Before meeting the monk, the duo is simply living in their own carefree little world. Sure they know about the ongoing rebellion against the Ch'ing dynasty, but it's not exactly something that affects their lives any more than the Ch'ing dynasty itself affects their lives. Even after meeting Abbot Wang, their relation to the greater forces at work is tangential. It is only when a tragedy befalls one of the characters that resolve is discovered. At that point, however, it is still a personal matter far more than it is a political one. Shou Tung doesn't fight Wong Wu Ti in the name of revolution. He does so out of a desire for personal revenge.

The finale is also a perfect example of what makes the kungfu comedy tick. Up to this point, we've seen very little of Wong Wu Ti other than in the beginning and at a point here and there throughout the film, often doing nothing more than sitting in his fancy throne. Who sells these evil kungfu masters their thrones, anyway? They all seem to have one. In a kungfu comedy, the villain is usually outlandish and, after the student and the teacher, is the most important character despite the fact that he generally has very little screen time. This is done in order to preserve the mystique of the character, to avoid overexposing him to the audience. Wong Wu Ti is much cooler when there is an air of menace and mystery about him. When we do see him, he has a tendency to constantly leave his victims for dead when, in fact, they were just playing possum. How many times is this guy going to fall for that trick?

To draw another parallel to Star Wars, take a look at Boba Fett. That guy does next to nothing in the entire movie, until a blind guy bumps into him and he gets eaten by an immobile hole in the sand. The very fact that he has next to no screen time is what allows the character to maintain the air of being a total bad-ass. The only different is that in kungfu comedies, the villain eventually leaps up in the final scene to prove how tough he is. Boba Fett just screamed like a little girl and fell in a hole. The less we see of Boba Fett, the better off his character is.

Kungfu comedies also exist in a time vacuum. From the first time we meet Wong Wu Ti, to the final frame of the film, we're given no indication about how much time passes. Once the plot is established, everything remains static. The world does not change. By all accounts, the series of events in the film should take years, but it could just as easily take place in a matter of days or weeks. Time is irrelevant. Wong Wu Ti sits in the same garishly lit throne room until it's time for him to go out and die in the final fight scene.

This warp happens partly because of limited budgets. Kungfu comedies are largely character driven, even if those characters are broad clichés, because the limited time, money, and locations available to the average Hong Kong film production were severely limited. You can't track the progress of a countrywide revolution on the back lots of a studio. 18 Fatal Strikes was a decent enough production, thanks no doubt to the success of Incredible Kungfu Master, that they could afford some location shooting for some scenes, but for the most part it was limited in scope. In these circumstances, the characters drive the story, and all other considerations, including historical accuracy or the passage of time, become irrelevant. That's why you can have so many films set during the Ch'ing dynasty but completely devoid of the baldhead and pigtail haircut that was required by law. Some films at least paid lip service to the historical facts by pasting a pigtail onto the end of the star's regular hair, but simply figured that historical details like that were less important than having the actor available to shoot another film a week later that was set in modern times.

Timewise, all that is important to a kungfu comedy are the three stages of the plot. Those stages are the only real way in which the passage of time is handled. Stage one revolves around introducing and establishing the character of the carefree protagonist. Stage two contains a steady build-up of action that builds up the conflict between the hero and the villain. The third stage sees the conflict resolved as it should be: through kungfu fightin'. As long as the film progresses through these stages, the actual duration of events is inconsequential. This is why so many kungfu comedies, 18 Fatal Strikes among them, end almost the very second the hero lands the fatal blow on the villain. That blow was the goal of the entire film, and once it is over, the universe in which the film exists ceases to be.

18 Fatal Strikes is a good example of the kungfu comedy genre because it fulfills all the requirements, showcases the strengths of the formula, and also spotlights the weaknesses. The strengths come primarily from the characters and the action. Tung Wei and Shih Tien are both fabulous in their roles as wisecracking hillbillies thrust into a national political struggle. Although few people seem to talk about him nowadays, Tung Wei was a decent actor and a great martial artist. He's easy to identify with because he's not that big and not that handsome. He's a regular Joe, physically built sort of like me except that where he had six smaller, harder muscles in his abdominal region, I have one larger, softer pillow. He's also an accomplished choreographer, and the fights here are superb. While they may not be up to the lofty standards of Sammo Hung at his best in films like Warriors Two or Prodigal Son, Tung Wei and crew throw together some impressive, fast-paced, hard- hitting action. Except for the whole "Shaking Eagle" style, most of what we get is a fairly straightforward variation of authentic Shaolin forms. That in itself sets 18 Fatal Strikes apart from the larger pack of kungfu comedies, which are full of "Rubbish Fist" and "Happy Style."

Another thing that makes 18 Fatal Strikes a little different is the inclusion of Ms. Sheng, a virtuous and accomplished female fighter. Kungfu comedies are notoriously misogynistic, and women in the films are generally given nothing more than to do than shriek like harpies or be kind and demure up to the time when they get murdered. 18 Fatal Strikes does have the demure girl who gets murdered, but it also has a woman who can hold her own in a fight. While we get to see similar characters in movies like Half a Loaf of Kungfu and the films of Liu Chia- liang, it was still a rarity that a movie was made in the mold that didn't feature a shrew as the lead female.

Aside from that, though, 18 Fatal Strikes is formula kungfu comedy through and through. That isn't necessarily a bad thing, mind you. After all, something becomes a formula because it generally works well. And 18 Fatal Strikes may be flawed, but it's also satisfying and entertaining. It's biggest weakness is indicative of the biggest weakness in all kungfu comedies - the inability to make the comedy work with the seriousness. At his best, Sammo Hung was able to make the two work, even if their coexistence was an often jarring affair. Most directors, however, ended up with an awkward mix of slapstick hijinks and tragic seriousness. 18 Fatal Strikes certainly suffers from this, but not so much that it proves fatal to the film. It's still a problem, though, and in fact it's a problem that continues to plague Hong Kong films to this day. The humor of the film is undercut by the tragic deaths of Tai Pei and his girlfriend, and the emotional impact of such sad events is similarly subverted by all the mugging and hamming that's been going on. The end result simply doesn't mesh together.

Still, you come to expect that from most kungfu comedies, and you can overlook it so long as the movie delivers the goods on other levels. 18 Fatal Strikes does just that. A simple but effective story and top-notch kungfu choreography more than make up for the clumsy handling of humor and tragedy. It's not a classic of the genre, but it's a good workhorse example of what it has to offer. The Monkey King would probably enjoy it.

The evil Wong Wu Ti is a master of the Shaking Eagle’s Claw, and an enforcer for the Ching Army. He and his soldiers seek to crush the underground rebels who refuse to bow to the Manchurians. Wong Wu Ti determines that Abbot Wang is involved with the rebel faction and seeks to eradicate the monk. The Ching soldiers chase Abbot Wang into the hills where Wong Wu Ti awaits. The two masters of the martial arts begin their duel, which turns out to be even sided--until Wong Wu Ti uses his Shaking Eagle Fist technique, that is. Abbot Wang is badly beaten, and wisely decides to escape and fight another day. The soldiers follow to finish him off. Two bumbling young men, Shou Tung (Tung Wei) and Tai Pei (Shih Tien) discover the injured Abbot Wang, and Tai Pei switches clothes with the monk to draw the soldiers away. Then, Shou Tung drags the half-dead monk to safety. When the soldiers catch up with Tai Pei, the kid cons his way out of a massive beating.

Wong Wu Ti’s soldiers show up at a local tavern looking for trouble. Tai Pei enters the tavern to get food, and sees the soldiers harassing a harmless old man. Tai Pei is not tough, but he’s scrappy and has a big mouth which he can’t keep shut. Soon the soldiers turn their attentions to Tai Pei, and begin to batter him unmercifully. Suddenly, the old man’s sexy daughter appears and begins to kick ass on the soldiers beating Tai Pei. After chasing away the soldiers, she thanks him for sticking up for her father and says her name is Ms. Sheng. The soldiers are not through with Ms. Sheng though, as Shou Tung overhears their plot to poison her. He tips her off, and the plan backfires causing the soldiers to imbibe the poison! The other soldiers retaliate and attempt to kill Ms. Sheng, until Shou Tung and Tai Pei lend a hand. In the struggle, they are beaten pretty bad and are led to believe that Ms. Sheng is captured. They return to their home in a devastated mental state, and find that the monk has fully recovered from his injuries, and is practicing Kung Fu. Abbot Wang senses that things are amiss, and offers to train them in the ways of Shaolin Kung Fu. Time passes and both men become fairly skilled fighters.

Meanwhile, Wong Wu Ti lays a trap for the rebel underground. A group of revolutionaries led by Ms. Sheng falls right into the trap. Wong Wu Ti’s soldiers slaughter the revolutionaries and only Ms. Sheng survives the assault because of her martial arts prowess. Shou Tung and Tai Pei arrive to fight the soldiers and allow her to escape. They are stunned to learn that the mysterious Ms. Sheng is a leader of the revolution. Then Wong Wu Ti himself steps forth and uses his Shaking Eagle Claw style to make fools of the duo. After they take an Eagle Claw-style thrashing, Shou Tung returns to home for more training from Abbot Wang while Tai Pei visits the tavern, hoping to catch up with Ms. Sheng. Abbot Wang teaches Shou Tung the Lohan Fist style, which is only form of the martial arts that can over come the Shaking Eagle’s Claw. At the tavern, Tai Pei walks into a trap. Wong Wu Ti toys with Tai Pei while his lead soldier rapes and then stabs Ms. Sheng. After Wong Wu Ti again leaves Tai Pei laying beaten and bruised, he stumbles out of the tavern and drags Ms. Sheng’s body back to his home. Upon their return, Shou Tung vows to seek revenge for the many deaths at the hands of Wong Wu Ti and his soldiers. He trespasses into the imperial palace and challenges a confident Wong Wu Ti. The two men square off, not only for their personal hatred for one another, but for the freedom of the oppressed people of China.

Once again we have a revenge saga, wrapped up in the political intricacies of the Mings versus the Chings. However, much of the dramatic potential is lost due to the constant humor. Granted, some of the humor is funny, but it definitely impacts the momentum of a film that could have been so much more. Joe Cheung is well-suited to handle the comedic tones of 18 FATAL STRIKES, but he is not capable of keeping the drama and fight choreography up to the same level as the humor. This is by no means an affront to the martial arts choreography of Tung Wei, which is well above average, but the fights lack tension and that fight-for-survival feeling. The villain Wong Wu Ti has a bad habit of beating his opponents and leaving them for dead—but none of them are ever seriously hurt, and they always return to plague him again later. The fight choreography really kicks into gear in the last 15 minutes, but the scenes before then are either one-sided or one-dimensional. 18 FATAL STRIKES is also affected by it’s low budget and weak production values. Scenes of the rebels battling the Manchus looks like stock footage from another film, as none of the cast members appear in these shots.

The strong point of 18 FATAL STRIKES is the humor and the characters. The light tone endears the viewer to the righteous characters, namely Shou Tung, Tai Pei, Abbot Wang, and Ms. Sheng. At the beginning of the film, Joe Cheung depicts Shou Tung and Tai Pei as two bumbling con artists whose hearts and mouths are bigger than their biceps. Later as they become embroiled in the Revolution, they endure tremendous beatings at the hands of Wong Wu Ti and his disciples. This demonstrates that these guys are durable and have much potential as martial artists and revolutionaries. They quickly train hard and come up to speed at the prodding of the wise Abbot Wang, another likable character. Much of the humor consists of bodily fluids, such as when an injured Abbot Wang spits up blood into the faces of Shou Tung and Tai Pei for comedic effect. But that is probably the funniest bit in 18 FATAL STRIKES. The film has a strong central antagonist in the form of Wong Wu Ti (who is played by an actor who looks oddly Caucasian). He telegraphs his deadly Eagle Claw strike by puffing out his facial features and shaking like a bird! The confrontation at the finale between Shou Tung and Wong Wu Ti is the highlight of the film, as they battle away with swords and spears.

SIGHT
Joe Cheung filmed 18 FATAL STRIKES in the 2.35.1 aspect ratio. The print utilized by Ground Zero is a heavily cropped 1.33.1 full screen presentation. This print suffers from overscanning, grain, and assorted blemishes, but looks no worse for wear than any Kung Fu film from 1981. The colors are full and natural, though the director doesn’t really employ a varied color spectrum, with the exception of the authentic period outfits worn by the Chings. I have come to accept watching most Kung Fu classics in pan n’ scanned format (as these flawed video masters are all that’s left from a bygone era), and usually most of the fight choreography is kept in the center of the frame, where it can be appreciated. The overscanning in this transfer, however, has the fight choreography all over the place, with the combatants throwing chops and kicks offscreen (and you can’t tell if they connect or not). There is also some horizontal lines and pixelation in the image. And around the reel break, the picture just goes blank for a moment. Though this is a flawed transfer, it’s probably the best its going to look with the source materials on hand. The music videos and other extras on this DVD are a testament to Ground Zero’s ability to present video material with a sharp and colorful luster , so you really can’t fault them for the limitations of the feature presentation.

SOUND
The audio for 18 FATAL STRIKES is Dolby Digital Mono 2.0. The audio for the trailers and music video is Dolby Digital 2.0 Stereo. 18 FATAL STRIKES has a very unusual soundtrack. The sound effects possess a very different inflection than most Kung Fu movies, and are louder than usual to boot. There are some bizarre synthesized ambient sound effects which border on the surreal, such as when Wong Wu Ti ruffles his feathers in preparation of his Shaking Eagle Claw strike. You literally hear chirping and other sounds associated with birds. The English dubbing, too is much different, as many of the voices possess a decidedly goofy Australian drawl. Some of the voices are just plain irritating, especially the voice for Shih Tien. Wang Mao Shan’s score is appropriately historical, with lots of pinging and twanging. Except for some drop outs and slight background noise, the two-channel mono mix for 18 FATAL STRIKES is very good. The Wu Tang Clan music video fares even better with Dolby Digital 2.0 clarity and depth.

FEATURES
The DVD has colorful interactive menus along with mug shots of the Wu Tang Clan superimposed over the cover artwork of Tung Wei. As far as extras go, the disc contains a very brief introduction to 18 FATAL SRIKES by Wu Tang Clan member, Rza. This sequence is full frame and runs 1:06. Then there is a single bonus fight with Tung Wei battling three opponents from an unidentified movie. This sequence is full frame and runs 3.00. There are two trailers for Urban-themed films including BLAZIN (FF, DD 2.0, 1:06), GANGSTRESSES (FF, DD 2.0, 1:06), and one for the Wu Tang Clan collection (FF, DD 2.0, 1:06). This last trailer is merely a commercial for the Wu Tang Clan collection which features music from the Rap group that accompanies shots of all the movies in the series.

CONCLUSION
18 FATAL STRIKES is sure(to please those who enjoy their Kung Fu served up with liberal does of comedy. Except for a big name cast, Joe Cheung brings to 18 FATAL STRIKES what he brought to his earlier hit, THE INCREDIBLE KUNG FU MASTER. Tung Wei’s performance exceeds anything in this uneven production, and he truly deserves to be in a higher caliber film. At the very least, 18 FATAL STRIKES benefits from his fight choreography, though it’s sometimes hard to appreciate in this cropped transfer. 18 FATAL STRIKES is a sure bet for fans of the Wu Tang Clan, who get a music video and interview with the band. But for those who are not into Rap music, there is just not enough of the Clan on this DVD to dissuade Kung Fu fans from picking up this disc. Despite what the packaging indicates, there is no photo galleries or talent bios. But Ground Zero promises to rectify this in future Wu Tang Clan collection DVD releases.

The two are quite proud to have rescued the famous rebel leader, and they go on about their business while the Abbot heals himself in their mountain home. One day while in town, Shou Tung and Tai Pan run afoul of some local thugs, who are pestering the lovely (and secret rebel) Ms. Sheng. Although they prevent the thugs from taking advantage, that is, drugging and raping Ms. Sheng, the two are beat up and return home despondent over their lack of fighting skill. And, in a moment showing the films definite comic leanings, instead of,...oh, I don’t know...asking the Shaolin monk they have living with them to teach them?,... they begin to self train themselves in the front yard, awkwardly attacking each other until the monk finally offers to show them the true way of martial arts. A montage of scenes shows how the Manchu’s are terrorizing the countryside looking for the Abbot while Shou Tung and Tai Pan are being trained. Frustrated with doing nothing but training, the two agree to sneak off into the town, one at a time, to have some fun. Shou Tung is first, and once again, he arrives in the town only to defend Ms. Sheng, this time with his newly acquired martial skills. The thugs and Manchu soldiers recognize the Abbot’s ‘Low Hand Fist’ style being used by Shou Tung, and instantly expect his being allied with the monk. Knowing this, Eagle Claw draws closer, both Shou Tung and Tai Pan find their skills tested, and there are some rather tragic plot twists before the finale. Since the Low Hand Fist Style is no match, how will the Abbot and Shou Tung be able to defeat the dreaded Shaking Evil Claw style? Lets just say, the borrow a page from the Jimmy Wang Yu -“If you cant beat them with skill, beat them with booby traps”- Handbook, in a great ten minute fight scene finale.

18 Fatal Strikes (1980) is a really good classic kung fu movie. It has a decent story, villain, lead characters, and is well paced with numerous good fights and nice stuntwork. Stars, Tung Wei (who plays Shou Tung, actor in Incredible Kung Fu Mission & Golden Mask and action director of 18 Fatal Strikes as well as Twin Dragons, Peacock King, and Accidental Spy) and Shia Tein (who plays Tai Pan, a veteran character in tons of films like Drunken Master & Snake in the Eagles Shadow) are a amiable pair of leads, with Tung Wei being the handsome fighter, and Shia Tein the comedic fool... However, what keeps Fatal Strikes being just good instead of great are a few minor flaws. The film is primary comedic for about the first two-thirds, with the usual wacky HK facial grimacing, wordplay, and black humor (like how both Shou Tung and Tai Pan keep excitedly patting the wounded Abbot on the back, making him cough up blood). But, then, the film takes a strange turn and gets unexpectedly dark, violent, and dramatic for the remainder of the movie, which is just a very odd, jarring shift in tone. Also, this is one of those films that have the main guys train for about a day or a week, and suddenly they are kung fu masters. The training scenes are very short, not very elaborate, but in his next fight, Shou Tung is expertly handling double broadswords while taking on a group of spear wielding guards. All this, despite the fact that he had no weapons at the farm where the Abbot was training him. It is the kind of narrative error that makes you realize just how beautiful a film like The 36th Chamber of Shaolin is, with its lengthy training sequences establishing the character and skills. And, on one final note, the dubbing on Eagle Claw is ridiculously overdone, with perhaps the worst generic “WOOOO-AHHHH!!!” vocalizations I’ve ever heard in a kung fu film. Still, despite its flaws, it is an entertaining feature, just not perfect or a classic.

THE DVD:
The very first Ground Zero-Wu Tang DVD release, far from eye-popping, but acceptable for those who still remember the days of UHF Kung Fu Theater on TV and washed out vhs at the video store. Picture- The fullscreen picture shows your average amount of wear for an old kung fu film, particularly in some annoying horizontal white lines/scratches that pop up throughout most of the film. Overall though, the picture has strong color and sharpness, and at a budget price, should be a nice buy for the chop socky fan. Also, in the 48 min mark, the picture appears to drop-off (and I don’t mean layer change drop-off) into black for a few seconds before returning. Sound- 2.0 mono, English dub with some slight distortions, but overall nice, with the reverb heavy fight fx blaring through your speakers. Extras- One of Ground Zero-Wu Tang’s more barebones titles, before Ground Zeros Hidden Chambers Collection got rolling. 14 Chapters. Bonus Fight Scene, lasting 3 mins, film unspecified. Wu Tang music video. Rza film intro, and trailers to Gangstresses, Blazin’, and a commercial for Ground Zeros Kung Fu Classics.