Lo Wei
1971
Grade: C-
It is supremely difficult to discuss this movie in any meaningful way and divorce it from my childhood association with both it and its genre. We had a vhs boxed set which included this film which was a permanent fixture in the pine box that sat in front of our couch and housed our eclectic movie collection. Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan, Cynthia Rothrock, Jean Claude Van-Damme, Don Wilson, and Chuck Norris (just to name a few) were obligatory in a house of aspiring martial artists. Unfortunately, that copy was dubbed, almost universally an act of cruelty. Luckily, this morning’s viewing had the original audio intact.
While the movie suffers from many weaknesses that would evolve into genre cliches, there is a great deal here worth noticing. The first among these is the subtlety of Bruce Lee’s performance. Though he does conform in many ways to the silent stranger type who secretly outmatches all opposition, he rises above the trope and shows real skill. This is best demonstrated in the vast mileage he gets from his facial expressions and the dramatic final moments of the film. The shot of Cheng Chao-an(Lee) framed against the sky as he flails away at Hsiao Mi(Han Ying-chieh) is a powerful and lasting one. Again here it isn’t the punching which conveys Cheng’s rage, sadness, and loss, but Lee’s face as he vents upon the lifeless Hsiao Mi. This is demonstrated again only moments later when Cheng is in danger of loosing his cathartic fury on the wider world, and only the intervention of Chow Mei(Maria Yi) prevents it. The resignation on Cheng’s face as he surrenders to the authorities punctuates the surprisingly tragic ending, and is one of the two images from the film that had imprinted themselves on my memory since the first viewing.
The other involves the second character worthy of mention, that of Hsiu Chen(James Tien). His character, besides allowing the plot to restrain the revelation of Cheng’s fighting prowess for an extended period, is a heroic model and almost acts as a censure to Cheng’s disinclination to get involved. His death, though almost predestined narratively, was very shocking to me as a child.
One of the weaker elements of the film is its inconsistent tone. In a movie that is otherwise quite serious in both content and execution, there are strange moments of cartoonish levity that are jarring to say the least. Two examples jump to mind immediately. The first is during the uprising at the factory when the workers rise up against the foreman and the Boss’ thugs. Ah Kun(Kun Li), a mildly comedic character in his own right, strikes the foreman in the head and chest with a bar to absolutely no effect. This is played as a joke about Ah Kun’s physical weakness, but moments later one of the workers is hit in a similar fashion causing blood to pour down the victim’s face. In the same way, when Cheng is confronted after discovering the drugs and bodies in the ice factory, the battle is played straight in the main. However, when Cheng sends a thug through the exterior wall of the factory leaving a Looney-Tunes-eque human silhouette, the tonal shift is so abrupt that it left me wondering exactly what kind of movie I was watching. Now these things aren’t pervasive, and they by no means destroy the film, but they are wildly out of place in their moments and are certainly a cause for confusion.
Of course there must be made room for some discussion of the fights as they are in no small way the centerpiece of what the film chooses to focus on. As I mentioned, the plot of the movie does a good job of holding Cheng in reserve and building suspense for his entry into the battle. Film fight choreography was still in its infancy, and, avoiding the impulse to make modern comparisons, was inventive if repetitive. The film relies heavily on the 6 on 1, man versus mob, structure taking only momentary detours into the brawl(factory strike) and the 1-on-1 finale. Some wonderful filmmaking decisions are made here particularly during Cheng’s first foray into the fight. The use of dutch angles and sweeping camera movements emphasize how his transition from passive observer to active participant totally changes the balance of power in the movie. The distinctive audio and rhythmic pace of the fighting also adds a dance-like quality to the drama of battle. With the exception of the fight inside the the ice house, little use is made of the settings of these fights, and they are utilitarian if nothing else. There is some poetry to Cheng defeating Hsiao on the same field where Hsiu was murdered, but the interactive settings and elaborate set pieces are not yet genre staples(one of the most striking characteristics of Jackie Chan’s films). The filmmakers are also perhaps overly fond of the high-jump editing trick which endows more than one character with a superhuman leaping ability is used with a free hand, but seems out of place in the logic of the world even if it is very exciting to witness.
The movie is surprisingly tragic with moments of real sadness. The fights were lively with a tendency to repetition, and the lead thoroughly carries the full weight of the story. Though maybe not the strongest entry for the genre, a mandatory watch for a look at its history
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