Feng Xiaogang at Asia Society: If You Are the One

It was a 2008 blockbuster that helped herald the rise of Mainland China’s homegrown tent-poles, but being at the top of the domestic box-office was already a familiar place for Feng Xiaogang. After trying his hand at jingoistic spectacle, he returned to the sentimental melodrama that had been his bread and butter (yet his boldest work was still ahead of him). Millions of Chinese movie fans have seen it, but it feels a little dated thirteen years later and not just because of the flip phones. Nevertheless, it is easy to understand why Ge You would be so interested in Shu Qi when they meet on a blind date in Feng’s If You Are the One, which screens online for free this weekend, as part of the Asia Society’s Feng retrospective.

Qin Fen is a middle-aged rogue who never amounted to much, until he sold a gimmicky invention to venture capitalist with more money than sense. Now ready to settle down, he places a personal add, because that sort of thing had not completely gone online yet. He has many blind dates that are uncomfortable in uniquely shticky ways, but his meeting with flight attendant Xiaxiao “Smiley” Liang takes the cake.

First of all, she is obviously way out of his league. She also seems to radiate a sense of sadness. Qin quickly decides they have no future and she agrees, but both reveal much of themselves over the course of their boozy “what the heck” conversation. In fact, IYATO might have been considered a masterpiece if it had ended after his riveting confession, around the half-hour mark.

Instead, fate brings them together again and again after that. Eventually, Liang even pretends she is serious about a relationship and marriage, even though he knows she still pines for her caddish married lover. They share a connection, but if it isn’t love, can it still be enough?

With Xi currently engaged in a weird crackdown on celebrity culture and the Chinese film industry, it is suddenly amusing to watch films from not so long ago to pick out the things that might be troublesome now. We wish no ill on her, but we have to wonder how long Taiwanese thesps like Shu Qi can continue to star in Mainland at the level they did during the pre-Xi Jinping era.

Feng also satirizes China’s go-go deal-making mentality in a way that maybe isn’t so funny in the wake of the Evergrande meltdown. Unfortunately, some of the film’s best parts could now be at risk, including Qin Fen’s great early monologue, which speaks directly about lack of legal and practical equality for women in China. He also has a notable scene with Vivian Hsu, portraying a Taiwanese blind-date, with whom he discusses his gratitude for the assistance Taiwan offered during the Shenzhen earthquake.

Huang Bo’s The Island

Animal rain, most commonly fish, is a real-life, documented phenomenon that happens several times a year. It is thought to be the result of tornado-like winds traveling over water or wherever, sucking the fish up into the clouds. For castaways, fish falling from the skies is a godsend, but the unlikely bounty is small consolation for the sad sack Ma Jin in Huang Bo’s The Island (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

There is a meteor headed towards Earth, but experts disagree about the threat it poses, as experts do. Fate dictates it will strike while Ma Jin’s office is off on their team-building exercises. We’d rather have the meteor-strike, which seems to have happened judging from the tsunami-level waves that sweep them away to a mysterious island. It is doubling disappointing for Ma Jin, because he learned he just won the mega-lotto right before their boat left on its three-hour cruise.

Assuming there is still a world out there, Ma Jin has sixty days to claim his jackpot, but there are no signs of any external life. They seem to be stuck for the duration. Yet, he still can’t get the time of day from his office crush, Wu Shanshan, even though he is real close to being the last man on Earth—like one out of maybe twenty.

So, how do they survive this rock? At first, they turn to their tour guide, Xiao Wang, because he has military experience, but he quickly becomes a totalitarian brute. Ma Jin and his bro then join the former “boss” establishing an allegorical capitalist society, based on their two surviving decks of playing cards. However, Ma Jin quickly tires of this new rat race. After sequestering himself like a stylite, literally surviving on mana from the sky, Ma Jin plots a coup that will institute more communitarian policies, but with him at top as the head man.

The presence of Huang Bo and Wang Baoqiang from the smash hit Lost in Thailand will tempt many critics to call this Lost on an Island, but despite their outgoing performance styles, Huang’s directorial debut is mostly rather serious. The allegorical content is defiitely heavy-handed at times, but the relationship between Ma Jin and Wu is painfully realistic. It is not like she is this cool, sensitive woman who automatically falls for Ma Jin once she realizes the depth of his feelings. Instead, she shows herself to be held captive by fear and social pressure.

The first half of The Island has an effectively uneasy vibe, due to the uncertainty regarding the state of the rest of the world. The set pieces are also impressive, especially the upside-down cargo vessel wreck that becomes the home base for the boss’s capitalist society. Yet, it is hard to silence the voice in the back of your head saying: “please, please don’t let it end like the video for Huey Lewis’s “Stuck with You.’”

Regardless, Huang mixes a good deal of grit in with his usual hound dog persona. It really is some of his better work, but not quite up there with Battle of Memories and No Man’s Land. Shu Qi also elevates Wu Shanshan, making her surprisingly complicated and ultimately quite poignant. There is legit chemistry and tension in their scenes together. Unfortunately, most of the supporting cast give rather one-note performances as stock characters.

Although it has the underlying structure of your basic rom-com, The Island is ambitiously large in scale and moody in tone. The darker hues and symbolic elements might even work better here than in its home market, were it not for Huang and Wang, whose broader styles are a bit of an acquired taste. Recommended for regular patrons of Chinese cinema who would like to see Gilligan’s Island descend into The Lord of the Flies, Huang Bo’s The Island opens this Friday (8/10) in New York, at the AMC Empire.

The Adventurers: Andy Lau Steals His Way Across Europe

Evidently, French prisons are so hot at rehabilitation either. To be fair, this Hong Kong jewel thief was primed for recidivism. He was caught stealing part of the priceless “Gaia” three-piece necklace set. To find the villain who betrayed him, he will need the other two pieces. He will also commit crimes against the English language, but his French copper nemesis sounds nearly as awkward in Stephen Fung’s breezy The Adventurers (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Dan Zhang is an old school Thomas Crowne kind of jewel thief, who was planning on going straight after the big score that sent him up the river. With a few loyal accomplices and “Red” Ye, a hotshot new recruit, Zhang plans to take the other two pieces of Gaia. The first outstanding component-piece has been put up for charity auction in Paris by Tingting, a Chinese celebrity animal lover. Ironically, Red will whip up the animal rights protestors against her, over her alleged fur wardrobe, to cover-up the caper unfolding.

That will be the easy heist, even though it is in Bissette’s backyard. The hard one will be the third piece of Gaia, nestled in a vault within a castle outside Prague, owned by a nouveau riche Chinese oligarch. His security is state-of-tomorrow’s-art, but Zhang has Red. However, Bissette also has his own surprise ally, Amber Li, the art expert who authenticated the original fateful piece of Gaia, who happened to be engaged to Zhang at the time. Unaware of his true profession, she also felt slightly betrayed by the events that transpired.

Despite the fractured syntax, The Adventurers is cheerful throwback to old fashioned caper movies. Yes, there are all kinds of double- and triple-crosses going on, but it is still a genuinely low stress affair. It is all about exotic locales (Paris, Prague, Kiev), cat burglar stunts and gizmos, and a ridiculously attractive cast (Andy Lau, Shu Qi, Zhang Jingchu, You Tianyi, and probably Tony Yo-ning Yang counts too), plus bonus character actors Jean Reno and Eric Tsang.

If you enjoy watching Raffles-like characters shimmying across ledges and illuminating motion sensor-lasers, then The Adventurers is your cup of General Foods International Coffee. As Zhang, Lau has his on-screen charm cranked up to eleven. Shu Qi enjoys playing against type as the mercenary femme fatale Red, but Zhang Jingchu might actually outshine everyone as the sensitive but cerebral Li. Of course, Reno and Tsang do their thing as Det. Bissette and Zhang’s “uncle” fence, King Kong.

The Adventurers probably will not make it onto very many awards ballots, but it will be fifty times more entertaining to re-watch than Crash, American Beauty, or Titanic. It is a fun, sparkly film that goes down easy and leaves you with a desire to visit Prague with Shu Qi or Andy Lau. Recommended as pleasant “Summer Friday” matinee, The Adventurers opens this Friday (8/18) in New York, at the Regal E-Walk.

NYAFF ’17: The Village of No Return

If you have seen Star Trek V: The Final Frontier, you understand our innermost pain is what makes us human. The sinister con man masquerading as a Taoist priest would respond by offering to remove the pain of watching Star Trek V with his “Worry Ridder.” However, once you start letting someone erase the past, it inevitably leads to tyranny in Chen Yu-hsun’s goofy but still on-point satire The Village of No Return (trailer here), which screens during this year’s New York Asian Film Festival.

During the early days of the Chinese Republic, the well-heeled Rock Peeler is hatching an evil scheme to invade and dominate sleepy Desire Village with the help of the outlaw Cloud Clan. Big Pie was supposed to be his plant in the village, but his broken-hearted wife Autumn kind of-sort of poisoned him. It’s complicated, but she has good reason to feel guilty about it. Fortune Tien can fix that.

After his grand entrance, the village’s only slightly corrupt chief has the flamboyant flim flam man imprisoned, which might be his only wise decision in the entire film. Nevertheless, the smooth-talking Tien is administering memory wipes soon enough. Of course, once he starts poking around in villagers’ heads, he gives them full scrubs, leaving them susceptible to his nefarious suggestions that he is their beloved chief and Autumn is his adoring wife.

Ironically, it is Autumn who holds out the longest, because she is reluctant to lose her memories of her long lost true love, the chief’s son, Dean Wang. He went into the city to take the Civil Service exam, but disappeared during the Republican revolution. As fate would have it, he fell in with the Cloud Clan and is now lurking outside Desire Village, waiting for the messenger pigeons Big Pie will not be releasing.

Yes, you can read into Village a subtext regarding those who forget the past and dictators who censor unpleasant history into society’s memory hole. There are also a lot of people hitting each other and falling down. There is indeed plenty of slapstick business, but unlike some shticky Mainland comedies, this Taiwanese import has other things on its mind. For one thing, the steampunky design of the Memory Ridder is undeniably cool and its implications are pretty serious. Chen & Chang Yaosheng’s screenplay goes from bumpkin bumbling to dystopian mind control in record time.

The film is also anchored by the wonderfully subtle and sly Shu Qi, who effortlessly ranges from grandly tragic to radiantly sweet and archly suspicious and then back again. Joseph Chang Hsiao-chuan manages to be both nebbish and darkly brooding as village’s highly trained martial artist, who has never managed to use his skills due to an acute childhood trauma. Wang Qianyuan chews the scenery like mad as Fortune Tien, but he still can’t lay a glove on Eric Tsang, this year’s NYAFF Star Hong Kong Life Achievement Award recipient, who definitely does his thing as Rock Peeler.

There is plenty of broad humor in Village, but there is also some distinctive design work, a cautionary warning against sacrificing freedoms for the sake of comfort, and Shu Qi. What more do you need? Recommended for those who dig a wacky allegory, The Village of No Return screens tomorrow (7/2) at the Walter Reade, as part of the 2017 NYAFF.

China Institute Film Course: Foliage

They were like the Sharks and the Jets of the Cultural Revolution (but without song). Two competing PLA work teams have been sent down to the Yunnan countryside. They come from different backgrounds, but both are very interested in Ye Xing-yu. When she falls for the rebellious leader of the rival team, it inevitably leads to heartbreak in Lü Yue’s Foliage, which is the subject of this week’s Chinese Film Short Course lecture at the China Institute in New York.

Ye never felt like she belonged in the Yunnan camp—and who could blame her for that? However, it is not such a bad fit for her childhood pal and de facto boyfriend Yuan Ding-guo, who generally prefers to lower his head and plug away. Ye desperately hopes for a discharge to care for her widower father after his stroke, but her status as an “intellectual” will make that difficult. At least she will not be late returning from a visit home, thanks to the intercession of Liu Si-mong.

Naturally, Liu is quite taken with Ye. After years of Yuan’s quiet bashfulness, she is also rather impressed with his forthright interest. Unfortunately, a pickpocketing incident in Red Post Town (masterminded by Liu) will irreparably poison relations between the two work groups. Ye will try to act as a peacemaker, but her platoon will not have it. Instead, they intend to use her as bait for Yuan, whether she cooperates or not.

Foliage gives viewers a different perspective on the Cultural Revolution, but it is still not what you would describe as positive. Ye’s platoon are frequently derided as the “intellectuals” and “class enemies” due to their education and families’ professional backgrounds. In contrast, Liu’s platoon are more rustic types. They might very well have volunteered just to have a job, whereas Yuan’s colleagues frequently profess to believe in their mission (which seems to entail senselessly despoiling the land, from what we see). It is the same old class warfare, but turned inside-out, standing on its head. Frankly, it makes you wonder which team Bernie Sanders would throw his lot in with, if he were there (but he would surely expect to be part of the Gang of Four).

Still, the extent to which everyone loses their heads over Ye at a time so fraught with irrational ideological violence somewhat stretches credibility, even if she is played by Shu Qi, who it must be admitted, absolutely lights up the screen. She effectively develops some radically different screen chemistry with her two competing leading men. You can feel her comfort with Fan Bing’s Yuan, like an old shoe, and the passion that percolates with Liu Ye’s Liu Si-mong. However, Qi Huan steals scene after scene as Ye’s cute but sadly tragic best friend Wei Hung.

Fortunately, the platoon factions are not productive enough at raping the environment to deny Lü his lovely natural backdrops. Best known as a cinematography, he has shot several Zhang Yimou films, Joan Chen’s Cultural Revolution drama, Xiu Xiu: the Sent-Down Girl, and Feng Xiaogang’s explicitly jingoistic Assembly and Back to 1942, so he has range and flexibility. He helms the love triangle with great sensitivity, conveying all the angst and yearning, without descending into melodrama. As a result, Foliage is a wonderfully sad and sweeping story of love sabotaged by the macro forces of history, highly recommended, if you can find it. Indeed, there should be no shortage of historical and political context to explore when Foliage is the lecture topic this Wednesday (5/25) at the China Institute.

Mojin: the Lost Legend—the Other Blockbuster Franchise

It is currently the #2 film at the global box office, nipping at the heels of The Force Awakens. It is also the second adaptation of the bestselling Chinese Ghost Blows Out the Light series of novels. In a weird distribution of rights, one consortium of film companies optioned the first four novels, and another group of partners bought the latter quartet. This is the one starring Shu Qi as American-born Chinese tomb raider Shirley Yang, which partially explains its brisk business. Yang and her associates will shimmy into crypts and flee hordes of zombies in Wuershan’s Mojin: the Lost Legend (trailer here), which is now playing in New York.

Yang, the Byronic Hu Bayi, and the rubber-faced Wang Kaixuan are trained in Mojin, the art of grave “borrowing.” As per their time honored practice, they carefully light a candle in the corner of each tomb they visit. By blowing it out, the tomb’s ghost makes his displeasure known, forcing the trio to leave accordingly. However, if the candle still burns, then its all good. They are in for an exception to the rule. Things will get bad, but Hu and Wang have seen worse during their first subterranean excursion.

Flashing back to the Cultural Revolution, Hu and Wang are sent to Inner Mongolia as part of their re-education. Both fall in love with the comrade Ding Sitian. She is still adorable, even though she believes the revolutionary slogans far more than they do. Through a strange chain of events, they stumble into an ancient tomb. Of course, the cadres urge them to be “true materialists” and “smash the Four Olds.” Unfortunately, in this case, the Olds are not merely ancient. They are undead.

Hu and Wang carry the scars of their backstory. It is why Hu has never properly put the moves on the super-interested Yang. Similarly, the more impulsive Wang will sign up with a dodgy expedition financed Madame Ying, a Chinese born Japanese industrialist and cult leader in search of the mythical Equinox Flower, hoping he can use it to resurrect the late Ding. Putting aside their Tracy-and-Hepburn-esque differences, Yang and Hu set out to save Wang from his bad judgement. Frankly, they cannot completely blame Wang for the ensuing trouble. The whole deal was brokered by their dodgy agent Grill. At least he will quickly cone to regret it.

Believe it or not, Mojin’s narrative probably makes even less sense on screen, but it hardly matters. Wuershan maintains enough breakneck energy and the all-star cast exudes enough raw charisma to keep the film galloping forward, with or without logic. The special effects are Hollywood tentpole quality and the Inner Mongolian vistas are wildly cinematic. This is a big film, in many respects.

Yet, there were apparently risks involved, starting with its very premise. Tomb-plundering is not exactly politically correct in China these days, which reportedly caused more than a little uncertainty during the development process. The scenes set during Cultural Revolution are also a tad bit gutsy, especially when the Red Guards order the young Hu’s detachment to smash the Kitian artifacts.

Shu Qi is one of the few movie stars working today, who can quietly kneecap viewers with a single look (this has been her specialty for Hou Hsiao Hsien, including the recent The Assassin). It must be noted, Shirley Yang is quite the heroine, since it was Yao Chen filling her boots in Chronicles of the Ghostly Tribe, which American audiences have yet to get a good look at.

As Hu, Chen Kun puts his shaggy look and brooding manner to good use, much as he did in Snow Girl and the Dark Crystal. Bo Huang mostly keeps the shtick in check as Wang, but it is fair to say Xia Yu’s Grill lacks his reserve. However, Angelebaby is acutely cute as Ding, while also bringing some tragic depth to their ill-fated romantic interest. Yet, Cherry Ngan shows off some of the best action chops as Madame Ying’s henchperson, Yoko.

At times, Mojin feels like Wolf Totem with zombies in place of the wolves, which is a cool place to be. Some of the broader, more localized humor fails to land, but there is more than enough adventure, supernatural bedlam, and ironic historical references to keep subtitle readers on-board and invested. In fact, viewers will probably be primed for the competing Ghost Blows Out the Light film franchise and Mojin’s inevitable sequels. Recommended for action fans, Mojin: the Lost Legend is now playing in New York, at the AMC Empire.

NYFF ’15: The Assassin

The cinematic tradition of the butt-kicking woman wuxia warrior can be traced directly to Red Heroine from 1929. It might date back even further, but sadly few Chinese silent films survived Mao’s many destructive mass campaigns. In the succeeding years, Michelle Yeoh and Cheng Pei-pei made their legendary careers playing such characters. However, they never had the sort of exquisitely lush backdrops afforded to Nie Yinniang, the titular anti-heroine of Hou Hsiao-hsien’s long-anticipated first wuxia film (and Taiwan's official Academy submission), The Assassin (trailer here), which screens as a Main Slate selection of the 53^rd New York Film Festival.

As child, Nie Yinniang was promised in marriage to her cousin Tian Ji’an but scandal tore those plans asunder. After an ill-fated episode trespassing in a rival family’s palace, Nie is trundled off to Jiaxin, a martial arts nun, who trains her to be the perfect assassin. At twenty-three, her education is complete, but she still shows traces of a conscience. After sparing her most recent target out of sympathy for his young son, Nie is sent home, ostensibly to visit her parents. However, her next assignment will be the very same Tian Ji’an, who is now the headstrong military governor of Hebei Province.

To further complicate matters, Tian Ji’an is openly plotting against Tian Xing, one of his military commanders, who also happens to be a distant relative. Nie Yinniang might just be inclined to intercede on Tian Xing’s behalf, but that is decidedly not what Jiaxin had in mind.

Frankly, Hou’s narrative (also credited to three co-screenwriters) is rather murky and elliptical. Wuxia fans simply have to be content knowing some kind of intrigue is going on, even if the who’s and why’s are a tad tricky to follow. Instead, this is a film meant to wash over viewers. Even at the deliberately confined Academy ratio, The Assassin is a staggering sight, often resembling traditional Chinese watercolor scrolls, with one lone figure (usually Nie) tucked away in the corner of a sprawling landscape. Mark Lee Ping-bin has been one of the best cinematographers not named Christopher Doyle for years, but The Assassin is his finest work yet. Not to belabor the point, but the film is gorgeous.

Having Shu Qi as the lead does not hurt either. In fact, the film would not have worked without her. As a standout in previous Hou films (remember the opening tunnel scene in Millennium Mambo), she can withstand his close scrutiny, quietly projecting a host of emotions with power and economy. Yet, she also has legit action chops forged in films like Journey to the West. In contrast, Chang Cheng looks ill at ease as Tian Ji’an, even though he certainly knows his way around a wuxia film. However, as Jiaxin, Sheu Fang-yi (also excellent as a very different teacher in Touch of the Light) is a wonderfully ambiguous antagonist and a fitting equal to Shu Qi’s Nie.

Martial arts fans might well be put off by Hou’s approach to the fight scenes. For the most part they are executed spectacularly quickly, but that is how an assassin like Nie Yinniang would want to take care of business. It will likely prove divisive among genre diehards, but it is worth experiencing just to see how Hou’s aesthetic translates in a wuxia setting. Recommended for its remarkably accomplished artistry and what may very well prove to be an iconic turn from Shu Qi, The Assassin screens this Friday (10/9) at Alice Tully Hall and Saturday (10/10) at the Walter Reade, as part of this year’s NYFF, in advance of its October 16th New York opening at the IFC Center and the Elinor Bunin Munroe Film Center.

Hou Hsiao-hsien at the Freer: Millennium Mambo

What’s the point of slouching through Fin de siècle Taipei if you do not indulge in a little hedonism? Unfortunately, that seems to be the best life can offer one lost beauty. She will find far more consolation in artificial stimulants and pounding club music than from her spectacularly unhealthy lover in Hou Hsiao-hsien’s Millennium Mambo (trailer here), which screens tomorrow at the Smithsonian’s Freer Gallery in Washington, DC.

Vicky is a stunning beauty, but she has made some terrible choices, such as getting involved with Hao-hao, an emotional abusive deadbeat. She would like to make a clean break from him, but every time she tries, he keeps coming back, worming into her life and living space once again. However, when Vicky lets Jack, a mid-level gangster, serve as her sugar-daddy she might finally be well rid of Hao-hao. Nevertheless, do not expect a happy ending for their apparently platonic whatever-it-is.

Mambo’s opening shot of Vicky walking through a somewhat sketchy looking pedestrian bridge is a visual tour-de-force with all the iconic sexuality of Marilyn Monroe’s subway vent encounter, but infused with a potent sense of menace. Unfortunately, the rest of the film lacks the same level of pop. While Hou’s anesthetized vibe is a deliberate strategy that sort of works, his temporal shifts are not clearly delineated. Still, Vicky’s dispassionate narration, told from the vantage point of ten years in the future, is eerily disconcerting. It almost sounds as if she were whispering from the graveyard, even though there is no reason to believe she will not bounce back from her setbacks, landing on her feet or what-have-you.

Few films give viewers such intimate knowledge of its characters, yet somehow we never really feel we understand who they truly are. Of course, that is the whole point. Despite her inscrutability, Shu Qi holds viewers’ attention in a vice-lock. It is not just her ethereal beauty. We can see there is something dramatic brewing in her eyes, we just can’t tell what. As Hao-hao, Tuan Chun-hao makes a contemptible character strangely forgettable, but the steely gravitas of Jack Kao’s namesake at least gives Shu Qi some memorable support during the third act.

Arguably, Mambo is very definitely a product of its hipster millennial time. By now, the combination of its dreamy neon visuals and driving electronica already feels a little dated. Still, the film’s evocative nocturnal look is a prime example why Mark Lee Ping-bin is considered one of the world’s foremost cinematographers. It is hardly perfect, but it is still quite worth seeing, if only for Shu Qi’s seductively raw performance. It should also help tide over fans as we wait and hope for The Assassin, Hou’s first wuxia film, naturally starring Shu Qi. Recommended for those who appreciate Hou’s more rarified art-house releases, Millennium Mambo screens (for free) tomorrow (12/21), at the Freer Gallery in DC.

Journey to the West: Stephen Chow Unleashes the Monkey King

Wu Cheng’en’s classic Ming era novel is a big thick multi-volume work that has inspired many film adaptations drawn from various points throughout its epic time frame. Still, you might not find the exact story of Stephen Chow’s latest comedic spectacle in there, but several of the characters will certainly be familiar. The Monkey King and his fellow demons will tangle with a young and awkward Xuan Zang in Chow & co-director Derek Kwok’s Journey to the West (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

As a novice demon hunter, Xuan Zang hardly seems likely to reach enlightenment. However, he will do his best to fight the water demon plaguing a provincial fishing village in the go-for-broke opening sequence. While he is more effective than the charlatan that took the first crack at the creature, he is no match for the prowess of Miss Duan, a demon hunter extraordinaire. She does not think much of his use of a collection of nursery rhymes to appeal to the demons’ inner youthful goodness. Nevertheless, she falls for Xuan Zang hard, which confuses the devout Buddhist no end.

While Miss Duan handles the Water Demon with relative ease, KL Hogg (the Pig Demon) turns out to be elusively slippery.  Their pursuit of the latter will bring them into uncomfortably close contact with Sun Wukong, the Monkey King. At this point, all bets are off.

Wen Zhang (recognizable from Ocean Heaven) is appropriately wide-eyed and innocent as Xuan Zang, but the film is completely dominated by Shu Qi. As Miss Duan she shows all kinds of moves and a flair for physical humor we never knew she had in her. Watching her kick demon butt is a sight to behold, but it demonstrates the superior action opportunities for actresses in Chinese language cinema, especially when contrasted with their Hollywood counterpoints.

The prospective Expendabelles film is a case in point, with the embarrassing casting rumors centering around Meryl Streep (all dingos beware), Geena Davis (because nobody could ever get enough of Cutthroat Island), and Linda Hamilton (granted, T2 was great action film, over twenty years ago). On the other hand, every major Chinese language star takes on action roles throughout their careers, as a matter of course. Recent examples include Gwei Lun Mei in Flying Swords of Dragon Gate, Zhou Xun in the same film, as well as The Great Magician, Michelle Yeoh in nearly all her films, with Reign of Assassins being a recent example, Angelababy in Tai Chi Zero, Ziyi Zhang in The Grandmaster, and Mi Yang in Wu Dang. Now its Shu Qi’s turn and she makes the most of it.

When Shu Qi does her thing, Journey is wildly fun. Nevertheless, Chow did not return to the Monkey King character that made his name and reputation in A Chinese Odyssey just for a quick paycheck. As a reboot/prequel/film-within-the-margins, Journey starts as a massive beatdown and explodes on a cosmic scale, ending with more divine retribution than you will find in the entire Left Behind franchise. The message is simple—do not tick off Buddha.

So you have Shu Qi, a trio of demons, and an apocalyptic showdown. What more could you possibly need?  On the micro level, Ku Huen Chiu’s action choreography is impressively cinematic yet true to Chow’s eccentric aesthetic. On the macro level, Ken Law’s special effects really do not look like anything we have seen before. Plus “pseudo-model”-turned actress Chrissie Chau appears as Miss Duan’s lieutenant, Killer Four, giving her lessons in seduction that go fantastically awry. This is indeed the full assault to the senses Chow’s fans have been waiting for. Recommended with the enthusiasm of a fanboy, Journey to the West opens this Friday (3/7) in New York at the Cinema Village.

Tai Chi Zero: Stephen Fung Brings the Lunacy

Mastery of the martial arts entails more than just fighting.  It encompasses a spiritually balanced approach to life.  Yang Lu Chan missed those lessons.  An instinctive warrior and physical mimic, he was born with a small horn on his head that turns him into a freakish berserker when given a good smack.  Unfortunately, his rampages have substantially drained his life force.  His only hope to restore his inner equilibrium lies in learning the Chen Style Tai Chi practiced in its namesake village.  However, they do not cotton much to strangers in Stephen Fung’s wildly eccentric beatdown Tai Chi Zero (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

The horned Yang was a child only a mother could love.  He has only ever been good at one thing, but his skills were evident enough to catch the eye of a warlord-cult leader.  Yang fights like mad for his master, but it takes a toll.  After waking up woozy in the makeshift infirmary once again, the doctor advises him to make haste for Chen Village before his horn turns black.  Yet, once Yang arrives, he is informed in no uncertain terms Chen secrets can never be revealed to outsiders.  Of course, the big lug will not take no for an answer, earning him a series of pummelings at the hands of villagers, such as the mysterious Master Chen’s daughter, Yu-niang, who definitely catches Yang’s eye while pasting him silly.  He even gets man-handled by a real life five year old prodigy, who could single-handedly humble the Expendables and their proposed spin-offs.

How do we know she is an actual prodigy?  Because the film identifies each significant cast member with a sample of their credits whenever their characters first appear on-screen.  It might sound distracting, but there is so much madness going on, it is really just another thing to try to process.  Incorporating highly stylized graphics into some of the wildest fight scenes you could ever hope to see (choreographed by action director Master Sammo Hung), Zero does not lack for energy.  It even veers into steampunk territory when Yang and the citizens of Chen combine forces to fight the Troy, the Wild Wild West-esque armored steam engine commanded by Yu-niang’s vengeful ex, Fang Zijing, who lived in Chen for years, but was never allowed to learn their secrets either.

Although actress-model Angelababy is already a huge star throughout Asia, her enormously charismatic performance as Yu-niang should earn her a considerable cult following in the West.  She is nothing less than dynamite throwing Yang about like a rag doll.   It is hard to think of another action star who can be so convincingly cute, tough, and vulnerable, all at the same time. 

As “the Freak,” Changquan Wushu champion Jayden Yuan has an endearing sad sack presence and is always credible in the action scenes.  Tony Leung Ka Fai (a.k.a. “Big Tony” Leung) is clearly enjoying every moment of scenery chewing as the idiosyncratic Master Chen.  Though only appearing briefly as Yang’s mother, Shu Qi is still ethereally striking and always worth watching.  The only weak link is Eddie Peng, whose Fang Zijing is a rather underwhelming villain.  Oh, but wait.  Ending with what is essentially a trailer for the sequel, Zero promises heavier heavies to come.

Zero is so amped up and adrenaline charged, actor-turned-director Fung deserves major credit for maintaining his narrative clarity amid all the commotion.  Indeed, he has a talent for stage-managing insanity.  Visually distinctive and loads of meathead fun, Tai Chi Zero is highly recommended for genre fans when it opens this Friday (10/19) in New York at the AMC Empire.

NYAFF ’12: 10+10

Taiwan is a country with a tragic history and rich legacy of pop music.  Both factor prominently when ten established Taiwanese filmmakers and ten emerging new talents were commissioned by the Taipei Golden Horse Film Festival to create a five minute films expressing the country’s unique character.  The resulting anthology 10+10 screens this coming Thursday as an official selection of the 2012 New York Asian Film Festival.

Viewers going into 10+10 should not get hung up on consistency.  These twenty filmmakers will cover a lot of emotional and thematic ground.  The tension between tradition and modernization will be a recurring motif, beginning with Wang Toon’s opener, in which a bickering pair of cousins treks up to a remote shrine.  They intent to curry favor with the spirits by showing them the 3-D DVD of Avatar.  It is a quiet but clever piece.

Nostalgia is also on tap in Wu Nien-jen’s A Grocery Called Forever.  Depicting a spirited elderly woman who insists on keeping her family’s corner store open, it is a pleasant slice of life.  Taiwan’s aging population play central roles in several constituent films, perhaps most touchingly in Cheng Wen-tang’s Old Man and Me.  Told from the persona of a now deceased man suffering from Alzheimer’s, it serves as his thank-you to the townspeople who searched the countryside for him when he wandering off to his demise.

Given the approximate five minute durations, many of the installments are rather sketch-like.  Indeed, entries like Wang Shaudi’s Destined Eruption and Yang Ya-che’s The Singing Boy seem to end just as they are getting started.  However, several pack quite a bit of narrative into their limited running times.  Somehow, Chang Tso-Chi’s Sparkles shoehorns the entire 1949 Battle of Kinmen Island into less than ten minutes.  A powerful war film, it follows an innocent girl being escorted to the island’s doctor by the Nationalists, as they desperately try to hold off the invading Communists.

Featuring plenty of explosions, Sparkles is probably one of the most NYAFF-esque films in 10+10.  The other would be Chung Mong-hong’s satisfyingly dark Reverberation.  What starts as a teenaged bullying drama takes a dramatic u-turn into gangster territory.  Karma will be a hard thing.

Easily the strongest shorts are those directly inspired by music.  Chen Kuo-fu’s The Debut is a lovely ghost story, portraying the spectral encouragement offered to a discouraged pop ingénue by one of the great torch singers from yesteryear.  Likewise, Rendy Hou Chi-jan pays tribute to the sentimental ballads of the 1960’s, depicting one song’s power to transcend time.  Ranking just a notch below the lyrical pair, Cheng Yu-chieh’s Unwritten delivers some ironic laughs satirizing the concessions made by the Taiwanese film industry to the mainland market.  Frankly, it is increasingly relevant to Hollywood as well.

Not every film works particularly well.  Wei Te-sheng’s Debut ought to be a DVD extra for his aboriginal war drama Seediq Bale, essentially following his first-time actor Lin Ching-tai as they take the epic to the Venice Film Festival.  Arguably, the low point comes with Kevin Chu Yen-ping’s uncomfortably manipulative and awkwardly didactic The Orphans.

Surprisingly, there is a fair amount of star power in 10+10, including Shu Qi looking typically radiant in marquis contributor Hou Hsiao-hsien’s slight but nonetheless engaging closer La Belle Epoque.  Kwai Lun Mei also graces Leon Dai’s oomph-lacking Key.  Despite attempts to glam her down, she remains a vivid screen presence.

By their nature, anthology films are inherently uneven.  Yet, there are enough good things going on in 10+10 to satisfy connoisseurs of either short films or Asian cinema.  On balance, it is an effective sampling of Taiwanese cinema, well worth a look when it screens this coming Thursday (7/5) at the Walter Reade Theater, as part of this year’s New York Asian Film Festival.

Love: From Taipei to Beijing

They are two cities so alike, but so far apart. Can a man from Taipei find love in Beijing? There are even greater obstacles facing eight interconnected individuals, but somehow love finds a way in Doze Niu Chen-Zer’s Love (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York, following a special Valentine’s sneak tonight.

Father of Ni and sugar daddy to the professional celebrity, Zoe Fang, “Uncle” Lu lives well in Taipei. Having just broken off an affair with the beautiful but needy Fang before it could really start, Lu’s business associate Mark leaves for Beijing hoping to buy property. Instead, he meets disastrously meet-cutes the attractive but disorganized realtor Jin Xiao-ye.

Although Uncle Lu offers stability, Fang is drawn in spite of herself to Kuan, the stammering busboy older brother of Yi-jia, Ni’s best friend who is pregnant by Ni’s boyfriend, Kai. Feeling understandably betrayed, Ni breaks with both, leaving Kuan to look after his sister while his Notting Hill relationship with Fang slowly percolates.

Love clearly sounds like another Chinese-Taiwanese variation on multi-character rom-coms typified by Valentine’s Day and Heaven forbid New Year’s Eve. However, Doze Nui’s film and its thematic predecessors such as Wing Shya and Tony Chan’s Love in Space work so much better, perhaps because they are never afraid of a little emotion or melodrama. Unlike Gary Marshall schmaltz, one never gets the sense the cast-members are rolling their eyes off camera. On the contrary, everyone involved with Love seems to understand when you have deep feelings for someone that may not be reciprocal, it is a very serious matter.

Love also has the benefit of legitimate chemistry within its ridiculously attractive ensemble. Perhaps past familiarity helped. After pining for (Ivy) Chen Yi-han in Cheng Fen-fen’s Hear Me, (Eddie) Peng Yu-yan becomes the object of her unrequited affections this time around, as Kai. He makes a credible knucklehead again, while her turn as Yi-jia is just as sweet and vulnerable. Likewise, Amber Kuo is equally sympathetic and engaging as Ni.

However, the (somewhat) senior cast members really provide the romantic seasoning. Superstar Shu Qi is absolutely radiant, putting Julia Roberts to shame as Fang. She also convincingly expresses her character’s desire to find self worth through productive work, an appealing theme largely foreign to Hollywood and American indie productions (“Work? Huh, wha?”) As in his previous film Monga, Doze Niu provides himself a key assist in a supporting role. Although the comparative old timer, he brings far more charisma to Uncle Lu than can be dismissed as Woody Allen style vanity casting. One could well imagine a single middle aged woman would be very interested in meeting him.

Aptly titled, Love is perfect Valentine’s Day fare, but not unrealistically so. It is pretty clear not every character will have a spot on a loveseat when the music stops. Yet, it is an impossible movie not to like. Recommended for all the secret sentimentalists out there who can safely go to foreign films without losing their cineaste street cred, Love officially opens this Friday (2/17) in New York at the AMC Empire and in San Francisco at the AMC Metreon, from China Lion Entertainment.

HK Cinema at SFFS: City Under Siege

Prepare to watch the themes and motifs of the Marvel superhero universe get put through a HK action blender. As the Marvel editors used to say in the 1980’s: ‘nuff said. Produced before his recent epic Shaolin as well as the 3-D blockbuster Captain America (that it parallels in unlikely ways), Benny Chan’s clobbering City Under Siege (down-to-business trailer here), screens this Saturday as part of the San Francisco Film Society’s Hong Kong Cinema series.

In a secret bunker in Malaysia, the Imperial Japanese military was perfecting their super-soldier formula. The results were not pretty to look at, but undeniably effective. Fortunately, an allied bombing raid halted the program in its tracks. In more or less present day, Twin-Dagger Sunny is a terrible circus performer, stuck playing the sad clown because nobody trusts him throwing knives. A bit Gumpish, Sunny is forced to help some of his less savory circus colleagues looking to plunder gold from the secret Japanese bunker. Of course, the knuckleheads accidentally let loose a major dose of the mutant soldier formula.

Yet, for reasons never coherently explained, the chemical compounds do not affect Sunny in the same manner as the others. Washing up on the Hong Kong shore (through a set of circumstances borrowing heavily from Dracula), Twin-Dagger finds himself in the Klump fat suit, but once he dries out he resumes his normal skin-and-bones body weight. Somewhat relieved, he happily stumbles across Angel Chan, the gorgeous newscaster who captures his improvised super-heroics on film.

Suffering from the criminal mayhem of Sunny’s freaky-looking fellow mutants, Hong Kong needs a hero. Seizing the opportunity, Chan becomes his agent, putting the affable Sunny on a full media tour (Steve Rogers, can you relate?). They also have the dubious protection of permanently engaged Men-in-Black, Sun “Old Man” Hao and Cheng “Tai” Xiuhua, who are using him as bait to draw in the marauding mutants. Right, good plan.

It is important to understand Aaron Kwok is a huge pop star in Hong Kong, because his underwhelming screen presence does not help Siege anymore than it did Christina Yao’s otherwise striking Empire of Silver. Still, Siege’s all-star ensemble and Benny Chan’s razzle dazzle largely compensate for the weak protagonist.

Frankly, martial arts up-and-comer Wu Jing almost usurps Kwok’s Twin-Dagger, capably carrying the film as Agent “Old Man,” while the charismatic Jingchu Zhang holds her own kicking butt as his intended. Their weaponized acupuncture is also a cool twist, neatly choreographed by action directors Ma Yuk-sing and Li Chung-chi. With Shu Qi looking radiant enough to convincingly inspire the monstrous chief mutant’s beauty-and-the-beast affections and enough pyrotechnics to level a mid-sized city, Siege pretty much hits all the bases.

Sure, Siege can be a touch melodramatic and over-the-top. It is a HK genre film. Viewers have to check their film snobbery and the door and get down with the chaos. There is definitely a lot of the latter, rendered with appropriate adrenaline. It also suggests the action pairing of Wu Jing and Jingchu Zhang is worth repeating in future films. Highly entertaining for fanboys, Siege screens Saturday afternoon (9/24) and Sunday evening (9/25) at the New Peoples Cinema as part of SFFS’s Hong Kong Cinema showcase.

The Return of an Icon, Chen Zhen: Legend of the Fist

They were the forgotten allies of World War One. The Chinese government sided against Germany and even supplied men to the cause, whom the allies used as common trench-diggers. However, when the Germans advanced, Chen Zhen knew what to do. Returning to a China occupied by foreign powers, the legendary hero brings the war to the Japanese military in Andrew Lau’s Legend of the Fist (trailer here), a selection of the 67th Venice Film Festival, which opens uncut and undubbed (the way God intended) this Friday in New York.

Cleverly disguised with a pencil-thin mustache, Chen Zhen has assumed the identity of playboy Qi Tianyuan. As a cover, he manages the nightclub of the super-connected Liu Yutian, while serving as the eyes and ears of the Chinese nationalists. Many in Shanghai have acquiesced to the Japanese strong-arm tactics. However, the masked Chen Zhen’s well publicized acts of resistance begin to stir the populace. Of course, the Japanese are not amused. With the stakes rising exponentially, neutrality will no longer be an option.

It is surely no accident Chen Zhen’s club is called the Casablanca. There is definitely gambling going on there, as well as all sorts of espionage. Chen Zhen is no Rick Blaine though. He is a patriot through and through. Not even Kiki, the club’s gorgeous canary, will distract him from the fight.

Donnie Yen is probably the top action star working anywhere in the world today. Certainly, nobody in Hollywood can rival his martial arts cred and easy-going screen presence. After building a name in America as Bruce Lee’s future master in the Ip Man franchise, Yen is the logical choice for Chen Zhen, a role once played by Lee, as well as the likes of Jackie Chan and Jet Li. Also serving as the action director, Yen totally delivers the martial arts goods. Happily though, he need not carry the entire picture.

Indeed, Shu Qi makes a truly scorching femme fatale as Kiki, even performing a hot and swinging rendition of the Carmen aria. As Col. Chikaraishi, Kohata Ryuichi is just an okay villain, but Johnnie To regular Anthony Wong adds class and character to the proceedings as Liu Yutian.

Fist is one of the few successful retro historical action movies since Indiana Jones’ heyday. Art director Eric Lam’s 1920’s period details look great and the Yen’s fight sequences are consistently inventive. If anything, the film is slightly off balance, with best action scene coming up top, as a flashback to WWI, but at least it’s in there.

A first-rate production with a charismatic cast, Fist is the sort of film that makes fanboys of us all. Really, the only problem with it is its timing. The film is a blast, but its Japanese villains come at a time when many Asian film lovers are doggedly raising funds and awareness for Japan as it copes with the aftermath of the recent earthquake and tsunami. (Again, Hollywood and the Obama administration are welcome to jump onboard anytime.) Regardless, Fist is definitely recommended when it opens this Friday (4/22) at the Village East, as is supporting the Red Cross here and the Japan Society’s relief fund here.