Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon: Sony Pictures Classics
Rating: USA: PG-13/ Australia: M/ UK: 12

For years now, devoted Hong Kong cinephiles have known the wonders of the island nation’s film industry. We were on the cutting edge of a cinematic revolution that is just now reaching American shores—we were there for the emergence of John Woo, we were hip to the amazing feats of a Jackie Chan in his prime, we knew who Jet Li was prior to Lethal Weapon 4, and we’d seen the breathtaking fight choreography of Yuen Woo-ping before plunking down $8.50 to see The Matrix. Being a Hong Kong cinephile in America has been an interesting experience over the course of the last few years—it’s simply odd watching people champion Face/Off as Woo’s best film (or regaling me with stories of the infamous ‘Woo-isms’ that they’ve just discovered through his American work. Note to new fans—Woo was using doves as symbols in his films long before Face/Off).

This isn’t to come off as a pretentious Hong Kong film snob (because really, can there be such a thing? For a country that produces such exuberant, over-the-top cinema designed mainly to thrill audiences, I don’t think so…) because few people are more pleased than me to see the average filmgoer discover what I’ve known for years—that Hong Kong cinema is some of the most wild, inventive, and exciting stuff being made anywhere…including here in America. And while American audiences haven’t gotten hip to everything that makes Hong Kong movies so wonderful (Anthony Wong is still relatively unknown here in the States, as is Simon Yam), they’ve now learned of the joys of one of the island’s best forms—the period heroic martial arts fantasy, and they know of this thanks to Ang Lee’s new film Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (hereafter referred to as CTHD in the spirit of brevity).

Action legend Chow Yun-Fat (The Killer, Hard Boiled) is Li Mu Bai, a legendary Wudan swordsman who’s grown weary of the martial arts life. He returns home to profess his love Yu Shu Lien (Michelle Yeoh: The Heroic Trio) and hand his sword, the Green Destiny, over to Sir Te.

However, escaping the martial life won’t be so simple for Li—the infamous Jade Fox, a female assassin who killed Li’s master, is about and soon, the Green Destiny has gone missing. However, things aren’t quite what they seem—Jade Fox isn’t working alone.

The film also features an intertwining subplot (and I’ll leave how it manages to intertwine with the story of the Green Destiny for you to discover on your own—it’s no real mystery, but I think it’s better if the film is experienced rather than anticipated) involving a young woman named Jen (Zhang Zi-yi). Jen is from a well to do family, and set to marry. She meets Yu when she comes to deliver the Green Destiny for Li Mu Bai, and the two form a sister-like bond. Jen longs for the freedom of the martial life, despite the fact that Yu tells her it’s not as glamorous as the books would have you believe.

From there, the film becomes an epic Chinese fable—one filled with unrequited love found, then lost, betrayal, sadness, coming of age, and last but not least, some seriously fantastic action scenes.

Director Ang Lee (The Ice Storm) has crafted what has to be the most epic and visually arresting film of the year. CTHD doesn’t feature establishing shots—it features majestic visuals on the level of art. Ang Lee paints one breathtaking visual tableau after another—from an early wide-angle shot of Peking, to the vast emptiness of a dry brown desert, all the way through to hundreds of lush green bamboo trees swaying in the wind. It’s impossible to view the film and not gasp at the beauty of the images at least once or twice—they’re simply that good.

The film does seem to be a little unfocused in spots, almost too epic, if you will. Between the elaborately staged action sequences are long stretches of dialogue, and even an extended flashback that seems both overly long and slightly out of place. The two intertwining stories are good, but building each of them requires a lot of explanation that bogs the pace down ever so slightly. This is, without a doubt, a minor quibble at best, but I offer it up because I think it’s pertinent even if it is small.

The performances from the entire cast are excellent, but particularly from the three leads. Chow Yun-Fat shows why he’s one of the most versatile actors in the world today, giving a restrained but moving performance as the Li Mu Bai. It’s quite the change of pace from the conflicted hitmen and maverick cop roles that Chow is known for, but he does a splendid job playing the film’s elder statesman. It’s a powerful, graceful performance that will hopefully showcase this actor’s talents to an American audience who’s remained blissfully ignorant of his body of work.

Michelle Yeoh is a face that’s far more familiar to western theatergoers—she was a Bond Girl in the last James Bond film, and she’s been one of Jackie Chan’s steady sidekicks over the years. Yeoh’s acting here showcases a serious, more dramatic side than her fans are used to seeing. Sure, she kicks butt when the scene calls for it, but there’s more dimension and range to her portrayal here—be it the almost shy and innocent unexpressed feelings of love between her and Li, or the quiet longing that comes across her features when Jen expresses disdain for living the married life and having a husband. Odd that this role will probably do more to establish Yeoh as an actress with an American audience than her role in the Bond film—a role designed specifically to introduce her to American audiences.

Finally, relative newcomer Zhang Zi-yi does an impressive job playing the young, sultry, and headstrong Jen. There’s both an innocence, and a contrasting world-weariness at work in this character, and hitting two disparate character notes like this would be challenging even for an established actress. Zhang pulls it off with complete success, though—whether expressing love to the bandit Lo, or showcasing her longing to lead a free life to Yu. In fact, the scene Yeoh and Zhang share—where each talks of how good the other’s life must be, is one of the best scenes in the film. Both actresses portray more emotion and feeling through simple glances than they could in pages of carefully crafted dialogue.

The action scenes are about the only other spots where the film falters, and it falters ever so slightly there. Being a mythic period film, and filled with characters who are more than mere mortal martial artists, we’re treated to numerous sequences with some very elaborate wire-work (wire-work allows for actors to jump thirty feet into the air, or run across the tops of trees, etc.). The wirework isn’t an issue—it fits with the tone of the film. What is an issue is one of the things that’s come to plague Hong Kong action films in recent years—a series of fight scenes with some hyper-stylized edits that give the scenes a frenetic feel, but ultimately make following the fluidity of the action a lot more difficult than it should be. To be fair, this isn’t a recurring problem in the film—in fact, it only happens on a few occasions (most noticeably in the first fight scene between Michelle Yeoh and a masked female thief), but it is noticeable.

Still, this doesn’t manage to detract from the overall quality of the fight scenes themselves. Legendary choreographer Yuen Woo-ping (or Wo-ping, depending on what name guide you subscribe to) has crafted some amazingly intricate and thrilling action set-pieces that are guaranteed to show American audiences that many of their preconceived notions about martial arts films are simply wrong. The action here is fast and furious, and like almost every other Hong Kong martial arts film, it utterly shames the work of actors like Chuck Norris, Steven Seagal, etc.

Of course, Yuen had a talented martial artist to work with in Michelle Yeoh. However, I’ll be the first to admit that the idea of seeing Chow Yun-Fat in a martial arts film filled me with a secret dread (as it probably does just about everyone who’s seen the end of Woo’s Once a Thief). Much to my pleasure, Chow acquits himself quite well here—he looks comfortable with the sword, his movement is as graceful as his acting, and the performance is that much more credible because of it. Simply put, if you like action sequences, then this film has a great deal to offer.

Even at this relatively early date, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is receiving serious Oscar buzz in the Best Foreign Language film category—and it’s well deserved. This is a sumptuous and mesmerizing film with a few minor flaws that are totally negated by the power of actors Chow Yun-Fat, Michelle Yeoh, and Zhang Zi-yi and the beautiful direction of Ang Lee. I’m happy to know that thanks to this film, a whole bunch of American audiences are going to be exposed to the wonderful world of Hong Kong cinema and some of its biggest stars—and I’m pleased to know that some of them will come away from this experience yearning to see more of the island’s movies…and that is, as far as I’m concerned, always a good thing. Pay whatever it costs to catch this one on the big screen—it’s one of the few shining moments in a year filled with underwhelming films.




Recommended: Yes