Unheroic Martial Art Missteps

Upon the urging of a reader -- and for the Gaza piece which was posted on this site last night -- I have been asked to share my thoughts on what might be best described as a cycle of revisionist martial arts films made in the past five years. Since what I am about to say differs from his own opinion, and that of at least one other very knowledgeable friend's of mine, I hope this post will generate non-scatalogical disagreement in the comments section. So let me begin with a film that I viewed for the first time, belatedly, to offer as thoughtful an analysis as I could: Hero.

Zhang Yimou's Hero (2002), a revisionist martial arts epic starring Jet Li, Tony Leung, Maggie Cheung and Zhang Ziyi -- a veritable who's who of Chinese art cinema -- was itself only belatedly released in the U.S., more than two years after its completion. Of course, when it did finally hit screens, the Miramax co-production did exceedingly well at the box office, confirming the commercial promise of the record-breaking Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000)While it goes without saying that box office success does not entail quality, it is still worth noting that few other foreign-language films have connected with American audiences the way that these films have. Ultimately, what strikes me about these martial art epics and parodies is the place that spectacle plays in their administration of pleasure. Upon its release, it seemed that much of the hype concerning Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon stemmed from the director's renunciation of computer effects in exchange for the wires that allowed the protagonists' to engage in combat on the tops of the trees. The exhilaration of flight, of soaring was key to the film's visceral impact, just as it is for Hero or Zhang's House of Flying Daggers (2004). There is a sense in each of these that the impossible is being depicted; the laws of nature are no longer impediments to these works of exceptional dexterity. Similarly it is this quality, dexterity, which fills the parodic work of Stephen Chow (Kung Fu Hustle, 2004): the impossible is euphorically brought to the screen, though it is here tempered by Chow's caustic wit and postmodern sensibility.

So, each's ability to produce a unique sensorial experience, to 'wow' its audience should be enough to commend these works, should it not? Well, with the exception of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (certainly overrated, but still pretty good) I would say it is now. Let us return to Hero.First, let us concede that there are certain spectacular scenes in the film: the zero gravity fighting, the cloud of arrows cutting through the sky, the absurd hand-to-hand combat abilities of the protagonists -- this is a film that has some "sick" action sequences, nobody will deny that. Surely, in fact, this is a film that follows the Sergio Leone (Once Upon a Time in the West, 1968, 'The Man with No Name' trilogy) model of genre revisionism -- which it references in its nameless protagonist: because it is a film about its genre, a mind-numbing, almost glib degree of skill is appropriate.

Yet, there is something to remember when one talks about a cinema that is inherently revisionist in its telos -- because it is a film about film history, it is inherently historic in its critique. In other words, for one of these films to possess merit at a critical level, it must come at a specific moment in the evolution of the genre. King Hu's revisionist martial arts classic A Touch of Zen(1969) does, the Leone films do, but it is hard to claim a similar importance for the Lee or Zhang films. (This was the same problem I had with Todd Haynes' hopelessly overrated Far From Heaven (2002): what exactly is the point of revising Sirk fifty years after the fact? And does the earlier film truly want for its recourse to subtext?) Okay, so these people defy the laws of nature, so women are particularly skilled in their films, so what? Neither genre revisionism nor feminism are exactly new to our critical discourse.

So we go searching for other qualities in these films. What we find in Zhang's films are a reactionary pro-Chinese sentiment propped up by its export exoticism. As with his Raise the Red Lantern (1991), Zhang seems to be directing his nationalist epics at an international art-house audience: Zhang doesn't stop at portraying his culture; he explains it to his non-acclimated audiences. Furthermore, Hero in particular belies a naivete when it comes to its political sentiments -- peace is held to be the noblest cause of all. In this, Zhang seems to support the acquiescences to a dictator so long as it means that one can go about their life unimpeded. Troubling sentiments for someone who lived through the Cultural Revolution and Tienamen.

While as a rule I advocate judging films not in what they say but in how they say it, works such as Hero emerge as something of an exception by virtue of the fact that their 'how' does not relate to their 'what.' It is not that Zhang's craft is invisible; quite the opposite, in fact. Rather, it is that the form is spectacle for its own sake and its political message, which is quite clear in Hero, is not integrated into the work's form. As such, a film like Hero requires precisely this mode of compartmentalized critique as this is how the various elements of its form relate to one another. It is on this basis that I criticize it and the other films mentioned, again save for Crouching Tiger.

Okay, so Kung Fu Hustle operates according to different laws itself, though I am no less unequivocal in my distaste for this much-hyped parody. If you want to know what sort of humor Chow employs, turn on Univision on a Saturday night, look for the cross-eyed dweeb staring at the buxom fake blonde, watch her scorn a number of hunky male model types for the wallflower, and there, in a nutshell, is the humor of Kung Fu Hustle's. Chow wraps this hopelessly over-the-top broadness in a cloak of postmodernism. And like Hero this gratuity adds up to nothing much at all.