January is here, and so too are a few films beginning with Johnnie To but not ending there.
At one time Frances and I watched many many martial arts films, but we had not watched one for quite a while until recently when we viewed Johnnie To's The Bare-Footed Kid (1993). This is a remake of the Shaw Brothers' Disciples of Shaolin (1975), and it is okay. The film has a familiar blend of humour and tragedy. The ending is, perhaps, not what we might enjoy at this time. But both Maggie Cheung and Lung Ti are attractive actors, and the shoes are interesting. Strangely, the final sequence reminded me of the final sequence in Kurosawa's Throne of Blood. The choreography is rather overwhelmed by the camera work and editing, and the wire work appears sparingly but cleverly. All in all, the eighty minutes with this photoplay are eighty minutes we spent not disagreeably.
Running Out of Time (1999), directed by Johnnie To. The prolific Johnnie To delivers a smart American-style heist film starring the forever young Andy Lau as Cheung, a mysterious cat burglar who has just two weeks to live. During those two weeks, Cheung carries out a cat and mouse game with the police, especially Inspector Ho Sheung-Sang (Ching Wan Lau), and gangsters who are trying to acquire a special piece of jewellery. The film turns on the clever tricks of Cheung as he leads his various adversaries on wild goose chases. Cheung is elusive and good with disguises. He is meticulous in his planning. As the action rolls along Cheung and Inspector Sheung-Sang find themselves becoming buddies. The film is agreeable, although do not expect much above the ordinary here. Characters are, perhaps, somewhat underdeveloped, but we know enough about them to keep us watching. Chief Inspector Wong Kai-fat (Shiu Hung Hui) provides the comic relief. The film begins with Cheung standing on the edge of a high-rise building, and the image sets us up for a story in which characters are on the edge, as it were, in vertiginous and precarious situations. Now for Running out of Time 2.
Running Out of Time 2 (2001), directed by Johnnie To and Wing-Cheong Law. This sequel is predictable, but pleasant enough. Ekin Cheng, as the Thief, takes over from Andy Lau in the role of Inspector Ho’s adversary. The Thief is not only a thief, he is also a magician, making for a few spectacular escapes from the law. Lam Suet is comic relief, along with the intrepid Assistant Commissioner Wong Kai-fat (Shiu Hung Hui), returning from the first film. Lam Suet plays a hapless policeman named Ken, who cannot win a game of coin toss to save his life. 372 times a coin tossed by the Thief turns up tails, and 372 times Ken calls heads. This film also boasts a night time sequence in the rain in which Ho chases the Thief, the two of them on bicycles. This is perhaps the best sequence in the film, and it demonstrates the connection between the two men. As sequels go, this one is not bad, although it does not have the tension of the first Running Out of Time. Once again, characters and relationships are underdeveloped, especially the relationship between Ho and Insurance Officer Teresa (Kelly Lin). Taking a cue, perhaps, from the first Die Hard movie, this film ends with a nod to Christmas. I might add that the Thief’s motives in what goes on remain rather foggy.
First Love (2019), directed by the redoubtable Takashi Miike. Takashi Miike has directed well over 100 films, this one being his 103rd, and many of them are audacious and radical: Sukiyaki Western Django (2007), Big Bang Love, Juvenile A (2006), Izo (2004), Ichi the Killer (2001), and the delirious Audition (1999), for example. First Love is fun, but hardly radical. It tells the story of young love blossoming between a young boxer who thinks he has a brain tumour and a young prostitute strung out on cocaine, both of whom find themselves embroiled in a war between the cops, the yakuza, and the triad. Through all this we have beheadings, a shotgun wielding one-armed godfather, a harpy of a woman who wields anything she can get her hands on and clobbers just about anything nearby, two who square off with samurai swords, beatings, knife fighting, shooting, and general mayhem followed with a car escaping from a warehouse in animated splendour. I almost forgot to mention the hallucination: a man wearing only glasses and white underwear shorts who appears with some regularity throughout. While this is humorous and engaging, it is not really new.
Shadow (2018), directed by Zhang Yimou. As with Yimou's Hero and House of Flying Daggers, Shadow dazzles with its cinematography. Shot mostly in monochrome, with flesh colour and blood colour resonating in all this monochrome, the film takes on a shadowy cast. And then there is the rain, lots of rain, rain every time a character steps outside. The rain defeats any fire wanton enough to try and gain purchase. The Shadow stands alone, gaining substance in the battle that extends beyond three rounds. The characters in this film are perhaps less compelling than those in Hero and House of Flying Daggers, but the umbrellas are like nothing you have seen before. I know, we have The Flying Guillotine movies, and those guillotines have some similarity with the umbrellas here, but they are so much more serving as weapons, shields, boats, and plain umbrellas. The umbrella dances are reminiscent of what goes on in Kung Fu Hustle, but again, this film strikes its own chord.
Cliff Walkers (2021), directed by Zhang Yimou. Watching this film, I was reminded of Zhang’s film Hero (2002), not because the films are particularly similar in story and setting and character, but because both films take a party line. Both films celebrate the resilience of the people and the strength of the nation. Cliff Walkers deals with the Japanese invasion in the early 1930s, and follows the efforts of four Chinese spies to infiltrate the enemy forces and rescue an important person. We found the plot convoluted and difficult to follow in detail, although the broad outline was clear enough. Often, we see a street scene in winter with a collection of many wires criss-crossing above the street, and these wires are a nice indication of the intricacy of the action. The Japanese are unpleasant executioners, seemingly oblivious to human life as they spew alcohol on those they are about to execute with nary a hesitation and hardly even a look as they shoot their victims. They also torture people in ugly ways. The four spies are heroic and self-sacrificing. They are also stylish in their fedoras and furs. The film opens with the four landing in the snowy countryside, and we have impressive shots of snow and cold. As we expect from Zhang, everything looks artistic and carefully choreographed. I’m not sure, but this film may have more style than substance.
Journey to the West: Conquering the Demons (2013), directed by Stephen Chow and Chi-Kin Kwok. Stephen Chow has imaginative exuberance. We have seen this before in such films as Shaolin Soccer (2001) and Kung Fu Hustle (2004), but in Journey to the West Chow outdoes his past exuberances. This is a lavish CGI-filled romp with creatures and transformations and wild fights. It begins with a twenty-minute scene in which a water demon, a huge fish with long tentacle and short legs, terrorizes a riverside community, even swallowing a baby. Then we have the huge wild boar, and the short feisty Monkey King. The film is pretty much non-stop frenetic action. It is also warm and human. Aspiring Buddhist hero, Xuan Zang (Zhang Wen) avoids earthly temptations, including earthly love. He falls in with Miss Duan (Shu Qi), a more formidable demon hunter. She finds Xuan attractive, but he avoids her. Of course, love will prevail and Xuan’s transcendent love will find itself folded into a love for Miss Duan. Along the journey, we also have Chow’s attraction to common people. He gives us an assortment of village people and unpretentious people just trying to survive in a world fraught with demons. We also have Xuan’s most important possession, a book of 300 Nursery Rhymes. This is an exuberant film executed with affection. (You might find it on Tubi)
