Once Upon a Time in China Parts 1, 2, 3 (Tsui Hark, 1991, 1992, 1993)

A Chinese feast

(Warning: story discussed in explicit detail)

Cantonese folk hero Wong Fei-hung has no real equivalent in other cultures -- what if Abraham Lincoln could kick so high hard fast his leg would leave no shadow? What if Jose Rizal was not just an accomplished healer and martial arts master (he's both, plus naturalist, sculptor, poet, and popular novelist) but bald as an ostrich egg? What if writer-producer-director Tsui Hark retold Wong's long-popular exploits in epic form, arguably one of the high points if not the high point of Hong Kong cinema's golden age?

Tsui had wanted to work with Jet Li, ostensibly on an updated version of the Wong Fei-hung film series starring Kwan Tak-hing that he had seen on TV. In the back of his head tho he (and practically every one in Hong Kong) was focused on the city's transfer by the British to the Chinese in 1997, from democratic to likely autocratic rule; possibly the Once Upon a Time in China series is his imaginative projection, of a man with traditional values confronting, coping, even co-opting the sometimes chaotic changes in Chinese history. 

Once Upon a Time in China sets the tone. By the late 1800s stretches of China had been seized by different European powers: "Britain has Hong Kong. Portugal has Macao. Russia occupies Heilongjiang" muses Liu Yongfu (Lao Shun), commander of the Black Flag Army. Meantime he and some of his men have been tasked to fight the French in Indochina, and he has no choice but to ask Wong Fei-hung (Jet Li) to look after his remaining men while he's gone. 

The element that stands out in this first of the Wong Expanded Cinematic Universe (WECU) is that sociopolitical subtext. The West is a threat and source of racism (goes both ways, there are moments when the Chinese can be accused of xenophobia); the West also offers progressive medicine (treatment and surgery for wounds), industrial technology (the steam engine), arts (photography and cinema), and of course next-level warfare (guns and cannons). Thirteenth Aunt Yee Siu-kwan (Rosamund Kwan) sports European outfits and plays with cameras-- her clothing and equipment often spark hostility among fellow Chinese, same time a photo she took or piece of footage she filmed often ends up playing a crucial role in the plot. Eventually Thirteenth Aunt becomes Wong's fiancee, the rare time he shows interest in sex of any kind-- and with a Westernized Chinese. 

Enter Master 'Iron Vest' Yim (Yen Shi-kwan); destitute despite his considerable skill, he hires himself to the Shaho gang for money and the chance to make his name-- but at what price? The gang collaborates with Americans to ship Chinese to the United States as prostitutes; can Yim work for them without soiling his hands? But Yim is already tainted-- when we first see him he's cadging leftover soup from prospective disciple Leung Foon (Yuen Biao). Yim has known humiliation and despair, what else is he to do?

All this being background to what we really bought tickets to see: wuxia action, in projected 35 mm color. Tsui starts off relatively low key, with Wong in the Pearl River Restaurant kicking Shaho ass-- the more inventive fight sequences in Hong Kong cinema often revolve around a premise or better yet a gag, in this case a man in a high-class restaurant urging his followers not to brawl while he himself deals out punishment left and right. 

The showstopper setpiece is a fight between Wong and Yim in a warehouse. Li had been injured when shooting an early sequence (when Yim runs down a bamboo ladder to engage with Li and Li breaks said ladder with his foot); Tsui was forced to use a body double. Resorting to long shots (to avoid closeups of the double) and having his combatants weild entire ladders instead of just fists and feet as weapons, Tsui reveals a flair for improvised choreography comparable to Fred Astaire's, if Astaire had a bigger budget and considerably bigger props. Yim and Wong perched vertiginously high turn the ladders into twirling stilts, tilting seesaws, slinging catapults. One moment the two battle on a tottering pyramid of bamboo; the next they're standing on dirt kicking up dust. Suddenly Tsui's camera pulls back to an unforgettable image: Wong with hands outstretched, one leg poised Kalilike at an impossible angle, neatly bisecting a corner of the screen. 

But Wong here is a one-dimensional hero-- it's only over the course of the series that we see him change-- while Yim is the fullblown tragic figure; when his 'Iron Vest' finally confronts Western rifles the outcome can only go one way, and Tsui ends this sad little parable on gun violence with Wong's hands stained a deep mournful red. Wong may succeed in fighting the encroaching foreign powers to a standstill, but it's Yim's hangdog face that lingers in the mind. 

Once Upon a Time in China at 134 minutes is the most ambitious of the series;  also the most scattershot, the intense combat sequences diluted with scenes of Rosamund Kwan's Yee Siu-kwan in constant peril (Tsui in trying to dramatize the horrors of human trafficking does his level best to sully 13th Aunt's honor without really sullying her honor).  With the tersely named Once Upon a Time in China 2* Tsui streamlines the story to a relatively brief 113 minutes, flipping the script from condemning foreign oppression to exposing Chinese xenophobia. 

*(The original Chinese titles are if anything even more practical, taking their cue from the Kwan Tak-hing movies-- the first title translates simply as Wong Fei Hung; the second roughly means Wong Fei Hung 2: A Man Should Improve Himself) 

The big bad opening this sequel is the White Lotus Temple, with one member-- a little girl-- raising her lantern against the dark. Suddenly there's light, and the camera cranes up to take in all the worshippers surrounding the girl. Men wrapped in white bite down on sparking incense sticks; Priest Gao (Hung Yan-yan) yells slogans while sword blades slide bloodlessly across his arms and throat, his chest swelling proudly as he shrugs off rifle fire. More setup of course; foreign powers threatened the Chinese in the first picture but here we face a native-born foe that seems even more formidable. 

Li's Wong and Tsui's camera make for a perfect dancing pair, swirling to Yuen Woo Ping's gliding choreography; when the White Lotus followers riot, Wong literally jumps into the fray with a folding fan: he spins he kicks he whirls; he holds the fan up to block a cloud of yellow sleeping powder. The camera (in contrast to cameras in today's action movies) simply stands there-- when you're witness to some extraordinary spectacle (Tsui seems to say) you needn't do anything more than watch; the audience will thank you for your clarity. Cut to Wong in his iconic pose, arms and knees stretched wide, camera zooming in low (corollary to the first rule: the slightest movement perfectly timed and conceived can elevate your partner's footwork).  

Arrives the real villain late in the game: Nap-lan (Donnie Yen) in his practice yard yanks a strip of wet blanket out of a vat of water, twirls it into a whip, starts slashing at the lanterns overhead; gives the fabric an extra twist-- Tsui frames muscled arm and dripping cloth in a powerful diagonal-- and suddenly Nap-lan is smashing rope-reinforced posts and exploding wood tubs. More setup, with Yen's lowering brow suggestive of a storm cloud approaching to unleash hell, and this little segment introducing us to Nap-lan's ultimate weapon (which, according to Yen in an interview, he had conceived and developed himself). 

Nice bit of business by the way-- when Wong approaches Officer Nap-lan for help the latter suddenly kicks a bamboo staff in Wong's direction and the two spar fast and furious. Wong whacks a post, jumps back; Nap-lan examines said post closely then breaks into a smile, all admiration and smooth courtesy. Unspoken: Nap-lan seized the occasion to study Wong's fighting abilities and (thanks to the evidence of the undamaged post) found it wanting. Curious, one of Nap-lan's men taps the post; the rope-wrapped tree topples over.

Was Nap-lan aware the post was damaged and decided on a strategic retreat? Clever clever man. Less emotionally knotted than Master Yim but again Tsui is streamlining.  

The action moves fleeter but so does the story: Wong meets Dr. Sun Yat-sen (Zhang Tielin) and fellow revolutionary Lu Haodong (David Chiang) at a British consulate; when the White Lotus attack the consulate Dr, Sun treats the wounded but runs out of anesthesia. He asks Wong for help and Wong jumps in with acupuncture needles to ease pain and allow Sun to perform emergency surgery-- a nice little demonstration of Western and Eastern medicine cooperating in a crisis. 

Meantime Wong challenges the White Lotus sect in their lair and one highlight of the visit has Wong fending off every single worshipper in the temple with an umbrella, his unique response to the gun (punchline: when Wong is done the umbrella's reduced to a nub). Wong stands alongside Lu Haodong, who is dismayed at the worshippers' apparently illimitable fanaticism (Tsui underscores said fanaticism with image after image of faces twisting and howling in slow-motion fury). "If the country is so rotten, how can we be saved?" Lu wonders in despair; Wong responds with laughter-- arguably the most cleansing response to extremism-- and challenges Priest Gao to a fight. 

Tsui's streamlining sends Wong and Foon (played here by Max Mok) fleeing into a high-walled dead end, forced to turn and face Nap-lan. Of course the night sky is growing pale (Wong must deliver a mysterious blue rag Lu has urged on him to Dr. Sun, who's scheduled to depart in an early-morning paddlewheeler); of course Nap-lan will have no choice but to unfurl his Cloth Lance (he must silence all witnesses to his murder of the British consul, and he knows Wong is a daunting opponent).

David Bordwell in Planet Hong Kong notes that wuxia films often stretch but don't break the laws of motion. I like to think Tsui and his fellow action filmmakers look at physics as a list of helpful guidelines, an ever-elastic membrane against which their combatants can crouch low then take off into the wild blue. Hence Nap-lan can channel his tremendous strength down a twisted length of cloth turn it into a twenty-foot extension of his arm; hence Wong's bamboo staff will not stand up to the Cloth Lance but once broken can approximate the Lance's whiplike action and fight back.  

What follows is like the endgame to an intense round of chess with the pieces reduced to a precious few, the remaining moves severely limited. Nap-lan's Cloth Lance misses and punches a hole through a wall; Foon attempts to widen said hole, is mortally struck in his chest. Wong is forced to literally step in, pinning the lance to the wall with his foot (cue burst of music-- the Once Upon a Time in China theme-- with Li's expression eloquently declaring "Enough of This Shit"). Can Wong's No-Shadow Kick counter Nap-lan's Cloth Lance? The results are surprising but ultimately elegant, and inevitable.  

The film ends with the mystery of Lu's blue rag revealed: the blue sky and white sun emblem of Taiwan. Yes the first Once Upon a Time in China was perhaps more morally complex** but I submit the sequel's finale resonates more, especially in recent years, especially with Mainland China continually threatening Taiwan's sovereignty. Surely Tsui and the pro-democracy tenor of his films have not endeared him to Mainland authorities, and I wonder if there hasn't been some kind of low-level campaign to if not actually suppress the films then make them difficult to access. Which makes the sequel's closing images pointedly daring if not foolishly quixotic-- but that's all right; I love crazy-stupid gestures. 

**(But is it really? Master Yim's circumstances inspire more sympathy but Nap-lan's stern demeanor suggests an inflexible lawman compelled to be cruel to uphold the law, like Victor Hugo's Javert. There's a core of nobility to Nap-lan-- he thinks he's doing right-- in his way as fanatical if considerably more dangerous than the While Lotus sect)

Once Upon a Time in China 3 (the Chinese title roughly translates to Wong Fei Hung 3: King of Lions) would be the last film where the essential crew worked together-- with 4 Jet Li would be replaced by Vincent Zhao and Tsui Hark would only produce (fight choreographer Yuen Bun directed); with 5 Tsui would return as director but Zhao would continue playing Wong. In either case one misses the grace of Li's tremendous kicks, captured by Tsui's elegant camera movements.

But back to 3: Wong and his followers are unwillingly pulled into a lion dance competition staged by the Empress Dowager and General Li Hongzhang (Ge Cunzhuang); along the way he encounters gang leader Chiu Tin-bak (Chiu Chin) and Chiu's chief thug Clubfoot (Hung Yan-yan). Wong even encounters a little romantic rivalry in the form of Tomanovsky (John Wakefield), 13th Aunt's former Russian classmate who's more than happy to rekindle their past relationship. This installment's script goes back to presenting foreigners as oppressive villains, with the Russians plotting to assassinate General Li, while Clubfoot's dedication to his boss Chiu and the gang represents fanaticism run amok. Another common tendency in Hong Kong pop cinema: if a third film in a series can combine the appeal of the first two it will.***

(John Wakefield in an interview describes how the script seemed to be cobbled together, with lines handed to him a half hour before shooting; I submit the exception might be Once Upon a Time 2, with its relatively compact story)

Not my favorite but hardly the worst. Tsui gives us at least one memorable setpiece based on an unlikely premise: what if the big bad eliminated the one fundamental quality of the world that Wong unquestioningly depends on, friction? Chiu laughingly invites Wong over for tea, and Wong-- ever the straight shooter-- accepts, even when he knows the invite is a trap. Inside Chiu promptly orders nets dropped over the windows, great jugs of wine smashed on the floor-- which turn out not to contain wine but oil (Chiu's manufacturing sideline); thugs armed with hatchets and swords and spiked shoes attack. Tactics worthy of Sun Tze I submit, though Wong responds with equivalent inventiveness (stepping on a spiked thug's feet for one, then forcing him to fight like an unwilling marionette) and really just an excuse to demonstrate more eyepopping fight choreography, captured by Tsui's unblinking lens. 

Functioning as crucial supporting character supplying dramatic substance is Clubfoot, accidentally crippled by a horse stampede; Chiu throws him out of the gang and miserable and alone he has no choice but to crawl to Wong's people. Hung Yan-yan's approach to Clubfoot, arguably one of the most if not the most beloved character in the China series, is direct and intense and obvious-- we know he's meant to represent the kind of extremism Wong has encountered and fought against throughout-- despite which we still find ourselves moved. 

Then there's the subplot involving 13th Aunt where Aunt (in a self-reflexive gag evoking Buster Keaton's The Cameraman) accidentally records her old friend Tomanovsky up to no good, thanks to an abandoned movie camera (ironically Tomanovsky's gift to her) lying on its side. Tsui delivers the gag's punchline in a single frame: Wong, 13th Aunt, all their followers and family and friends watching the projected footage with heads tilted to one side, trying to make sense of the images.

Tomanovsky serves as plot function-- yet one more obstacle between Wong and 13th Aunt-- but also helps develop the latter's character. Where in the first film poor Aunt was a mere victim screaming for help in the second Wong teaches her a wrist lock she uses at a crucial moment, and in the third Aunt manages to not outfight but outthink her former classmate-- yes the movie camera records images but also does other things, as Aunt definitively demonstrates. 

The lion dance competition is appropriately spectacular but oddly and deliberately undramatic-- mostly an occasion for Tsui to depict the near endless variety of violence people inflict on one another for the sake of a prize, in this case a brick-size gold medal. When Wong (of course) wins the gold brick he walks up to the Empress Dowager and General Hongzhang standing on a balcony high above him. He had earlier tried to approach them about cancelling the competition to little avail but now, unbeaten and unbowed, has their undivided attention. "Who's the real winner?" he asks, hurls the brick at their feet, walks away. Tsui may offer nonstop entertainment but rarely forgets to inject the occasional pointed commentary to his narratives. 

The six films-- four and five are still worth watching, elaborating on the tension between East and West, tradition and technology-- are on Criterion Channel till the end of August (don't look at me; they've been there for months) after which their fate is uncertain (Good news! Parts 1, 2, 3, and 6 are still available). There are always the handsomely produced Criterion DVD releases but as I've said before, I doubt if the Mainland Chinese government is happy, and I'm sure they're thinking of if not actually doing something about it. If you haven't seen, I recommend them highly.