Iron Monkey

(1993, HK, Film Workshop/Golden Harvest)

Dir. Yuen Woo-ping; Pro. Tsui Hark; Scr. Elsa Tang Pik-yin, Tsui Hark; Action Dir. Yuen Cheung-yan, Sunny Yuen Shun-yi, Yuen Woo-ping; Cast Yu Rong-guang, Donnie Yen Chi-tan, Jean Wong Ching-ying, Tsang Sze-man, Sunny Yuen Shun-yi, Yen Shi-kwan, James Wong Jim.

86 min.

Celebrated kung fu yarn set during the later Ching years and charting the adventures of a Robin Hood style superhero named Iron Monkey (Yu Rong-guang), whose concept of helping the poor by stealing from the rich doesn’t bode too well with the corrupt authorities who name Iron Monkey as China’s most wanted criminal.

Behind the masked vigilante’s disguise is Dr. Yang, a highly respected herbal doctor whose latest patient is a preteen Wong Fei-hung (played by a young girl, Tsang Sze-man). Fei-hung is the latest victim of a cruel governmental attack which sends his father, Wong Kei-ying (Donnie Yen), on a mission to uncover the true identity of the notorious Iron Monkey.

Tsui Hark’s frenetic approach matches Woo-ping’s style of camerawork and choreography, who links together a series of highly charged wire-fu sequences performed by the best in the industry. Great examples include a zany showdown with the movie’s real enemy – an unstable Manchu leader (Yuen Shi-kwan) – whose extendable sleeves and crippling King Kong Fists are met with the might of the elder Wong and Iron Monkey in a final kick-fest beset by burning poles and soaring embers. And if this sounds incredibly lighthearted, that’s because it is.

AKA: Iron Monkey: The Young Wong Fei-hung

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.

Ong-Bak: The Beginning

(2008, Thailand, Sahamongkol Film Co.)

Dir. Tony Jaa, Panna Rittikrai; Pro. Tony Jaa, Panna Rittikrai, Prachya Pinkaew; Scr. Panna Rittikrai; Action Dir. Tony Jaa; Cast Tony Jaa, Sorapong Chatree, Sarunyu Wongkrachang, Dan Chupong.

98 min.

After establishing an on-screen persona for himself as Thailand’s impressionable young country boy, Tony Jaa – the Mowgli of martial arts – immerses himself into a narcissistic historical epic in which he directs, produces and stars.

Having already won over the hearts of fight fans around the world with two blistering showcases (2003’s Ong-Bak, 2005’s Warrior King), we can perhaps forgive him slightly for pushing the boat out with this one.

It’s a follow up to his debut feature Ong-Bak which predates the original story by some 600 years. The link in narrative terms relates to a gold statue of Buddha – the head of which was blasphemously pinched by a criminal syndicate in the first film.

Here, the statue (head firmly in place) belongs to the ruling Ayutthaya Kingdom in 15th century Thailand. A young boy of royal descent is thrown into a feral wilderness to dodge a lunatic warlord attempting to seize power. He is protected, raised and taught to fight by a bandit gang after narrowly escaping a crocodile attack under the Neanderthal gaze of his former captors.

The young boy, Tien (Jaa), grows into a discernibly angst-ridden yet mildly compassionate twenty-something who leads the bandits into a head on collision with the corrupt and the corrupted, inevitably setting himself on course to learning some untold truths about his blighted past.

The stage is set for a grand finale, but in a daft anticlimax, the movie culminates in a frustrating cliffhanger, further adding to the endemically cursed nature of the film which wears the scars of its troubled production all too plainly.

During filming, Jaa – under duress from the Sahamongkol studio – disappeared from set after the film went disastrously over budget and way beyond deadline, leaving local investors to recruit Jaa’s long time associate Panna Rittikrai (rushing to finish the film Chocolate with JeeJa Yanin) to help save the film.

As a way of recouping its losses, the footage was edited to create another sequel, Ong-Bak 3, forcing some truly nonsensical plot twists along the way. The last half hour is a relentless barrage of Jaa-induced crippling, which is all quite exciting but does seem to be stalling for time, contrasting greatly with the delicate, non-linear back-story carefully created for Tien’s character.

Despite Jaa’s apparent breakdown, he displays promising signs as a director, taking great pleasure in staging his gratifying pugilism against a backdrop of gorgeous set design. Ultimately, though, it’s a complete mess.

AKA: Ong-Bak 2

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.

Bichunmoo

(2000, South Korea, Taewon Entertainment)

Dir. Kim Young-jun; Pro. Lee Tae-won, Yoo Jung-ho; Scr. Kim Young-jun; Action Dir. Ma Yuk-sing; Cast Shin Hyeon-jun, Kim Hee-seon, Jeong Jin-yeong, Jang Dong-jik, Choi Jin-hee, Seo Tae-hwa.

118 min.

Chaotic Korean swordplay epic, the first of its kind, utilising the skill of Hong Kong choreographers in a clash of cultural talent. Bichunmoo was credited for reviving populist interest in Korean filmmaking, but many other productions of the same period are considerably better (cop thriller Shiri being a prime example). Despite the length, first time director Kim Young-jun still crams far too much information into his film. It confuses more than it shimmers – a stark contrast to what the hype would have you believe.

The tale of a lone swordsman seeking revenge for his murdered family and lost lover is familiar territory – the emotional outbursts and flailing performances barely worthy to kiss Ang Lee’s boots. The action spins and somersaults with tremendous velocity, pointlessly at times, with an obvious sense of style over substance. Our hero can shake a sturdy sword, even whip the wind into a mad frenzy making his adversaries explode into clouds of dust, but you will find it hard to be won over by the film’s pretensiousness.

AKA: Flying Warriors; Out Live  

Chanbara Beauty

(2008, Japan, JollyRoger)

Dir. Yôhei Fukuda; Pro. Masanori Kawashima, Ryô Murata, Hideyuki Sakurai, Kyôsuke Ueno; Scr. Yôhei Fukuda, Yasutoshi Murakawa; Action Dir. Gô Ohara; Cast Eri Otoguro, Tomohiro Waki, Tarô Suwa, Manami Hashimoto, Chise Nakamura.

86 min.

Based on the hack and slash OneChanbara video game – the fan boy premise of which revolves almost entirely around partial nudity and a gory zombie invasion – this live-action version dares to add depth and character to a gratuitous franchise which, on the face of it, may seem like a wistful waste of time.

The film feels more like a gaming experience than a movie. The computer generated effects feature such high levels of bloodletting that most of the red stuff ends up splattered on the lens. Then there are the formulaic zombie set pieces which place central characters in a warehouse, then in an abandoned hospital, then in the villain’s lair, like different levels on a video game.

The fantasy figure of Aya – a bikini clad zombie-slashing anti-hero in a Stetson, part Buffy part Girl with No Name – is a purely fetishised gaming creation, sporting nothing but a red bikini and optional poncho with barely enough space to carry her swords. She even possesses supernatural special moves, like the ability to dodge bullets, teleport, and do a back-flip without losing her hat. Her sword embodies a purple lightsabre glow and causes mini nuclear explosions.

These fantasy elements make the film more Resident Evil than Dawn of the Dead, yet stylistically it has an interesting hybrid of fashions; a future vision of Japan resembling the old American west combined with the traditions of Samurai chanbara films.

The post-zombie-apocalypse theme seemed more existential in the great 2000 slasher film Versus. Here, there is no context to help explain the hoards of walking dead other than the kooky experimentations of mad scientist Sugita (conveniently, he’s the one who always appears in a lab coat). He spends his days with a Messiah complex surrounded by body parts, injecting life serum into the resurrected.

How he could possibly have orchestrated the end of the world is left unclear, as Aya and her wandering, nomadic cohorts have personal scores to settle. Reiko wears biking leathers and carries a sawn-off shotgun, nursing the psychological defects of having to kill her own zombie daughter. Then there is burly comic relief Katsuji who reunites with his long-lost sister only to discover she is now a kung fu zombie schoolgirl spinning a lethal ball and chain.

This is textbook geeky fantasy nonsense, mostly innocuous despite the film’s rampant blood lust. The film culminates in a sibling showdown which completely loses its mind, as Aya confronts her wayward sister in a barren, spaghetti western stand-off.

AKA: OneChanbara: The Movie; OneChanbara: Zombie Bikini Squad; Zombie Killer

Shogun Assassin

(1980, Japan/US, Katsu Production/Toho Film Co.)

Dir. Kenji Misumi, Robert Houston; Pro. Shintaro Katsu, Hisaharu Matsubara, Robert Houston, David Weisman; Scr. Kazuo Koike, Goseki Kojima, Robert Houston, David Weisman; Action Dir. Eiichi Kusumoto; Cast Tomisaburo Wakayama, Kayo Matsuo, Minoru Ohki, Akiji Kobayashi, Shin Kishida.

86 min.

A slice ‘n’ dice treatment on the first two Lone Wolf & Cub movies from the early 1970s, this is a commercially aesthetic international re-edit and, therefore, the most widely viewed instalment. You’ve probably seen this movie without even knowing.

The narrative is messy but as a spectacle it works just fine. The film centres on the iconic cinematic image of Lone Wolf, a lethal Samurai assassin, who roams ninja-infested terrain with Cub, his three year old son who is cased inside a lethal push chair rigged to the hilt with booby traps. The premise is both savage and heartfelt. Lone Wolf’s unbridled affection for his son forms a great contrast with the way he violently dismembers hoards of blade wielding baddies.

Lone Wolf mainly focuses his decapitation skills on a sprightly bunch of deadly lady ninjas and the superbly titled Masters of Death, resulting in blood, gore, and much of the same. The deaths are extravagant but stylish. It’s Kurosawa on a serial rampage, but with a kid in a pram, obviously.

Warriors Two

(1978, HK, Golden Harvest)

Dir. Sammo Hung Kam-bo; Pro. Raymond Chow Man-wai; Scr. Szeto On; Action Dir. Sammo Hung Kam-bo; Cast Casanova Wong Ho, Sammo Hung Kam-bo, Leung Kar-yan, Fung Hark-on, Dean Shek Tin, Lee Hoi-san, Tiger Yeung Cheng-wu, Yeng Wei, Lau Kar-wing.

92 min.

Imaginative, enthralling and action packed, this is Sammo Hung at the height of his powers, creating a riotous martial arts classic many would argue to be the greatest kung fu movie ever made.

All the genre hallmarks are here – revenge, loyalty, slapstick comedy, a narrative inspired by a real Chinese folk hero and a primary focus on one specific style. Sammo’s chosen folk hero is Foshan legend and Wing Chun master Leung Jan. Leung Kar-yan (in perhaps the best performance of his career) betrays his youthful looks to play the respected hero in his old age.

He’s the sifu of the buffoonish Chun (Sammo) and medical advisor to young bank clerk Cashier Hua (Casanova). After overhearing the evil Mo (Fung Hark-on) explain to his cronies about his plight to take over Foshan, Hua is beaten and hunted by Mo’s rabble of chopsocky misfits, forced to seek refuge with Leung Jan. Jan teaches the boy Wing Chun in order to combat his adversaries, eventually stepping up to take revenge when his master is slain in an intense tea shop brawl.

The cast is fabulous, particularly overlooked Korean actor Casanova Wong who was never given the opportunity to capitalise on his burgeoning success. The cartoon villainy of Lee Hoi-san (master of the Iron Bell technique), Yeung Cheng-wu (playing a long haired superkicker), Yeng Wei (a deadly spearman), and Dean Shek (an irritating clown) all offer stern support, not to mention the Mantis twitchings of Fung Hark-on who is eerily sublime.

The final brawl is an insane, extended climax – one of the all time greats – and although the entertainment value of this film has since been equalled, Warriors Two has yet to be surpassed for its sheer skill and audacity. Sammo Hung’s more revered 1981 film The Prodigal Son, detailing the early years of Leung Jan, acts as a prequel to this film.

The Heroic Ones

(1970, HK, Shaw Brothers)

Dir. Chang Cheh; Pro. Run Run Shaw; Scr. Chang Cheh, Ni Kuang; Action Dir. Lau Kar-leung, Lau Kar-wing, Tong Gaai; Cast David Chiang Da-wei, Ti Lung, Chan Chuen, Lily Li Li-li, Ku Feng, Chan Sing, Chin Han, James Nam Gung-fan, Lo Wai, Wong Chung, Yuen Woo-ping, Bolo Yeung.

121 min.

Sublime Shaw epic performed on a large scale with no expense spared on props, sets, costumes, extras and fake blood. Loosely based on the Mongol invasion of China, Ku Feng plays the marauding Lord Li commanding one of China’s many kingdoms with a little help from his sons, known collectively as the Thirteen Generals.

Biblical assertions aside, it is Li’s drunk thirteenth son, played by David Chiang, who becomes the group leader after slaying Bolo Yeung with a big stick, leading his brothers into missions of intrigue and espionage. The Lord’s disciples come unstuck when two of the troop turn Judas and attempt to steal the glory, steering their Mongol faction headfirst into serious trouble with a rival warlord leaving their kingdom vulnerable to attack.

Chang Cheh laments his fallen brethren with plenty of gusto, particularly when Ti Lung dies defiantly defending his master and when David Chiang meets a horribly grisly end, even by Shaw Brothers standards. But when Chang Cheh isn’t dwarfing his lens with great colour and movement, he is asking strong moral questions of his audience; a title heavy in irony and a cast of characters who (aside from a few moments of jaded loyalty) seem to possess very few redeeming features.

This successful film would set the trend for Shaw’s high concept direction into the 1970s and introduce a new team of talented actors and filmmakers with a fresh and exciting set of ideas.

AKA: Shaolin Masters; 13 Fighters

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.