| In 1979, with his first film, Tsui Hark would lay the foundation for much of his career. He was born in Saigon, raised in Hong Kong, and studied film at the University of Texas, in Austin. Tsui cultivated a deep appreciation for world cinema, and learned his craft ad hoc from different directors, utilizing different styles, from all around the globe. Tsui's generation of filmmakers is one of the first to grow up totally devouring media in all of its capacity, and like a sponge, Tsui soaked up everything he watched, read, and heard. Because of his broad appreciation for world cinema, Tsui offered a unique “outsider's” perspective on Hong Kong cinema. Upon his return to Hong Kong, and after a job directing costume-dramas for television, Tsui became the spearhead for the New Wave movement, a movement of young Hongkie filmmakers wanting to elevate their craft while telling stories in ways unique to the Hong Kong people.
Even though The Butterfly Murders is a martial arts film, or wuxia pian, it is drastically different from those made earlier by Chang Cheh, or by King Hu, one of Tsui's biggest influences. First of all, the film contains within it a kind of meta-narrative, one that portrays the common themes and tropes of the genre while also commenting on its conventions. The story is mainly shown from the POV of a reporter, or novelist, called Fong. Fong is a famous writer, one that travels the land chronicling the lives and times of the people; he is both a bard and an early journalist.
With characters aware of the martial world, and aware of the myth and legend surrounding it, Tsui's film offers a post-modern take on a genre mired in strict traditional themes. Through voice over, we hear Fong declare that, “It is the beginning of a new era of martial arts.” It is with these words that we know something different is underway, in both the film's world and in ours. Being a writer, and not a martial artist, Fong is an outsider to the jiang hu, and it is through his eyes that we are drawn into the underworld of martial heroes, criminal masterminds, strange, almost supernatural technology, and superstition. Fong's character mirrors that of Tsui Hark's own “outsider's” perspective, and is used to craft a personal meta-narrative within a somewhat typical wuxia story.
The narrative is not the only thing that separates The Butterfly Murders from the earlier films in the genre. From the first frame of the film, it is clear that we are no longer being lead by the Shaw Brothers, or the old guard, through the world of martial arts. By breaking free of the familiar sound stages and cliche settings typical to the genre, Tsui's film feels more open, more fantastic, more alien. Gone are the typical tea houses, inns, and decrepit shacks inhabited by old kung fu masters. Also missing are the streets, crowded with merchants, beggars, and street performers. The film's setting feels otherworldly, and yet it still maintains a distinct Chinese atmosphere. Like Patrick Tam's The Sword, another New Wave wuxia pian, The Butterfly Murders is set in a phantasmal limbo, its world is one breaking free of the old, on the cusp of something new.
Another new twist on the genre is how Tsui explains away the seemingly supernatural powers of the martial arts masters. Powers such as iron skin, exploding palm technique, and the power of flight, are often found in other wuxia films, and these powers are typically generated through the focus of one's inner spirit, or “chi,” or through extensive physical and mental training. In Tsui's film, these “powers” are birthed from technology, and from gadgetry. The power of iron skin is nothing more than a special kind of man-made armor; the exploding palm technique is made with gun powder and chemical explosions; the power of flight is granted through the crafty use of a mechanized grappling hook. In many ways, Tsui strips away the mystic element of the genre and infuses it with ideas more similar to science-fiction.
With new ways of explaining the combatants' powers came new ways of filming the action. While directors like Lau Kar Leung and Chang Cheh were perfecting precise, detailed fight instruction that relied more and more on the actual skills of the performers, Tsui took his action choreography in an entirely different direction. While the old school was more interested in crafting fights that featured long, unedited, uninterrupted exchanges between the combatants, Tsui's way was more comic-book in nature. Each precise move was executed and filmed on its own, in its own “panel” if you will, and then edited together to form a sequence of fluid movement. While Tsui was not the first to use such a technique, he did elevate it to an almost absurd level. By using meticulously edited montage, Tsui's action suggests the movement rather than showing it out right. The action set pieces in The Butterfly Murders feel chaotic and dangerous, a trait that would continue throughout his career.
Although The Butterfly Murders failed to gain recognition at the box office, in hindsight, it is considered an important film, and an interesting piece of a genre-puzzle. If anything, I think the film was too ambitious for its time, and I think Tsui Hark wanted to include too many changes for one film to hold. This is often a problem with Tsui's films - they are simply stuffed beyond capacity with creativity and inventive direction, often in exchange for cohesive narratives not dependent on the audience's ability to make massive leaps in logic. In this regard, the film's foundation, upon which Tsui would build his career, possesses both positive and negative aspects. By tracing the genre back, it is quite easy to see the impact Tsui's film had on its themes, its characters, and its cinematic techniques, and while not all of the influence helped to make films better, the good is just too good to dismiss. |