I'll cut straight to the chase. It's not since Ong-Bak that a film has so wowed me with its (ha!) furious action. I have seen reviews comparing this movie with The Raid and The Night Comes for Us. The latter I remember seeing some of on Netflix, but after a point I just switched off because it seemed to me just full of sadism and mean-spiritedness posing as entertainment. The Raid comparison is more appropriate, especially since a major action sequence is when an army of thugs enters a multi-story building our heroes are trapped in, and they have to fight their way through. But The Raid itself was butt-ugly, shot on a Handycam level camera with no thought for lighting and contrast.
If we say that The Furious is defined by its action, then to me it owes more to the classic Hong Kong martial arts crime movies than anything else. While brutal, the action is also extremely balletic; 'beat' poetry at its finest (apologies, Mr. Ginsberg). In The Furious' world, duels are rare. Most fights are threesomes, foursomes, in general multi-somes. The bodies of combatants in flow are pressed together like a sandwich, twisted into a pretzel, piled up in a meat pyramid.
Director Tanigaki knows how to film his action sequences well - eschewing the frequent modern tendency for rapid cutting, he favors long takes in which we can appreciate the beauty of the choreography and the precision of the actors. It makes the fights easy to follow as a dance of deadly movements. The interesting thing is that in most fights, there are no 'fodder' extras, stuntmen who fall down after just a couple of blows to show how powerful the heroes are. No, almost every battle here is hard-won.
The best part of the film was the climactic 5-way showdown, which for me equals, and (sacrilege!) maybe even surpasses the final fight between the Peking Opera brothers (Jackie Chan, Sammo Hung, Yuen Biao) and Dick Wei in Project A. Without any spoilers, it features an actor/fighter who is part acrobat and part wrecking ball. He is basically Donkey Kong in live action. Lead actors Miao Xie and Joe Taslim have great action chops, and analogous to Angela Mao in Enter the Dragon there is a pivotal cameo at the start from Chocolate star (Jeeja) Yanin Vismitananda.
So yeah, if watching brilliantly choreographed bruising ballets is your idea of a good time, then The Furious will make you happy indeed.
In Goodbye, Dragon Inn, two characters stand silent for a long spell in the cramped disused corridor of a movie-hall building, while outside the rain steadily pours. Finally, one says to the other, "They say this theater is haunted." Coming somewhere around the halfway mark, it is the first instance of an original spoken line in this 82-min film. This is not to say that the proceedings thus far had been silent, or even devoid of dialog. But all the words heard till then came off the movie screen as it played the film-within-a-film of King Hu's Dragon Inn. In Tsai Ming-liang's languorous post-millennium arthouse drama the flickering images from Hu's 1967 swordplay epic are like ghosts. Ironically, these visuals and the crackling diegetic sounds are also the most vital element in a film whose 'real' characters all act like specters or somnambulists.
The most significant specter is of course the theater building itself: a crumbling edifice with dripping un-carpeted corridors, winding staircases and toilets that need to be manually flushed, it is living in the past. You can almost smell the dankness and decay. Even the films screened are ghosts, re-runs from long ago. We are privy to the last show of the day, maybe the last show ever for the cinema.
This shadow of fatalism hangs over all the other characters. They have no names, no identities beyond what we immediately see. There's the handicapped ticket-lady (Shiang-chyi Chen) who also doubles as janitor. The film devotes swathes of footage to her clomping deliberately along the lengths of passages or climbing multiple flights of stairs. She has unrequited attraction for the projectionist: when after making her way up she doesn't see him in his room, she stares a while at the still smoldering cigarette on the table edge, as though taking in his essence from its vapors. One of the most film's memorable images is when she looks up from behind the screen at the warrior woman in Dragon Inn gracefully leaping, dodging and slicing her path. It is a stark contrast to our ticket-lady with her slow clop.
Then there's the Japanese guy (Kiyonobu Mitamura) who mouths the line I referred to in the opening of this piece. Sitting for a vintage Mandarin potboiler in this derelict movie-house he is a fish out of water. We see him shift from one place to another: once to move away from a pair of women noisily crunching snacks, once as though to check on an old man sitting so still he might be dead. His encounter with a predatory woman slowly cracking nuts between her teeth is both humorous and creepy. We later learn that his interest in the movie-hall is not purely cinematic: it is a cruising joint for gays (In one scene a row of men take an undue amount of time at the urinals as they discreetly size each other up). His remark about the haunted theater is intended as a pick-up line, but in Goodbye, Dragon Inn's deadpan world, all passions run cold, all desires go unfulfilled.
Going into the film, I knew this might be a polarizing "love it or hate it" experience. I get what Tsai Ming-liang was going for, an existential ghost story where the ghosts are memories of times gone or the desires/aspirations that either fell by the wayside or remained unsatisfied. The film has parallels with some of Wong Kar-wai's work, particularly In the Mood for Love (ItMfL). I don't know if it is representative of Tasi Ming-liang's general style, but in contrast with the lushness of ItMfL's elegy, Goodbye, Dragon Inn has an austere, even anemic vibe. I have to say that at least on first watch, I wasn't wholly engrossed. Like the ticket-lady's steps the pace is plodding, and it may be telling that during the runtime I had a repeated urge to pause this and re-watch my copy of Dragon Inn instead.
That said, it may prove more evocative on repeat watches when the rhythm of the film is already in the head. Ming-liang's affection for the theme and the setting is certainly evident (Apparently the idea came about after the theater owner told him that the place was going to be shut down). To complement the footage from Dragon Inn, two of that film's stars have cameos here that kindle the nostalgia factor. Perhaps on another rainy day, I may make a trip to this rundown theater and sit for a repeat show.
In which I discuss Police Story III: supercop and its UK blu-ray release from Eureka Entertainment (for those that prefer to read, see the transcript below the video):
In their feature commentary on Eureka Video's blu-ray of Police Story 3: Supercop, Hong Kong movie experts Frank Djeng and FJ DeSanto talk about the expansion of the scope of the films and the changes in Jackie Chan's character across the Police Story (PS) franchise. The first two installments were entirely set in Hong Kong and featured Chan as hot-headed inspector Ka-Kui, who is constantly reprimanded by his superiors. The 3rd feature goes international rushing off to China and to Malaysia. Also, Ka-Kui as a character now appears more mature and less inclined to go renegade. In fact in PS3 he is regarded as the "Supercop", fit to be entrusted with a covert mission to capture an important drug runner in cooperation with the authorities in Mainland China.
The first two PS films followed a similar pattern. Chan's law-enforcer is a passionate but unruly character, whose antics get him into trouble with both the authorities and his long-suffering airhead girlfriend played by Maggie Cheung. But a lot happened in the four years between PS2 (1988) and PS3 (1993). In 1990, Chan made a major bid for international stardom with Armour of God 2: Operation Condor, directly competing with the James Bond and Indiana Jones franchises in the exotic adventure genre. And with her work in the films of Wong Kar-Waiand Stanley Kwan, Maggie Cheung was also developing a reputation as a powerhouse performer.
The other major novelty in PS3 is the introduction of a partner for Jackie in the form of the incredible Michelle Yeoh. Like Chan himself, Malaysian origin Michelle had gained fame in the 80's as a bona fide action star that did all her own stunts. But after that she had taken a break from films for almost 5 years; PS3 would be her return to reclaim the title of action queen, and boy, she seems totally determined to do that. In the film, Yeoh plays a Chinese policewoman assigned to help Chan with his mission of infiltrating an international crime gang. Like all good chauvinists, he at first considers her a liability, so she has to show him what she's made of. There's a continuous game of one-upmanship between the two stars that works wholly in the film's favor.
PS3 is part of Jackie Chan's golden run, and successfully continues his trademark blend of action and humor. Unlike the previous films which were directed by Jackie himself, the third film is helmed by Stanley Tong. This was only Tong's second feature, and the first one of such huge scope. To his credit, PS3 equals and even exceeds the thrills of 1&2. There are a number of decent skirmishes sprinkled throughout the feature, but its tour de force is the extended climax, which ranks as one of the most ambitious action sequences ever.
Starting as an attempt to ambush a prison van, it becomes a major vehicle chase. Michelle Yeoh dangling by the side of the van as it hurtles through rush hour (ha!) traffic brings to mind Jackie's acrobatics outside the bus from the first PS. Michelle has the grace of a ballet dancer married with the physicality of a fighter and, to top it all, an absolute no-shits-given attitude towards risky stunts. On the other side you have Jackie hanging for real from a rope ladder attached to a helicopter as it flies across the city. After this the helicopter crash-lands atop a train, and there's a free-for-all between these two supercops and the villains on the train roof, while they all struggle to keep themselves from falling off. It's possibly just my impression but in these scenes Jackie seems to be aiming for a crazier take on Buster Keaton's stunts in Sherlock Jr and Steamboat Bill. Mind you, all this is done on location, no optical tricks or green screen computer wizardry. This portion of the film was done in Malaysia apparently because they would have never got permission for such stunts in Hong Kong.
Suffice to say that it all makes for an immensely thrilling experience that you will want to revisit multiple times, purely to convince yourself that you really saw all these crazy scenes. For fans of badass Hong Kong style action, this is a landmark motion picture experience.
This is the 1992 trailer for Supercop:
A few words now about the blu-ray presentation from Eureka Video:
Newly restored in 4K resolution, PS3 is also available as a 4K blu-ray, but since I don't have a 4k setup at present, I was content to go with the 1080p version. I'm not an astute videophile, but I was quite pleased with the presentation, which looked lush and organic, without any undue digital scrubbing. There's a healthy color spectrum that doesn't seem to be influenced by any yellow/teal push, a common complaint in modern restorations. The Chinese audio defaults to lossless mono (which I assume was the theatrical mix), with options given for stereo and even an Atmos track. There's also a lossless English mono track. The Chinese mono is a robust track with no distortions or other weaknesses. PS3 was shot in sync sound using the actors' original voices, because of which the dialog comes across better than in the HK films that were wholly dubbed in post.
There are so many bonus features crammed onto this disc, it's only the magic of fan favorite encoder David Mackenzie which ensures that everything is presented as best as it can be. First off, there's the alternate shorter US version called Supercop. This one seems to have been sourced from the same restored master, but has a much lower video bitrate and a slightly filtered look compared to the main feature, but it is still quite watchable; given it's a bonus feature I wouldn't pick any nits with it. Apart from the Frank Djeng commentary, there's a second full-length commentary from Mike Leeder and Arne Venema. These guys, like Djeng, are regular contributors on a lot of HK martial arts blu-rays. It is again an enthusiastic and trivia laden track that fans will find entertaining.
There's a video piece with a guy called John Kreng, who is described as a stuntman and choreographer. Initially I thought he might have worked on Supercop, but he's just a fan, who was inspired to get into the business. His piece is pleasant, but a little rambling (like this review, maybe). The best extras for me were the archival interviews with Jackie, Michelle and Stanley Tong. They have many recollections from the making of the film, especially it's thrilling action sequences. There are some special interest featurettes, including one about Jackie Chan video-games and a Hong Kong city location guide for various scenes from the first two PS movies. There's also almost an hour's worth of out-takes from the shoot and just about every flavor of trailer you might want. If you're still not sated, the first run of copies carries a booklet with an essay from James Oliver, who is frankly not one of my favorite writers, you also get a set of postcard stills.
In all, a comprehensive package that does justice to one of the most thrilling action films of all time.
Eat Drink man Woman's (EDMW) title comes from a line in the film, "Eat, drink, man, woman. Basic human desires. Can't avoid them." If Yasujiro Ozu were to make a food-focused film it would come rather close. Of course this isn't Ozu but Taiwanese film-maker Ang Lee, one of the most interesting movie directors today for the sheer range of films that he has made, from intimate relationship dramas / dramedies to large scale spectacles, and sometimes interesting mixtures of the two. EDMW comes from Ang Lee's luminous 90's phase, shortly before he made the jump to Hollywood where he put out Sense & Sensibility and The Ice Storm, proving his masterly grasp of varied cultural sensibilities (and perhaps the universality of human emotion).
At its core EDMW (notably Ang Lee's only film actually set in Taiwan) is a relationship drama with the aging widower Mr. Chu and his three daughters Jen, Chien and Ning. Mr. Chu is the archetype patriarch, benevolent but domineering. The girls in one way or another feel constricted by the atmosphere at home. The eldest Jen is shaping up to be the unwilling spinster saddled with the looking after of the old man, Chien - the openly defiant one - looks for escape in apartment purchases and transfer promotions, while young Ning is making her way through college and the tricky path of relationships. This simmering pot of familial tensions is exemplified in the Sunday dinner, which also brings in the film's food connection. You see, Mr. Chu is a respected and passionate chef (even if the script signals his aging and dissatisfaction with life with a growing loss of taste senses) and the Sunday meal is a cornucopia of meticulously prepared and exquisitely crafted delicacies. It is a symbol of the bond between father and daughters even when the bond is so strained the girls consider sitting through the meal a torture ritual.
EDMW has the rhythm of a multi-threaded family soap in the hands of an intelligent and sensitive maker, with each strand given generous time to play out in full: Jen's quiet desperation for romance (or at least a form of escape from her colorless single status), Chien's resentment of Mr. Chu's controlling nature (it is suggested that her love of the culinary art was stifled by a father that pushed her out of the kitchen and into an admittedly successful corporate career), Ning a fast-food joint employee (What a slight for the epicurean Mr. Chu), tenuously building a relationship with her workmate's boyfriend. What of Mr. Chu himself? Alienated from his own daughters, Mr. Chu finds his outlet of paternal love in preparing elaborate lunchboxes for a young divorcee neighbor's schoolkid. There are other supporting characters each of whom in their own way stirs the wok. With some mild surprises the film eventually brings each character's arc to a close and establishes a new balance of relationships and emotions for these people we have come to know and understand, leaving us satiated, like at the end of a multi-course family feast.
EDMW cannot be recommended as an incisive character study and is unabashedly sentimental, but only a joyless scrooge would deny its hot-soup-like heartwarming qualities, and in its detailed depictions of food preparation and presentation, it's a delight to behold (Vegetarians and people on a diet beware).
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