To Save and Project ’16: Legend of the Mountain

It was the biggest drum battle since Chick Webb faced off against Gene Krupa and the rest of the Goodman orchestra. When a demon and a Buddhist lama join engage in combat, their weapon of choice is the hand drum. The resulting percussion further disorients her profoundly confused newlywed scholar husband in King Hu’s freshly restored classic 1979 supernatural epic, Legend of the Mountain (trailer here), which screens during the 2016 edition of MoMA’s To Save and Project.

Ho Qingyun is an underachieving scholar who agrees to painstakingly copy a Buddhist sutra solely for the money. He did not believe in anything otherworldly before he accepted this gig, but that will soon change. While in transit from monastery to monastery he stops in a sparsely populated village that effectively became a demilitarized zone after an unfortunate uprising and an armistice that was even more embarrassing for the Imperial government.

Advisor Tsui is still on duty, but he is probably not a good influence on Ho. After a heavy night of drinking, the scholar wakes to find he has promised to marry Melody, whose drumming combined with the booze really did a number on poor Ho. However, since she is played Hsu Feng, the scholar is prepared to make good on his commitments. She also happens to be a demon, but he does not know that yet.

Shortly thereafter, Advisor Tsui takes Ho out for drinks at the local inn, where he meets the proprietor’s daughter, Cloud. She too makes a strong impression, but she also has her own supernatural secrets. Everyone does in the mountain village (practically and perhaps literally a ghost town), but nobody is telling Ho anything. Even the Buddhist lama who will challenge Melody’s powers of hypnotic percussion and his ally, the Taoist priest keep Ho in the dark.

Although Legend is a story of ghosts and demons (inspired by Pu Songling’s Stories from a Chinese Studio) rather than a rousing wuxia epic, all the King Hu hallmarks are present and accounted for. The restoration looks phenomenal, which allows viewers to soak in his stunning mountain vistas and dramatic wide-angle god’s eye perspectives. This is a big picture in every way, including the three-hour running time. Yet, Hu turns around a stages intimate scenes of comic farce worthy of Blake Edwards.

As usual, Hu repertory player Shih Chun is pitch-perfect, making Ho a guileless comic foil, but not a shticky caricature. Hsu Feng commands the screen as Melody, playing the demonic femme fatale to the hilt. It is also remarkable to watch the young and arresting Sylvia Chang making her mark as Cloud, especially knowing how she would shatter glass ceilings in the HK film industry as a director and screenwriter (for both her own vehicles and often for films reflecting male perspectives). This is a significant early role in an altogether remarkable career.

It seems self-evident in the post-Crouching Tiger era, but Hu was one of the first filmmakers who made snobby cineastes understand a film could be high art and also kick a lot of butt. You could think of Legend as the Chinese ghost story Washington Irving never wrote (it even starts with Ho dozing off in a mountain gazebo). Highly recommended for fans of HK/Taiwanese historical epics of any genre, Hu’s restored director’s cut of Legend of the Mountain screens again this Wednesday (11/9), as part of MoMA’s annual To Save and Project film restoration series.

King Hu’s Dragon Inn

It is one of the most famous lodging house in motion picture history—and also one of the most remote. It was not a particularly comfortable place to stay, but not due to any shortcomings of the staff. Rather, it is the large party of Eastern Chamber agents loyal to the tyrannical Eunuch Cao Shaoqin quartered there that makes the place feel so inhospitable. When a handful of principled adventurers check in there is bound to be conflict in King Hu’s digitally-restored wuxia smash hit Dragon Inn (trailer here), which re-releases this Friday in New York.

Having consolidated his power behind the throne, in a virtual coup d’état, Cao executed the honorable defense minister Yu Qian and banished his children to the hinterlands. Belatedly realizing the long term potential danger they represent, Cao dispatches agents to assassinate the Yu children. After one attempt fails, Cao sends his top commander Miao Tian to head them off at the pass—or more accurately the inn at the pass.

However, unbeknownst to Cao, Dragon Inn is owned by Wu Ning, Gen. Yu’s former aide-de-camp. As luck would have it, Wu’s insouciant swordsman friend Hsiao Shao-tzu choses to pay a visit at precisely this time. He takes an instant dislike to Miao’s men, possibly because one of them tries to poison him. When Miss Chu Huei, a lethal swordswoman traveling in the guise of a man with her slightly oafish brother shows up, it further complicates matters. Hsiao does not get on well with the brother, but he has instant rapport with the sister. Together, the ad-hoc band of virtuous swashbucklers will face the full force of the of the Eastern Chamber. Yes, it is definitely on.

The broad strokes of Dragon Inn will sound familiar to those who have seen Raymond Lee’s Tsui Hark-produced remake [New] Dragon Inn or Tsui’s own sequel/remake/reboot/riff The Flying Swords of Dragon Gate. Yet as soon as Hu’s Dragon Inn starts viewers can immediately tell it has the air of a classic. Action director Han Ying-chieh (who also appears as Miao’s lieutenant) stages some massive melees, but also integrates humor into the earlier fight sequences in ways that are clever rather than slapsticky.

If you watch Hu’s freshly restored Dragon Inn and A Touch of Zen in relatively short succession, Shih Chun is likely to become your new favorite actor. He has been choosy about movie projects over the last three or four decades, but he remains a revered figure in Taiwanese cinema. As Hsiao, he is wildly cool and roguishly charismatic. Some consider his portrayal a deliberate attempt to create an Asian alternative to James Bond, which seems like a bit of a stretch.

Regardless, he certainly inspires confidence and forges some relatively subtle but undeniably potent chemistry with Polly Shang-kuan Ling-feng’s Chu. Although still just a teenager, Shang-kuan exhibits impressive action chops that she would further refine as a martial art star in her own right. To counterbalance them, Bai Ying gives a suitably ostentatious yet weirdly twitchy performance as the villainous Cao.

Dragon Inn features the tragic sweep and striking natural vistas that became hallmarks of Hu’s later films, but it is also loads and loads of fun. With it and A Touch of Zen, Hu created the templates for a whole lot of Wuxia to come. It is definitely a masterwork bordering on outright masterpiece status. Very highly recommended, Dragon Inn opens this Friday (5/6) in New York, at the Walter Reade.

King Hu’s A Touch of Zen

Never pick a fight with a Buddhist abbot on the brink of enlightenment, especially if he is played by Roy Chiao. That would necessarily mean you are the evil one, since his virtue is plain as the rays of righteousness emanating from him. Of course, Abbot Hui Yuan has largely forsaken worldly matters, but the agents of the evil Eunuch Wei are perversely determined to involve the master of masters. Wuxia spectacle reaches the highest levels of art and spirituality in King Hu’s masterpiece, A Touch of Zen (trailer here), which re-releases in its complete, 4K restored glory this Friday at Film Forum.

The story of Zen’s tempestuous, years-in-the-making production and initially hacked-up, Weinsteinized release is an epic in itself. It was not until a nearly complete cut won universal acclaim and the grand technical prize at the 1975 Cannes Film Festival that Hu’s producers realized they had something special on their hands. Years later, Zen’s influence would continue to be felt in films like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and House of Flying Dragons.

Yet, it all starts in an unassuming manner in a sleepy provincial village, where the unmarried scholar-artist Gu Shengzhai’s lack of ambition drives his mother to distraction. One day, a stranger in town agrees to sit for a portrait, apparently as a way to prime Gu for local information and possibly kill some time. When Gu starts to follow the mysterious Ouyang Nian, he soon detects the outsider’s interest in three recent arrivals in town: the new doctor, a maybe not so blind fortune teller, and Yang Hui-ching, the destitute beauty squatting with her mother in the ramshackle Jinglu Fort next door.

Although the marriage proposal suggested by Gu’s mother is rebuffed, he and Yang still become close. In fact, her rejection is mostly to protect the naïve scholar. She is the last of a once great family decimated by Wei’s agents in the Eastern Chamber. She has gone into hiding, with only the loyal Generals Shih and Lu for protection. However, Yang is perfectly capable of taking care of herself under ordinary circumstances. That was one of the benefits of her time living under Abbot Hui’s protection. Of course, Hui is no longer inclined to involve himself in such fleeting terrestrial concerns, but when the vicious Chief Commander Hsu Hsien-chen arrives to re-establish Wei’s authority, all bets are off.

Zen is the granddaddy of all modern Wuxia films and the starting point for any discussion of Buddhist-themed cinema. Structurally, it also has a distinctive flow, allowing characters to crest and fall in relatively importance, while still proceeding in a logical fashion from point A to B and on to C. There are also some massively cinematic martial arts sequences, co-choreographed by Hu regular Han Ying-chieh and Hua Hui-ying.

Along the way, Gu evolves from a rather callow coward into the strategist who masterminds their temporary victories of the Eastern Chamber. Shih Chun is well-suited to Gu’s arc, nicely playing him with relaxed silliness in the early going and cerebral intensity down the stretch. Feng Hsu shows the dazzling action chops and slow-burning presence that made her Hu’s go-to heroine throughout the 1970s. Han is also wonderfully devious as the wicked Commander Hsu. Fans should also keep on the lookout during his scenes for a younger, svelter Master Sammo Hung, appearing as one of the villain’s two sons. However, there is no question Roy Chiao takes command of the film and elevates it into the stratosphere with his performance as Abbot Hui. It takes serious gravitas to reach nirvana on-screen, but he and Hu pull it off right before our eyes.

Zen does not feel like a three-hour film, even though Hu often takes his time to deliberately set the scene and marvel at the surrounding natural vistas. As a result, we really get a sense of the place and the era in which these characters live (and die). Forty-five years after it was more-or-less completed, A Touch of Zen still ranks as one of the most beautiful action films ever made. Very highly recommended, it opens this Friday (4/22) at Film Forum.

King Hu at BAM: Raining in the Mountain

It is a temple, not an inn, but the principles are the same for King Hu. A motley cast of characters have duly assembled to hunt for a precious scroll and influence the succession at Three Treasures Temple. Worldly greed and ambition will clash on sacred ground in King Hu’s Raining in the Mountain, which screens during BAM Cinématek’s retrospective, All Hail the King: the Films of King Hu.

Esquire Wen is a man of means, who has faithfully supported the temple, but he is also a crooked operator, who would prefer to acquire the temple’s priceless Tripitaki scroll as cheaply and dishonestly as possible. To that end, he has retained the services of the notorious thief White Fox to masquerade as his concubine while she cases the joint. Conveniently, the Abbott has requested his presence to offer counsel while he chooses his successor.

However, Wen is not the only double-dealing guest. General Wang Chi is also staying at the temple for the same ostensive and covert reasons. His chief enforcer is the former brigand turned corrupt cop Chang Chen, who had railroaded the temple’s newest acolyte, Chiu Ming on bogus charges. At least the Abbott can trust the counsel of revered layman Wu Wai, who arrives with entourage of beautiful women, because he is already beyond such earthly concerns (but from a cinematic standpoint, it is quite considerate of him).

There is plenty of action in Mountain, but Hu saves most of the martial arts for the climax. Instead, he treats viewers to a feast of acrobatic sneaking around, which looks absolutely fantastic in and about the striking temple setting. It is a huge place, but White Fox and company duck in and out of every alcove and cranny. Hu served as his own art director on Mountain, crafting a wonderfully elegant, richly appointed widescreen-friendly period production.

Mountain is an absolute blast for wuxia fans, thanks to the half-roguish, half-heroic nature of Wen’s party. They are inclined to do the right thing and help Chiu Ming, provided nobody is watching and it will not interfere with their own plans. Nevertheless, there is still plenty of tragedy and irony in the mix, clearly informed by Buddhist religious traditions.

Hu regular Hsu Feng dazzles as White Fox, another woman of great action. Yet, for sheer mischievous glee, it is hard to match Suen Yuet as Wan, the scheming anti-hero. In contrast, Tung Lam’s salt-of-the-earth Chiu Ming has an acutely earnest and forgiving presence, who delivers the film’s Buddhist teachings with credibility.

This is a great film, partly because there are so many contradictory facets to its personality that nonetheless fit together perfectly. It is briskly paced, but increasingly deep and meaningful. Very highly recommended, Raining in the Mountain is a terrific way to conclude All Hail the King when it screens this Tuesday (6/17) at BAM.

King Hu at BAM: The Fate of Lee Khan

The Spring Inn is a lot like Rick’s in Casablanca. Nobody is shocked to find gambling there, while the resistance rubs shoulders with the occupiers. King Hu appreciated the dramatic possibilities of a nice isolated inn, setting three of his classic films within such seedy establishments. Fittingly, The Fate of Lee Khan, the third and least widely seen of his so-called “Inn Trilogy,” screens during the BAM Cinématek’s retrospective, All Hail the King: the Films of King Hu.

Ever since she set up a dice table, “Wendy” Wan Jen-mi’s Spring Inn has crushed the business of her closest competitor. He does not mind, though, because he is her superior in the underground opposition to the Mongols. From him she receives advance warning the dreaded warlord Lee Khan will soon be staying at her inn. The ruthless prince has intercepted a strategically important map from their compatriots, so Wan must steal it back. She has just the right staff for the job: four reformed criminals now working as waitresses. Additional back-up arrives in the form of lowly scholar Wang Shih-cheng and troubadour Sha Yuan-shan, who masquerade as Wan’s bookkeeper cousin and his servant.

After a fair amount of carousing with the rustic locals, the scene is sufficiently set for Lee Khan’s arrival and the fighting chops of former pickpocket Hai Mu-tan are thoroughly established. With the inn closed to all except the staff and the Mongol entourage, the sneaking around begins in earnest.

Frankly, Fate leans more towards intrigue than adrenaline-charged smack-downs, but action director Sammo Hung still blocked out some nice sequences to showcase his good friend Angela Mao. Even though it is a supporting part, nobody can miss the star power she brings to bear as Hai. As Wendy, Li Hua-li is hardly anyone’s push over either. In fact, the five women of Spring Inn vividly demonstrate Hu’s facility for strong “nuxia” swordswomen characters.

One of the strangest aspects of Fate is Lee Khan himself. Feng Tien’s portrayal is not so very far removed from Conrad Veidt’s Maj. Strasser in Casablanca, oozing cunning and malevolence. Yet, everything he says, such as officials should live close to the citizens they govern and should hire the most qualified scholars regardless of ethnicity, makes a good deal of sense. In fact, it sounds downright progressive for the era. Nonetheless, he is still the bad guy.

Featuring characters as colorful as their costumes, The Fate of Lee Khan is a fast-paced comedic-tragedy that should fully satisfy wuxia connoisseurs. It is important both as part of Hu’s thematic trilogy and a relatively early turn from Mao (shortly following Enter the Dragon and Hapkido), but because life is not fair, it is hard to find a watchable print with English subtitles and the original Mandarin dialogue. Since BAM will screen it this Sunday (6/15) as it should be seen, it ought to be a high priority for Hu and Mao fans during the All Hail the King retrospective, now underway in Brooklyn.

King Hu at BAM: The Valiant Ones

It was a chaotic time during the Ming Dynasty, when the coastal provinces were like the Gulf of Aden. Japanese ronin were the Somali pirates of their day, raping and pillaging with impunity, thanks to the corruption of local officials. However, there is a new sheriff in town and he brought two spectacularly skilled deputies. They will take the fight directly to the pirates in King Hu’s The Valiant Ones, which screens during BAM Cinématek’s retrospective, All Hail the King: the Films of King Hu.

Frankly, many in court are hoping Yu Da-you will fail in his imperial assignment to subdue the pirates terrorizing coastal villages. After all, he has a reputation for integrity, just like his inconvenient father. He also has Wu Ji-yuan, a master swordsman, and his wife Wu Re-shi, who happens to be a particularly lethal archer. The bad guys will launch a preemptive attack on Yu, but they are no match for the Wus’ chops. With the reluctant help of a crooked prosecutor busted dead to rights, Yu’s lieutenants will infiltrate the pirates’ lair, posing as mercenaries looking to sign on. Their talents will impress, in more ways than one.

In terms of narrative structure, Valiant is pretty straight forward, marching from point to point in an orderly fashion. However, Hu’s striking seascape vistas give it an epic, widescreen vibe. He also lays down some incredible action sequences choreographed by the then little known Sammo Hung. Arguably, the climatic showdown is a true wuxia landmark, distinguished by feats that defy gravity and evoke classical tragedy.

Granted, Bai Ying and Hsu Feng do not cover an especially wide dramatic range as Wu Ji-yuan and Re-shi, respectively, but they have the moves and the presence. Roy Chiao has a steely Picard-ish air of command as the upright Yu, but Hung’s flamboyant turn as the pirate chieftain, Hakatatsu, seems to be looking for ways to be problematic. Nevertheless, his fight direction is terrifically stylish and camera-friendly.

Valiant is another great example of a strong, resourceful action heroine, presented by Hu in a rather matter-of-fact manner. Both Wu Re-shi and her husband are also highly mortal action figures (although you might not get that impression from a few scenes, if seen in isolation). It is all good stuff, especially well suited to viewing on the big screen. Recommended for wuxia fans who want to see dead pirates piling up and cineaste admirers of Hu’s artistry, The Valiant Ones screens this Friday (6/13) during the All Hail the King retrospective at BAM.

King Hu at BAM: Painted Skin

Somehow, they are both based on Pu Songling’s short stories, but you would be hard pressed to find many similarities between King Hu’s final film and the smash hit Chinese cinema and television franchise of the same name. At least the casting made sense when Zhou Xun succeeded Joey Wong as the supernatural femme fatale with the detachable face. A foolish scholar will get more than he bargained for when he takes in a mystery woman in King Hu’s Painted Skin, which screens during BAM Cinématek’s retrospective, All Hail the King: the Films of King Hu.

Wang Hsi-tzu realizes he might have stayed out too late drinking when he starts seeing strange spectral visions on his way home. Nevertheless, he gets a sudden dose of courage when he encounters You Feng. Moved by claims she was badly abused by her husband’s first wife, Wang takes her into his household, much to the annoyance of his own wife. He may have yet to pass an imperial exam, but even Wang quickly realizes there is something a little off about You.

When confronted by a charm provided by two Taoist priests, You admits she is a ghost, trapped between worlds and held in thrall to the King of Yin and Yang. Half ghost, half man, the evil king commands a death cult of similarly in-between spirits. To escape his power, You will need more help than Wang can provide, she sets off in the company of the two priests, to find a legendary high priest, living a hermit like existence tending peach trees.

Without question, the first third of Painted is by far the most effective. Hu defty creates an eerie nocturnal atmosphere and a metaphysically scary villain. In contrast, the subsequent fantasy quest sequences feel more conventional, even though he nicely conveys the notion that the conflict is joined on both physical and spiritual levels. Still, the conclusion is quite redemptive, in every sense.

Granted, Wong does not have the strongest reputation as a thesp, but when it comes to looking like a doe-eyed lost little girl, she was tough to beat. Likewise, Wang is a great role for Adam Cheng, giving him license to ham it up in two directions. Even though his scenes do not have as much pop, there is no denying Sammo Hung has the appropriate heft, so to speak, for the high priest.

Painted Skin is a relatively minor entry in Hu’s filmography, but it is still a consistently entertaining supernatural wuxia fusion. Indeed, many of his prestigious filmmaker colleagues have ended their careers on weaker codas. Recommended as a ghostly outing in its own right and indispensible for BAM’s retrospective, Painted Skin screens this coming Tuesday (6/10) in Brooklyn, as part of the perfectly named All Hail the King film series.

King Hu at BAM: Come Drink with Me

With the release of ScarJo’s Lucy looming, we can expect the publicity campaign to wax rhapsodic about the significance of a female action hero. Of course, Michelle Yeoh has been kicking butt and carrying action films for decades. So has Angela Mao. Cheng Pei-pei also did it before Johansson and did it far better in King Hu’s Shaw Brothers classic, Come Drink with Me (trailer here), which screens during BAM Cinématek’s retrospective, All Hail the King: the Films of King Hu.

Drink would be Hu’s definitive film for legendary producer Run Run Shaw, but also his last. Furthermore, it introduces the first of Hu’s many strong woman protagonists: Golden Swallow, the daughter of the scrupulously just provincial governor. A gang of outlaws has abducted her brother, expecting to exchange her for a colleague due to be executed for his crimes. Instead, the old man dispatches Golden Swallow to recover her brother and dispense some justice.

Kind of-sort of disguised as a man, Golden Swallow marches into the bandit’s favorite tavern, looking for trouble. They try to oblige, but she far outclasses mere henchmen. Needless to say, they vow to return, with their boss, Jade-Faced Tiger to continue the “negotiations.” To make things fairer, she will make a secret ally in Drunken Cat, the local lush, who is considerably more dangerous than his easygoing façade would suggest.

Come Drink is hardly the most complex wuxia story ever filmed, but it delivers several striking action sequences. Indeed, the fight scenes are vintage Hu, as deeply influenced by ballet as martial arts. It is not hard to gather why Golden Swallow’s exploits are often identified as a forerunner to Ang Lee’s Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. It is also easy to see how it launched Cheng Pei-pei to overnight superstardom. She has poise, presence, and all kind of moves. (It is hard to fathom mistaking her for a man, but that is a genre convention we just have to go along with.) Even though he sings and clowns as Drunken Cat, Yueh Hua more than holds up his end, bringing to mind Donnie Yen with his earnestly likable badassery.

In fact, there is something appealing about Golden Sparrow being her family’s designated action figure. She is impressive, but not super-heroic. Both she and Drunken Cat have their physical and emotional vulnerabilities, but they demonstrate humanist virtues as well.

Thanks to Hu’s mystical trappings and striking backdrops, Come Drink With Me easily ranks amongst the higher end of Shaw Brothers productions. Nor can anyone argue with Cheng’s iconic work as Golden Swallow. A briskly paced tale of good versus the corrupt, Come Drink With Me is a film all wuxia connoisseurs should catch up with eventually. Highly recommended, it screens this Sunday (6/8) at BAM as part of their King Hu retrospective.