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

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

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

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

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

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

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

While not a straight remake, the film takes elements from the original Wang Yu story and crafts them into something that is altogether much darker than the kung fu movies of the same decade. The film is quite bleak in its portrayal of a mediaeval Chinese community plagued by bandits. This is one of the things that sets the film apart and is just another example of Tsui Harks ability to bring fresh ideas to the mix to develop an original vision.

Chiu Man Cheuk has often been criticised for his limited acting ability but is perfectly competent here and it would be hard to imagine anyone that would have been more suitable for the role; he just is 'On'. Hung Yan Yan also makes the perfect villain and this is without a doubt his best performance, certainly one that I've seen that's given him the most opportunity to show his acting ability.

The fight scenes are simply breathtaking. They don't give the viewer much opportunity to see flashy techniques, rather they are much more gritty and realistic with occasional flurries but its just the whole combination of editing, camerawork and, obviously, martial arts ability. Tsui Hark created a very striking vision that is quite unique. Sadly he felt the need for undercranking, especially pronounced in the final reel, but even this can't detract from the overall effect of the fierce battles that are waged. Its not just about martial arts as Tsui manages to inject an emotional kick especially in the cornerstone fight that comes about an hour into the film; it still makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The final duel between Chiu Man Cheuk and Hung Yan Yan is simply an exhilarating piece of film making and, in my humble opinion, was the last great fight scene of the nineties (can't think of another that topped it afterwards). This is still Chiu Man Cheuk's best film by far and quite unmissable.

The result is a highly stylized treatise on life and suffering, a surreal film where the ghosts of one's past can be deadlier than any kung fu master and where honor and virtue are almost always swallowed up by violence and madness.

Hark wastes no time in preparing us for the brutality of his film's world. In one of the first scenes, a group of bandits trick a dog into stepping in a trap. While it howls in pain and tries to get free, the men laugh in cruel joy. It's immediately reminiscent of "The Wild Bunch", which opens with a group of children torturing a scorpion with ants before setting the whole bunch on fire. Like Peckinpah, Hark's world is far darker and dirtier than normally seen in other kung fu movies. You can almost smell the sweat, filth, and grime that coat the film's scenes. No pristine Shaolin temples are anywhere to be found, and those with any shred of virtue are either killed or immediately forced into savagery to survive.

On (Man Cheuk Chiu, a.k.a. Vincent Zhao) and Iron Head (Moses Chan) work as apprentices at Sharp Foundry, which is renowned for its swords. On is quiet and reserved, whereas Iron Head has a furious temper that often gets both of them in trouble. Their relationship is strained by the antics of Ling, the foundry owner's daughter (and also the film's narrator). Ling is determined to start a rivalry between the two men for her affections, and plays the two against each other. The announcement that On will be the foundry's heir just worsens the situation between the two men.

Meanwhile, vicious bandits roam the countryside, terrorizing anyone they please. Iron Head wants to use the foundry's swords to put an end to the rampage, and knows that as the new master, On will be too passive and weak. Then comes the revelation that On's father was murdered by a mysterious and powerful swordsman. On sets out to avenge his father's death, with Ling in hot pursuit. When the bandits capture Ling, On rescues her, but loses his right arm and gets thrown off a cliff in the process.

Presumed dead, On wakes up in the hut of a strange woman named Blackie (presumably because she's that dirty). His only link to the past is his father's broken sword, which he buries when he realizes that, armless, he's unable to carry out any vengeance. Instead, he resolves to live in peace with Blackie. But, as these things go, the bandits don't stay away for too long. After their house is burned down, Blackie finds a hidden book on martial arts. On tries to learn from it, but instead develops an unorthodox style of fighting to compensate for his severed arm and shattered weapon.

Technically, the film follows the same plot cycle of most kung fu films. It's easy to map out the storyline within the first 10 minutes. But within that structure, Hark inserts a sense of madness and pain, of lostness, that is almost palpable. Rendered through Hark's camera, "The Blade"'s world is often nightmarish, especially when Hark lets loose with all of his little stylistic embellishments. Hark's camera is all over the place, disorienting the viewer and further cementing a sense of insanity.

The action lacks any sense of grace and finesse, but rather becomes swift and disturbing. They lack the flair and flash (not to mention Jet Li) of the "Once Upon A Time In China" series and their realistic (and often clumsy and brutish) physicality is a complete 180 from the effects-laden "Zu". At times, the fights become unbearable to watch, not due to gore (though there is plenty of that), but by their sheer craziness.

The closest contemporary I can think of is Wong Kar-Wai's surreal wuxia film, "Ashes Of Time". Both films mine similar subject matter; the subject of trying to live in peace with the past is a central theme. On tries to deal with the knowledge of his father's true past, and responds with vengeance and resourcefulness. Ling must live with her ghosts, literally, as she grows increasingly unable to deal with the violence of the world around her and the weight of the lives she's damaged. Unfortunately, she's not so successful. The film's final image, that of an older Ling living inside the abandoned foundry and imagining On and Iron Head's visits with the help of opium may be the film's most tragic shot.

The concept of violence begetting violence is another theme, as is the realization that sometimes those cycles cannot be broken, regardless of how much you long for a peaceful life. In this regard, I'm also reminded of Clint Eastwood's "Unforgiven", another film that takes a genre's basic concepts and creates a signature film for said genre. Not the most enjoyable or most successful, but one where a genre's themes are seen in as raw and perfect a form as possible.

However, I hesitate at calling "The Blade" brilliant for no other reason than being unorthodox or challenging to the viewer. However, I did feel like I was honestly watching something unique and special with this film. Unlike some kung fu movies, "The Blade" is completely unswerving in its focus. No comedic relief, no silly sidekicks, and no needless romanticism, flaws that often seem to plague otherwise great films. For me, that shows a lot of confidence by the filmmaker in his subject matter. It's also an interesting counterpoint to the more commercially viable films that Hark has made, not to mention his work with Jean-Claude Van Damme.

Regardless of how unremitting the film gets at times, how violent and maddening it is much of the time, "The Blade" is a brutally honest and intense film. Not the best film for a newbie, but for diehards, it offers something very fresh and insightful into our favorite of genres.