I haven’t read Journey to the West and I’m completely unfamiliar with the story line, so I can’t vouch for the accuracy of this adaptation of the Chinese Classic. However, if you’re looking for pure cinematic mayhem, Chinese Odyssey Part One and Part Two are as good as you get.
From: Hong Kong, AsiaRead The Full Review
Watch: Trailer, Tubi, Vudu, Buy on Amazon
Next: Life of Brian, Star Wars, Kung Fu Hustle
Ip Man is the honourable Chinese version of a Arnold Schwarzenegger or Sylvester Stallone. He has his own one-liners, develops his own enemies, and has some sweet martial arts moves. Best of all, Ip man isn’t even a fictional character! This Martial Arts treat is definitely worth a watch!
The films opens with a brief look at Ip Man practising Kung-Fu at home instead of attending a Kung-Fu competition in his local town. Unsatisfied with the quality of the challengers, one of the Kung-Fu leaders goes to visit Ip Man to challenge Ip Man to a secret fight. Ip Man’s wife seems pretty annoyed, but Ip Man assures her “it won’t take long”. Sure enough, Ip Man beats up the top Kung-Fu fighter in town with ease. Someone even ends up seeing the fight and tells the whole town about it to the annoyance of Ip Man and the local Kung-Fu leader.
There are two groups of enemies that Ip Man and his community encounter in this film. First there is a group from the north of China looking for people to bully. Later, there is the Japanese occupiers that suppress the Chinese population during World War Two.
The group from Northern China appear shabby. They are poorly dressed, unshaven, and slurp their noodle soup. As a result, the Southern Chinese seem more civilised and clean in comparison to their Northern neighbours. Maybe this director from Hong Kong still holds some grudges against mainland China in stereotyping these bandits.
Secondly, the Japanese come and disrupt the Southerners way of life. Their occupation is shown in the cinematography of the film, as the wide range of colours in the early part of the movie (reds, greens, browns) are switched for a lot of grey. The film looks more like a black and white movie at some points! The director uses this colour switch to emphasise the hardship and poverty under the Japanese occupation.
In addition to his portrayals of Southern China’s enemies, Director Wilson Yip has a load of incredible action scenes. The speed of the fights and clarity of the actors moves are truly awesome. It is like watching a beautiful ballet. Just pay attention to the fights as it must have taken a lot of takes and rehearsing to get all these moves perfect.
If you’re into action and/or martial arts, give this one a watch!
A Simple Life Film Difficulty Ranking: 2
This film is based on a true story, of a Chinese girl (Ah Tao) orphaned because of the Japanese occupation. We see Ah Tao as an old woman, having spent her life serving one family. Only one man is still living in China, Roger. We meet him sitting in an empty train station in remote China waiting for a train to take him back home. We first see Ah Tao wandering into a grocer’s refrigeration room to pick out some food.
Roger arrives home and we instantly understand his relationship with Ah Tao. He hardly acknowledges her as she places food in front of him. He even leans back and crosses his legs when she puts a plate in front of him, as if he is a high class businessman and she is a waitress. Next, we see her washing and hanging up his clothes. She even cooks Ox tongue for him (his favourite food) despite telling him it is bad for his health. She is like a mum that can’t accept that her son has grown up, whilst he is too spoilt to lose the benefits.
Their relationship only starts to develop after Ah Tao suffers a stroke in the opening minutes and requests to be put in a retirement home. His search for a retirement home is a quick insight into the retirement home business and Hong Kong society. The manager, a friend of Roger, admits that owning Retirement homes is a great business because Hong Kong has an ageing population that has access to social security payments. Also during Ah Tao’s stay in the home, we witness men begging for prostitute money, visitors that take away their gifts, and New Year celebrations. It becomes a microcosm through which we see Hong Kong society.
A Simple Life is a heart warming film. It centres around the relationship between an old maidservant and one of the ‘sons’ that she helped raise. Both are very sincere and reserved but still express their love for each other in ways that will make you feel happy. It will make you want to go pay a visit to your (probably) neglected older relatives.
As a parallel to the community of the Hong Kong territory in the 1980s, the walls of Kowloon City, the one-time densest populated living area in the world, served opposing purposes. To keep out and to keep in; to bridge divides equally as to rupture connections. An endless inspiration in media as an enclave in which culture can evolve independently, featured in the spread that encompasses manga, video games, painting and literature, it now marks the second-highest grossing domestic film in Hong Kong’s history.
Raymond Lam’s Lok leads Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In, the first in a proposed (and greenlit) blockbuster martial arts trilogy by Soi Cheang. A runaway refugee, desperately seeking board and security, finds himself under the support and practical tutelage of triad leader Cyclone (Louis Koo). He bonds with a small cohort of three other younger generational action talents to defend the sanctuary of the Walled City from the threatened invasion of Mr. Big (Sammo Hung) in a series of combative and political face-offs that turn familial, and thoroughly personal.
Twilight of the Warriors kicks off with an initial fight that may be its best, a multi-various cat-and-mouse chase with Lok on the run using every possible element at his disposal – yanked metal rebar slams into wood, scaffolding wrenched apart with makeshift blades, human beings thrown into concrete like CGI monkey limbs. What could be easily mistaken for vibes is Cheung Ka-fai’s seamlessly done edit job, choreographed between cuts and music, a balanced display of frenetic weaponry language that spontaneously creates new words.
It is immediately apparent that Twilight of the Warriors has two amazingly large graces, the second its inspiringly recreated production design work. Modeled after the original architecture, torn down in 1993, every lived-in detail about Cheang’s sets feel less as practical as they do authentic. Glances of printed copy, taped art and store shop advertisement go by while characters leap and fall between awnings and onto telephone wire, yet Cheang keeps a steady-enough alley-aligned view to give a sense of encampment that could never have been built overnight. The residents of Kowloon wear rags and garments in equal measure in a land where there is no outside, only the reconfiguration of value inside.
To make all of this out of Cheang’s aesthetic is entirely the point – to standalone, Twilight of the Warriors is book-ended by chapters of beginning and end to Lok’s journey, a sized-down epic that brings peasant into the coincidental alignment of civil royalty. This is the sort of drama that Westerners will easily align with Star Wars-types – a greater evil defeated, another protégé of said evil taking its place, the cycle continuing in formal ‘unrest’ fashion until the old guard is killed off, leading the way for a new guard to inhabit their trauma.
Tale as old as time, but for the modern Hong Kong (and broader Chinese) audience, Twilight of the Warriors hearkens to a stubborn desire, the kind that consciously fights in support of forgotten art. By the final climatic clash of Twilight, which draws on its protagonists to problem-solve their way out of a villain grown to American superhero-levels of untenable malevolence, Kowloon City has been in and out of beleaguered rule, torn between bureaucratic guards that all seek to support their own in a sanctuary bent keenly on living free from marginalization.
The cycle of evil self-perpetuates the cycle of good, as will the cycle of art and artists keep boosting Cheang and his contemporaries who want to put in the good effort to make an homage to cultural institution. Therein lies the philosophy of the once towering walled-complex – the sun never set on its story because it never organically rose there to begin with.
Seen at AMC Atlantic Times Square 14, Monterey Park
You must be logged in to post a comment.