The wuxia film is a long-standing
Chinese film tradition dating back decades – a martial arts swordplay film that
often incorporates elements of fantasy or mysticism into the stylized action
sequences. But many know the genre a little better by a Westernized name
associated with it: “wire fu,” after its combination of kung fu with impossible
stuntwork made possible by the use of wires (sometimes visible in the films).
Some of the classic films from the 1960’s and 1970’s made waves in the niche
market here, but it wasn’t until 2000’s Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
that the genre came into broader notice outside the circles of people who lived
and died for great kung fu films. But Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
came at the tail end of a renaissance of wuxia films coming out of China, Hong
Kong, and Taiwan, a renaissance that peaked in 1993, a year when nearly 20
films in the genre were released in those countries. And coming in at the tail
end of that year was the third excellent 1993 film in the genre starring Jet
Li, Tai Chi Master.
Following on the heels of Fong
Sai Yuk and its sequel Fong Sai Yuk II, Tai Chi Master crafts
a similarly structured period piece with our hero (played by Jet Li) working
through plots of political treachery and fighting for the underdog with
fiercely choreographed action married to comedy that at times lands firmly in
slapstick. In that bonding of action and comedy, they honor a filmic tradition
going back to Buster Keaton (minus the politics, of course) and avoid the dead
spots that can drag these things down – never bogging down too much in plot
mechanics (even when they get complicated) or sappy romance (silly romance is
more how they play it). So, there’s certainly no reason to take them too
seriously – they’re meant to be fun. And even though Jet Li’s character is in
all three films aligned with a political underground against a domineering and
violent ruling party, it doesn’t mean that it is necessarily an allegory
exploring anxieties of Hong Kong residents of what will happen to Hong Kong
when it goes under China’s control in 1997 in the wake of the Tiananmen Square
crackdown of 1989 – if so it’s certainly kept as subtext, never interfering
with the pure kinetic energy of the films. And maybe they’re not political at
all – the Fong Sai Yuk films are based on a legendary folk hero and Tai
Chi Master’s good and bad guys are strictly drawn as good and evil from the
get-go, there’s no nuance that suggests a deeper reading is necessary.
As always, the pleasure of the
films lies in its choreographed movement, often as intricate as the most
dazzling dance sequences of musicals, and its stylized approach to violence, as
exciting (and often funny) as any adrenaline-pumper out there. And one final
note ought to be given to the performances – Jet Li’s great turn as Junbao,
Chin Siu-Ho appropriately driven and sinister as Tienbo and the great Michelle
Yeoh as Junbao’s cohort in the underground group, in a typically smart, sly,
witty performance.
- Patrick Brown
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