In the Name of the King 2: Two Worlds

(2011, US, Event Film/Brightlight Pictures)

Dir. Uwe Boll; Pro. Dan Clarke; Scr. Michael Nachoff; Cast Dolph Lundgren, Lochlyn Munro, Natassia Malthe, Christina Jastrzembska.

96 min.

Barmy fantasy sequel in which retired one man army Lundgren returns home to find a medieval damsel in distress fighting hooded assassins in his kitchen, before they both escape through a time portal and rock up in a cheap episode of Game of Thrones. In this other realm, Dolph Lundgren is considered to be the Chosen One (ha!) who must rescue the peasant folk from an evil tyrant. The film culminates in a dodgy CGI dragon fight. It’s the kind of film where people don’t die but rather “pass from this world”. The ‘olde’ English script is a mess of archaic jargon. Lundgren makes a moronic leader, something clearly omitted from the prophecy.

Scott Pilgrim vs. the World

(2010, US, Big Talk Films)

Dir. Edgar Wright; Pro. Edgar Wright, Marc Platt, Eric Gitter, Nira Park; Scr. Edgar Wright, Michael Bacall; Action Dir. Peng Zhang; Cast Michael Cera, Alison Pill, Mark Webber, Johnny Simmons, Ellen Wong, Kieran Culkin, Anna Kendrick.

112 min.

Hyper-kinetic big budget American debut for Edgar Wright – without longtime collaborator Simon Pegg – who somehow scrambles an ambitious, eclectic and surreal masterpiece with indie sensibilities past the gaze of a major American studio.

Famed for his satirical Brit-coms Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz, this epileptic delight feels more like his quick-fire sitcom Spaced in its deadpan delivery and chaotic knack of mixing the sublime with the ridiculous. Few contemporary comic book adaptations revel so richly in cult appeal that you can’t help but applaud the film’s brash, unapologetic vigour.

There is simply no let up in both sassy comedy and cartoon japery as the movie follows dweebish uni grad’ Scott Pilgrim (the excellently understated Cera), a bass playing romantic who dumps the obsessive Knives Chau (Ellen Wong) in favour of kooky bright haired bombshell Ramona (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), but only on one condition. In order for them to date, Pilgrim must defeat all of her evil ex’s in bouts of Streetfighter-esque combat, which won’t be easy, considering one of them – as a romantic gesture – punched a hole in the moon. “Why does everything have to be so complicated?” complains Scott as another fantastical ex-amore reveals themselves to have supernatural powers of telekinesis, or spontaneous acts of kung fu prowess.

Wright creates a crazy hybrid of indie teen comedy and fantasy action, contemporising his favourite video game tropes for a modern audience, much like he did with zombie cliches for Shaun of the Dead. If there can be any criticism it is that he maybe plays it too personally with eclectic references which may not sit comfortably with all viewers. That’s certainly not a criticism one could label at the mass appeal of this film’s contemporary, Kick-Ass, which looks like Driving Miss Daisy in comparison.

Here, a fuzzy garage rock soundtrack sits beside Nintendo 8-bit audio, characters are given scorecards and health bars like arcade characters, and words continually appear on screen like old episodes of Batman. During combat scenes, fighters deliver video game combos and explode into pools of coins. One fight scene is entirely replaced by a bass battle like the bonus level on Guitar Hero.

The film is far too wild to ever be deemed irksome. It is such a surprising enigma that you should quite rightly criticise every other film for being utterly boring in comparison.

Mr. Vampire

(1985, HK, Bo Ho Films/Golden Harvest)

Dir. Ricky Lau Jun-wei; Pro. Sammo Hung Kam-bo; Scr. Barry Wong Ping-yiu, Roy Szeto Wai-cheuk; Action Dir. Lam Ching-ying, Yuen Wah; Cast Lam Ching-ying, Chin Siu-ho, Moon Lee Choi-fong, Pauline Wong Siu-fung, Ricky Hui Kun-ying, Billy Lau Nam-kwong, Wu Ma.

93 min.

A smash hit movie, Mr. Vampire has developed a cult following over the years. The unique blend of supernatural horror, comedy and kung fu – the first success of its kind – created a new subgenre of its own, and the cash-ins and sequels quickly followed. But this is the original, and still the best.

Lam Ching-ying plays a Taoist priest and master of young disciples Chin Siu-ho and Ricky Hui, whose decision to harbour a wealthy man’s deceased father overnight quickly turns into a nightmare. Over the years the decaying corpse turns into a nasty Chinese vampire, now resurrected and hopping about the streets in Ming Dynasty costume. The priest has enough magic to keep the fiend at bay, but soon the vampire’s son is infected, and then his pupil Ricky Hui starts turning pale and growing his fingernails.

The most interesting subplot involves Chin Siu-ho’s relationship with a female ghost (Pauline Wong) who casts him under her spell, gives him creepy love bites and takes him back to her place. The priest is quick to work his skills, exploding the ghost’s flying head with a glow-in-the-dark dagger.

There is a great balance between the suspense of the horror scenes and the film’s spirited humour, best demonstrated in a scene where the leads evade capture by holding their breath, with a member of the walking dead sniffing furiously inches from their face.

Fun all the way, this one is difficult not to like.

The Killer Meteors

(1976, HK, Lo Wei Motion Picture Co.)

Dir. Lo Wei; Pro. Lo Wei; Scr. Ku Lung; Action Dir. Jackie Chan; Cast Jimmy Wang Yu, Jackie Chan, Hsu Feng, Chan Wai-lau.

99 min.

Top knot hairstyles and colourful garments adorn this period chopsocky, a hopelessly convoluted Lo Wei picture that finds Wang Yu as the indestructible Killer Meteor who waves around a secret, all-powerful weapon. He keeps it strapped to his back and staunchly under wraps, despite the fact it looks alarmingly similar to a long stick.

A young Jackie Chan is poisoned by his domineering wife, and Wang Yu is the only one capable of retrieving the antidote. In typical Lo Wei fashion, thousands of two-bit caricatures mess up the narrative, and the lack of decent kung fu makes this one a struggle. Still, the special effects are quite funny.

Death Machines

(1976, US, Crown International Pictures/MPI)

Dir. Paul Kyriazi; Pro. Ronald L. Marchini; Scr. Joe Walders, Paul Kyriazi; Cast Ronald L. Marchini, Michael Chong, Joshua Johnson, Mari Honjo, Ron Ackerman.

93 min.

This starts promisingly: a robotic Oriental dragon lady engineers three superhuman assassins (one Chinese, one white, one black) to kill on command, but when a massacre at a karate school leaves one sole survivor, the cops hit the case and soon the ruse is up. She is constantly accompanied onscreen by an ear-piercing synthesizer, and if that doesn’t make you want to throw the TV across the room, then the lumbering action and redundant filmmaking should do it. This is so disturbingly void of any kind of redeeming features that if someone walks into the room when you’re watching it, you better have a good excuse.

Return of the Kung Fu Dragon

(1976, Taiwan)

Dir. Yu Chik-lim; Pro. Liu Shang-ping, Chen Wen-ho; Scr. Lee Ge-sun; Action Dir. Chan Muk-chuen; Cast Polly Shang Kwan, Cheung Lik, Chan Sing, Li Chung-chien, Sze-ma Yu Chiao.

83 min.

So, the kung fu dragon returns (when did he go away?) in such a stock title you wonder whether the filmmakers merely placed all chopsocky clichés in a hat and picked them out at random. Descendents of the former royal guards of Phoenix Island are viciously usurped by a magical warlord capable of awesome kung fu tricks, mostly involving a smoke machine. He’s so badass he even employs a minion to carry his beard. The descendents unite to take down the evil doers and rid the warlord of his sacred Dragon Stick, seemingly the source of his super powers which he uses for a telekinetic version of chess boxing as our hero tries to look cool in an orange shirt. Speaking of costumes, the wardrobe department appear to have based most of their attire on the villains from Star Trek. The film’s complete lack of coherency is fabulously endearing. It’s barking nonsense. You would get more sense talking to a cat.

The Magic Blade

(1976, HK, Shaw Brothers)

Dir. Chu Yuan; Pro. Runme Shaw; Scr. Ni Kuang; Action Dir. Tong Gaai, Wong Pau-gei; Cast Ti Lung, Lo Lieh, Ku Feng, Tang Ching, Cheng Li, Lily Li Li-li, Fan Mei-sheng, Tien Ni.

97 min.

Fantastic sword and sorcery from Chu Yuen, an adaptation of a Gu Long wuxia novel. The film is often credited for being one of the first wuxia-horror crossovers, although the Shaw Brothers dabbled with the supernatural years before with their lame Hammer co-production Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires. This is a sharper, more atmospheric and gimmicky caper, bristling with imagination and similar in shocks to something like Kaneto Shindo’s Onibaba.

Ti Lung is tremendous as wandering swordsman Fu, who borrows a poncho and five o’ clock shadow from Clint Eastwood and a spinning steel tonfa sword from Shaw Brothers’ barmy weapons cache. Fu tracks down the killer of his sifu – the extravagant Master Yen (Lo Lieh) – but before he has the opportunity to kill him, he ends up fending off a pair of hired hitmen also after Yen’s head. In a somewhat illogical if chivalrous decision, Fu becomes Yen’s protector when the mysterious and secretive Master Yu hires a barrage of underworld killers to bump the two of them off.

Yu wants possession of the ‘Peacock Dart’. It’s essentially a basic household strainer found in a steam cooker, but once detached, one of the metal leaves can cause a spontaneous explosive chain reaction which kills just about everyone in the room. Yu hires a random assortment of spooks in his mysterious quest for martial supremacy, including the toothless cannibal witch Devil Grandma and a bizarre eunuch warrior.

The fight scenes are never less than innovative; great constructions of spiralling absurdity where swords clash and fighters fly. And amongst the carnage, Gu Long slips in a wry metaphor about the corrupting influence of martial art through the pursuit of wealth, power and status. A great movie.

The Bride with White Hair

(1993, HK, Mandarin Films)

Dir. Ronny Yu Yan-tai; Pro. Ronny Yu Yan-tai, Raymond Wong Bak-ming, Michael Wong; Scr. Ronny Yu Yan-tai, Lam Kei-to, David Wu Tai-wai; Action Dir. Phillip Kwok Tsui; Cast Brigitte Lin Ching-hsia, Leslie Cheung Kwok-wing, Elaine Lui Siu-ling, Francis Ng Chun-yu, Yammie Nam Kit-ying, Eddy Ko Hung.

90 min.

Eclectic, dazzling and mystifying, the fantasy eroticism of The Bride with White Hair is enough to send even the harshest critic into a tailspin. Effortlessly cool and with spellbinding visuals, Peter Pao’s cinematography coupled with Ronny Yu’s fast-paced direction is guaranteed to make your eyes burst, and the sensitive story of love and loyalty, rivalry and trust, will make your heart bleed for our protagonists. All of which is played out in a demonic fury of electrifying gimmickry and martial arts action.

A Romeo and Juliet romance, Leslie Cheung plays Yi-hang, a reclusive warrior who resides atop a mountain and dictates our story through flashback. He talks of being a young boy, learning the swordsman’s craft, preparing to fulfil his rightful position at the head of the Chung Yuan group of eight leading clans. Age brings wisdom and Yi-hang decides to turn his back on his martial ways and live out the rest of his days in a secluded paradise with his new nameless love (Brigitte Lin).

As his childhood sweetheart, Lin plays a beautiful warrior with razor-sharp kung fu and a whip that can chop a man to pieces. The two become lovers, spinning slow-mo in an underground whirlpool, where Yi-hang christens her with the name Lien Ni-chang. They belong to different sects, of course, so a proverbial spanner is thrown in the works.

Ni-chang was raised by wolves (no, really), looked upon as a witch, belonging to a strange evil cult masterminded by Chiu Wu-shuang – a back-to-back Siamese twin whose sexual longings for Ni-chang are sneered upon by his conjoined sister. The bizarre double act cause an inevitable rift between the lovers. Vengeful toward Yi-hang for loving Ni-chang, Chiu launches an all out massacre on the masters of Chang Yuan, killing Yi-hang’s sifu in the process. When Ni-chang sacrifices herself for the common cause, she turns into a symbolic ghost of her former self, with extendable white hair to grapple with her victims.

It sounds mad, but Brigitte Lin somehow makes it believable; her enchanting performance drives the movie, looking truly special in her ghostly white robe and grey locks. The fantasy elements (particularly in the finale) seem reminiscent of A Chinese Ghost Story (to draw an obvious comparison), but this is a much darker and powerful fable, and certainly one of the best films to come out of Hong Kong.

The Five Venoms

(1978, HK, Shaw Brothers)

Dir. Chang Cheh; Pro. Mona Fong Yat-wa; Scr. Chang Cheh, Ni Kuang; Action Dir. Lu Feng, Liang Ting, Robert Tai Chi-hsien; Cast Chiang Sheng, Sun Chien, Phillip Kwok Tsui, Lo Meng, Lu Feng, Wei Pei, Johnny Wang Lung-wei.

97 min.

Chang Cheh’s seminal work caused a stir when it was first broadcast on late night TV in America. Hooking into a mass youth appeal, the film spawned merchandise, cartoons, rip offs and follow ups, thus becoming possibly the most widely seen Shaw Brothers movie in the studio’s history.

Frankly, the film is quite kitsch and campy, and far from Chang’s best work. Yet The Five Venoms relishes every second of its distinct quirkiness, and although slightly too abstract for any sort of mainstream appeal, the film’s standing as a cult favourite and kung fu movie classic is for the most part well deserved.

Credited for launching numerous careers (Wang Yu, David Chiang, Ti Lung, Fu Sheng), Chang Cheh presents us with a new breed of kung fu stars – his third generation of stalwarts now known collectively as the ‘Venoms’. It’s a great cast, and the onscreen chemistry is charming, even if loveable beggar Chiang Sheng is given an elevated role as the film’s main protagonist.

As a dying wish from his old sifu, he has to disband the deadly Poison Clan before their venomous, greedy ways inflict more harm on both the people and the state. The Toad, the Lizard, the Snake, the Centipede and the Gecko are all masters of their own bizarre styles, but none of the Venoms know each other and Chiang hasn’t got a clue either. He pledges allegiance with iron man Toad (Lo Meng) and good cop Lizard (Phillip Kwok) in order to hunt for the rest, and their treasure grabbing antics soon give themselves away.

The Five Venoms also established Chang Cheh’s new take on the kung fu genre, altering his style from sweeping historical epics to garish, colour saturated yarns with more gimmicks and an even greater emphasis on brooding, redblooded males (there’s not a single female in the cast).

The actors would continue to prosper in other Venom related efforts, but this is the original and still the quintessential late night favourite.

AKA: Five Deadly Venoms

Fist of the North Star

(1995, US, Warner Bros.)

Dir. Tony Randel; Pro. Aki Komine, Mark Yellen; Scr. Tony Randel, Peter Atkins; Action Dir. Winston Omega; Cast Gary Daniels, Malcolm McDowell, Costas Mandylor, Chris Penn, Downtown Julie Brown, Dante Basco.

103 min.

The grisly Japanese comic book and anime Hokuto no Ken was always going to be a tough concept to bring to life, what with its epic post-apocolyptic scope, larger than life characters and extreme violence. Herein lies the crux of the film’s problem. Inevitably, Randel gives us a gory He-Man; a cheap studio based fantasy with shoddy sets and two-bit caricatures. Randel’s lowkey lighting and Malcolm McDowell narration are not nearly as atmospheric as they ought to be, coming across more like crass sci-fi clichés. The film’s singular grace is a collection of semi decent scuffles, particularly near the end.

Daniels is Kenshiro, the only warrior capable of bringing down Lord Shin (Mandylor), an evil dictator who kills Ken’s father, kidnaps his girlfriend and tries to take over the world. Kenshiro can make people’s heads explode and Shin’s trick involves penetrating rivals with his glowing hands.

AKA: Hokuto No Ken