Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000)

3 out of 4

Starring: Chow Yun Fat, Michelle Yeoh, Zhang Ziyi, Chang Chen, Cheng Pei-pei, Lung Sihung

Director: Ang Lee

Time: 120 mins

Following success with his Taiwan-made films The Wedding Banquet and Eat Drink Man Woman, Ang Lee made the leap to Hollywood, directing a string of critically acclaimed but very diverse films (how much more diverse can one get than with Sense and Sensibility, an adaptation of the Jane Austen novel; or The Ice Storm, the drama depicting two families' sexual values and repression in the 1970s; and, finally, the Civil War-era Ride with the Devil?). He returns to his Asian roots for Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, a historical martial arts adventure based on the novel by Wang Du Lu. Having been a favourite at various film festivals, with talk of amazing and breathakingly choreographed fight sequences, I was eager to see what the praise was all about. I've seen my fair share of martial arts films, and while I'm certainly a fan (besides the thrills, there's an aesthetic appeal to a well-staged fist fight, kind of like what you see during the group dance sequence in a Michael Jackson music video), I'm generally not too impressed with the development of so-called wire-fu, where wires are used to make the combatants leap and fly great distances. If used judiciously, wire-fu can be thrilling (witness Jet Li's work in the Once Upon A Time In China series or the genre favourite Iron Monkey), but more often than not, seeing someone "fly" in an unconvincing manner takes the enjoyment factor out of a good fight. Crouching Tiger is not your traditional Hong Kong martial arts film, where the plot usually takes a backstep to the fisticuffs. There is a complex story involving a precious sword, unrequited love, and a young girl's desire to be free of her constricting life. Interspersed into the story are several martial arts sequences, and while initially exhilarating, the constant use of "flying" lowers the believability factor, and ultimately, the excitement factor.

Set in historical China, Crouching Tiger begins with the arrival of Li Mu Bai (Chow Yun Fat), an expert swordsman, in security chief Shu Lien's (Michelle Yeoh) town. Tired of living the warrior's life, Mu Bai gives Shu Lien his Green Destiny sword to transport to trusted lawman Sir Te (Lung Sihung) in Peking. While in Peking, Shu Lien becomes acquainted with Jen, the young daughter of the local governor, who is reluctantly engaged to be married into another aristocratic family. One night, the Green Destiny sword is stolen, and Mu Bai is enlisted to help. It seems there is a powerful female warrior, known as the Jade Fox (Cheng Pei-pei), who is associated with the theft. The Jade Fox was also behind the death of Mu Bai's master. When a desert barbarian warlord, Lo (Chang Chen), arrives in Peking and disrupts Jen's wedding, Jen disguises herself as a man and runs away with the Green Destiny sword. Mu Bai and Shu Lien give chase, but even they don't know what Jen and the Jade Fox have in store for them.

Crouching Tiger has the feel of an epic film, especially in the beginning, but ultimately becomes a smallish drama focusing on Jen and her desires to live the free life. The repressed, almost formal, relationship between Mu Bai and Shu Lien, driven by honour, is in stark contrast to Jen's youthful petulance and pettiness. The narrative moves along relatively swiftly in the first hour, punctuated as it is with a couple of martial arts sequences, but then takes a bit of a right turn as it invests some time in explaining how Jen and desert chieftain Lo came to know each other. There are some tragic consequences near the end, but the finishing scene is oddly confusing and left unexplained, even though it seemed ordained to happen. Still, the story and production values are a step above normal Asian films, indicating the technical influence (at the least) that Hollywood has had on director Lee.

Crouching Tiger is not an action-packed movie, but what there is seems to have inspired the raves from festival audiences. The first sequence, involving a lot of wall-scaling and a riveting chase across rooftops, is thrillingly filmed and breathtaking, even with the obvious wire work. I was willing to let myself into the fantasy of these combatants actually trained in a style that lets them float across the air like birds. By the second or third "flying" sequence, however, the fantasy was wearing a bit thin. I don't mind the fantastic elements, but it has to be convincing (by contrast, the flying scenes in Superman the Movie were more believable). The final sequence, showcasing a battle through treetops, is almost laughable (and several people in the crowd I was watching with did laugh), especially as the warriors involved seemed to have a hard time balancing themselves (if they're good enough to defy gravity, why can't they stand still on tree branches?). I have always preferred the more natural kung fu styles that someone like Jackie Chan is involved in. A leap here, or an airborne kick there, is fine, but the overwhelming dominance of "flying" is ludicrous. There is one other competently choreographed fight late in the film, using swords and various weapons, but none of the confrontations approaches those of Jackie Chan or Jet Li in their best films. What's in Crouching Tiger is certainly better than what usually passes for martial arts in American cinema (Van Damme, Seagal, et al have a lot to answer for!), but it's not brilliant by any means. The choreographer, incidentally, is Yuen Woh Ping, who also designed the fight scenes in The Matrix and Charlie's Angels (and directed Jackie Chan in his earliest successes back in the late 70s).

It helps that Crouching Tiger boasts two (by-now) internationally famous Asian actors. Chow Yun Fat, who is well-known for his collaborations with director John Woo, has been in several Hollywood productions (The Replacement Killers, The Corruptor, Anna and the King) in the past couple of years that have tried to take advantage of his coolness and his ability to portray tortured characters. His Li Mu Bai is similarly torn, wanting to pronounce his love for Shu Lien but bound by honour and memory not to do so. Chow is not known as a martial arts star in Hong Kong, but his moves are fluid and convincing enough. Michelle Yeoh (who was in the recent James Bond adventure, Tomorrow Never Dies), on the other hand, is known as a martial arts star, and her fighting in this film is as impressive as ever. She's also a fine actress in her own right, and her portrayal of Shu Lien adds the right touch of gravity in the film's final scenes. The surprise is relative newcomer Zhang Ziyi, who plays Jen. She displays the right combination of ethereal beauty (she looks like a younger version of Gong Li), teenaged brattiness, impetuousness, and kung fu fleetfootedness for her role (even if some of the more difficult manoeuvres were done by a stand-in).

Ultimately, for all its martial arts choreography woes (or "wow factor", depending on whether you're an admirer of wire-fu or not), it was the story in the end that held my attention for its two hour running time. The lovely vistas of Chinese mountains and deserts, gloriously filmed in 2.35:1 panoramic widescreen, also took my breath away. In a sense, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is an Asian film that doesn't feel like an Asian film, helped by Hollywood production values and Ang Lee's fresh touch. Those of you not schooled in period Chinese martial arts films might laugh at certain scenes in Crouching Tiger, but I'm sure the well-constructed story, if not the martial arts, will draw you in. Just give it some time.

(c) Joe Wong (17 December 2000)