Throw Down

 

THROW DOWN (To, 2004)

Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Sep 21, 2021

Review by Christopher S. Long

At first blush, Johnnie To's “Throw Down” (2004) appears to be the rare martial-arts movie in which nothing much is at stake. Cocky young Tony (Aaron Kwok) challenges the best judo fighters in Hong Kong not to seek revenge for a past slight or to restore honor to his family name. Nobody will live or die based on the outcome of these bouts; heck, there isn't even a cheap tin trophy cup on the line. Tony just wants to fight because it's fun, and the big goofy grin on his face when he has the chance to spar against a worthy opponent speaks of the sheer kinetic thrill of the moment, the rare opportunity to test your skills and feel alive, the chance to really just, well, throw down.

Tony particularly craves a match with Szeto Bo (Louis Koo), a celebrated former judo champion turned karaoke bar manager. Szeto, however, is mostly in grappling with his next glass of whiskey or pulling of his next scam, as he sinks deeper into depression every day. Tony tries to bolster Szeto's spirits (he needs him in peak fighting shape, after all) and is joined in the endeavor by the high-spirited Mona (Cherry Ying), an aspiring singer/actress eager for a life free of a manager who'd rather be her pimp. Szeto resists with a masochistic stubbornness familiar to anyone who has wallowed in their own misery for years, but Tony, Mona, and several supporting characters refuse to give up. Soon it becomes apparent that the stakes in “Thrown Down” are actually quite high - nothing less than the redemption of a lost soul.

To hurtles into each scene as if it's the only moment that ever existed, sometimes with disorienting results. Shortly after they all meet, Szeto leads Tony and Mona to an arcade where, for some reason, he insists that Tony play a Mortal Kombat-style game, something the young man does with his usual ferocity, attracting attention from the other gamers. The whole sequence then abruptly shifts into a heist, one that hasn't so much as been hinted at before, but Szeto knows his plan and the audience can just catch on at their own pace. Character introductions are handled with efficiency as well. We meet Mona as she blissfully slurps a bowl of noodles while being harangued by the furious landlady who has just evicted her, instantly establishing both her predicament and her personality with no wasted set-up.

The film also provides no obvious clues as to why Szeto is so depressed, until a sudden late revelation, and by then it hardly matters. OK, it matters quite a bit, but of far greater significance is the devotion of so many of Szeto's friends (some old, some new, all equally supportive) to his rehabilitation. Even the mobster Szeto rips off at the arcade wants to help and, oh by the way, he wants to fight too. Almost everybody in the movie is crazy about judo, a bit of a joke by the filmmakers since judo isn't particularly popular in Hong Kong.

While “Thrown Down” features several rousing judo fights, both one-on-one matches and chaotic mass street rumbles, its central appeal rests on its emphasis on the healing power of friendship. A charming sequence in which the three main characters join forces to rescue a red balloon trapped in a tree, only to immediately release it to the heavens, captures the true essence of this sweet and idiosyncratic film, a genre mashup both melancholic and life-affirming.

A relative lack of exposition (relative to Hollywood narrative, at least) may make “Throw Down” occasionally frustrating for viewers who always want to know why characters are doing what they're doing. But once you realize you can trust the filmmakers to be sincere, true both to the characters and to the audience, you can just relax and live in the moment, like the film does.

Video:

The film is presented in its original 2.35:1 aspect ratio from a “new 4K digital transfer.” The 1080p transfer is sharp with deep, rich colors. No noticeable issues with another top-flight Criterion transfer.

Audio:

The DTS-HD Master 5.1 surround track is clean and efficient, and sounds great even in some of the messy crowd/fight scenes. Optional English subtitles support the Cantonese dialogue.

Extras:

Criterion has includes several features for this release, some older and some made just for this release.

The collection starts with a 2004 interview (40 min.) with Johnnie To, in which he discusses the genesis and development of “Throw Down.” The disc also includes a 2004 “Making Of” featurette (11 min.) which is mostly a promotional film that doesn't offer too much insight.

The new features consist of four interviews conducted by Criterion. First up is screenwriter Yau Nai-Hoi who talks about how the script was originally a light comedy which To wanted to develop into something more nuanced. He also speaks about To's propensity to improvise on set. Composer Peter Kam (11 min.) credits To with a natural musical rhythm in his pacing of scenes, while echoing Yau's comments about To's preference for making changes on set.

Criterion has also invited two film scholars to contribute. David Bordwell (21 min.) speaks about some of the differences in the film's narrative and editing vs. more standard Hollywood approaches. Caroline Guo (12 min.) discusses how atypical “Throw Down” both in terms of genre conventions and compared to most of To's other work.

The extras wrap up with a Trailer (2 ½ minutes).

The fold-out insert booklet features an essay by film critic Sean Gilman, who discusses both the film and To's prolific output in the late '90s and early 2000s.

Final Thoughts:

Johnnie To also styles “Thrown Down” as an overt homage to Akira Kurosawawa, particularly his early judo film “Sanshiro Sugata” (1943). This only adds to the film's upbeat message. “Throw Down” is ultimately a great hang-out movie, with unlikely friends finding pleasure in each other's company, just chilling and helping each other out. Who wouldn't want to throw down with that?

Police Story

POLICE STORY/POLICE STORY 2 (Chan, 1985 and 1988)

Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Apr 30, 2019

Review by Christopher S. Long

Starting as a Bruce Lee imitator in the early '70s, then briefly flirting with Hollywood, Jackie Chan entered the 1980s looking to forge his own distinct on-screen identity in Hong Kong cinema. “Police Story” (1985) wasn't the first box office success for the prolific actor and director, but it was perhaps the first time the character that fans still think of today as the definitive Jackie Chan fully crystallized.

It was a difficult balancing act that took time to perfect because Chan was trying to fuse two disparate elements into a convincing and compelling persona. On the one hand, Chan's signature character is supernaturally graceful (simply directing traffic in “Police Story 2” he performs like a ballet dancer) and not at all shy about flaunting his mad skills. On the other hand, he's also a working class Joe just like his target audience, and a serial schmuck who can win any fight, but lose at just about anything else in life. He'll bob and weave and kick his way to victory through a gamut of a dozen pipe-wielding hoods, then take a birthday cake in the face, tossed by a girlfriend who is absolutely sick of his bullshit.

This seemingly paradoxical creation connected with fans throughout the world (though box office success in America would prove elusive for a while) and justifies the frequent comparisons made between Chan and silent comedy stars Buster Kearon and, especially, Harold Lloyd. Lloyd's Glasses character could sell himself as a klutz while also dancing deftly through obstacle sources, and as a social outcast who was still inevitably going to win the day and, of course, the girl. Chan upped the action and downplayed the romance, but his connection to Lloyd is undeniable, and was directly acknowledged when Chan himself dangled high above ground from a giant clock face in “Project A” (1983), sixty years after Lloyd rewrote film history by doing the same in “Safety Last!” (1923)

In “Police Story,” Chan plays Ka-kui, a rank-and-file Hong Kong police officer assigned to protect Salina Fong (Brigitte Lin), a secretary to and now key witness against crime lord Chu Tao (Chor Yuen). It's a thankless job (it only pays an extra $32 a day!) but Ka-kui has himself to blame. Chu Tao is only on trial because Ka-kui spearheaded a daring, reckless police sting targeting Chu Tao that also, by happy coincidence, wound up destroying an entire shanty town and also led to all of the big boss's henchmen being flung headfirst out of a bus window. Ka-kui has his own style, you see.

Chan directed and also co-wrote (with Edward Tang) “Police Story” and he relies heavily on comic relief to remind viewers that Ka-kui is no superhero, no matter how brilliantly he fights. Much of the comedy revolves around a series of ongoing misunderstanding with his girlfriend May (Maggie Cheung, two years removed from her beauty pageant days, and just at the start of a career that would make her one of the great international art-house stars of her generation.) Some of these scenes are tedious, others quite charming, with Cheung proving her own moxie in a few stunt scenes, including one where Ka-kui plucks her right off a moving moped and drops her on the street. An accident, of course.

Chan's characters make ingenious use of their environment, transforming innocuous objects into game-changing weapons or, at times, comic fodder. A snatched umbrella proves the key to Chan's jaw-dropping, physics-defying pursuit of an escaping bus. One of the best comedy sequences sees Chan gliding around the police station in a wheeled office chair, answering every phone and getting completely tangled up in the cords, a bit in which he once again finds a way to appear both inept and in total control of an elaborately choreographed routine.

“Police Story” climaxes with one of the great set-pieces in action film history, as Ka-kui takes down the entire crime gang one-by-one and, in the process, obliterates a helpless shopping mall. You've never seen so much shattered glass, the flying shards lovingly rendered in slow-motion. The piece de resistance is Chan's spiral down a giant pole covered in Christmas lights, a stunt so nice they play it thrice, making the canny judgment that viewers couldn't care less about have any so-called spell broken as long they get to see this impossible feat yet again. If you're curious, yes, Chan did burn himself badly in the process. Which only makes it that much cooler in Jackie Chan's universe.

Second-degree burns didn't keep Chan and Ka-kui from returning in “Police Story 2” (1988) with the same chief bad guy, now with a few different assistants. Cheung also returns as May, and gets some better comedy bits, including a hilarious sequence where she hectors poor Ka-kui all the way into the men's locker room at the police station, her righteous fury preventing her from noticing the men in various states of undress cowering to hide their embarrassment.

The sequel delivers most of the same goods, and if it doesn't end with anything quite as brilliant as the mall demolition from the original, viewers are treated to the best one-on-one fight in the series, when Chan squares off against Benny Lai, playing a mute henchman who hurls firecrackers in between kicks. Lai, like most of the supporting actors in the film, was a member of the Jackie Chan Stunt Team, the daredevil unit that has gone through multiple generations now, crucial players in the creation of one of the greatest movie stars of the modern era.

Video:

Both films are presented in their original 2.35:1 aspect ratios. From the Criterion booklet: “These new 4K digital restorations were undertaken by Fortune Star Media Limited at L'Immagine Ritrovata in Bologna, Italy. New digital transfers were created from the 35 mm original camera negatives on an ARRISCAN film scanner.”

The high-def transfers present a strong, grainy image, no doubt much better than most viewers were used to on a series of low-end home releases over the years. Both of these films were released several years ago on Blu-ray by Shout Factory, and I don't have that set to compare this to. I can't imagine any fans being disappointed by the quality offered by Criterion, though.

Audio:

Both films are presented in lossless mono audio mixes. The sound design isn't exactly complex or crucial here, and the cheesy '80s score is just as cheesy with a souped-up mix. But you get to hear Jackie Chan sing the theme song, so you might as well hear it the right way. Optional English subtitles support the Cantonese audio.

Extras:

“Police Story” and “Police Story 2” are housed on separate Blu-rays in this 2-disc Criterion set, with extras included on each of the discs.

Disc One's supplements begin with “Jackie Chan: My Stunts” (64 min.), a documentary showing Chan on set putting together some of his elaborate stunts, along with clips from his earlier movies. The English narration is bland and irritating, but otherwise this feature gives viewers a glimpse of the exhaustive amount of work required to stage even a short fight scene.

We also get an interview with director Edgar Wright (2019, 13 min.) in which he mostly name-drops the various Chan films he loves the most. This supplement is accompanied by an episode of “Talkhouse Podcast” (36 min.) from Oct 12, 2017, a conversation between Wright and Chan. I do my best to be thorough when reviewing these releases, but I draw the line at listening to a podcast. I'm sure it's wonderful.

In “Becoming Jackie” (16 min.), author and programmer Grady Hendrix traces Jackie Chan's on-screen history, focusing on his development of the modern film persona that has made him a global superstar.

The disc also includes an undated Jackie Chan interview (19 min.) in which he talks about how he begins by planning the fights, then develops the script around them – another similarity to Harold Lloyd, whose writing team usually built from the gag-level up. We also get a short excerpt from a 2017 Hong Kong TV show (12 min.) in which Jackie Chan has a tearful reunion with the members of the Jackie Chan Stunt Team, the old-school originals as well as younger ones- Chan sings the “Police Story” theme song along with his colleagues. An original theatrical Trailer and the Janus re-release trailer round out the offerings on Disc One.

Disc Two offers the Hong Kong Release Version of “Police Story 2” which was whittled down from 122 minutes (the main release on this disc) to 105 minutes. It's in high-def, but the transfer isn't as polished as the main feature.

Grady Hendrix returns for another discussion (21 min.), this time focusing on how Chan “reinvented” action in the '80s, his emphasis on “showing his work” to viewers, and even the subtle wire work employed in his films.

Criterion has also included an episode of “Son Of The Incredibly Strange Film Show” (41 min.), a BBC series hosted by Jonathan Ross, which goes on location to Hong Kong to talk with Jackie Chan and Maggie Cheung, and to run clips from Chan's films.

We also get an undated interview with Benny Lai (15 min.), who gets to play a great villain in “Police Story 2” along with a short Stunt Reel (5 min.) that shows some highlights and bloopers from Chan's films.

The collection wraps up with a Trailer (4 min.) and a short feature (5 min.) about the Peking Opera. The footage is from a 1964 French TV show, so no Jackie Chan, but it shows clips of the exhaustive training he would have gone through.

The fold-out insert booklet includes a fantastic essay by Nick Pinkerton. Really, it's great. I could have just pointed you to this instead of writing a review, but I'm supposed to do some work.

Final Thoughts:

Whether or not “Police Story” and “Police Story 2” are Jackie Chan's best films (Chan fans have, to say the least, strong opinions about their favorites), Ka-kui is undoubtedly one of his best-known and best-loved characters, and a sterling example of the persona he perfected by the end of the 1980s. Criterion has provided both films strong high-def transfers, and a wide array of supporting supplements. An if this set sells well, maybe we'll get some more Jackie Chan films in the Collection.

Dragon Inn

DRAGON INN (Hu, 1967)

Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date July 17, 2018

Review by Christopher S. Long

Writer/director King Hu's wuxia masterpiece “Dragon Inn” (1967) opens not with a flurry of whirling, clanging swords, but with a flurry of voice-over narration. Wisely packing all of the film's exposition into a few minutes, the narrator situates the film in the Ming Dynasty (1457 A.D. for Western audiences) against a backdrop of political intrigue, which basically boils down to the line: “Eunuchs have seized power at the palace.” Eunuchs? Oh yeah, this is gonna be a wild ride.

Beginning with a sense of the grand historical epic, the film quickly pares away all extraneous elements to pursue a simple, focused plot. The chief eunuch Cao Shao-qin (Bai Ying) has framed the loyal general Yu Qian for treason; the general is executed and the Yu family sent into exile. Eager to prevent any future problems, Cao secretly dispatches his forces to tear the surviving Yus “up by the roots.” Good guys race the bad guys (both sides being blessed with near-supernatural martial prowess) to defend the Yu family, and everyone meets at the title location, which provides the setting for the bulk of the film's action.

The Dragon Inn is a modest structure on a dusty road to nowhere in rural China, but King Hu went to great pains to construct his set with authentic, sturdy wooden material. After all, we're going to spend a lot of time at the inn and it will need to stand up a beating from both sides, corrupt government forces and the loose-knit collection of travelers and knights-errant who show up to combat them.

Master swordsman Xiao Shao-zi (Hu veteran Shih Chun) enjoys the first major confrontation with the evil Eastern Depot forces. In fact, he enjoys it over a good meal. Sitting alone in a dining room amidst a brigade of opponents, he calmly sips his bowl of noodles while deftly avoiding a bottle of poisoned wine and effortlessly snatching the occasional stray dagger tossed his way. He hardly even stands up, let alone break a sweat.

The sequence is so lengthy, it comes as a mild surprise that Xiao won't be the sole focus of the action, at least from the hero side. He is soon joined both by a pair of traveling brothers, one of whom turns out to actually be a sister, Miss Zhu (Shangkuan Ling-fung), one of the many great female action heroes King Hu brought to the screen, as well as by the innkeeper who's no slouch in the fighting department himself.

Hu, working with action choreographer Han Ying-chieh (who also plays one of the chief baddies), balances stillness with sudden bursts of action to great effect. In one major assault on the Dragon Inn, Miss Zhu strides methodically forward only to suddenly dodge a volley of arrows and then to just as abruptly find herself surrounded by warriors who appear almost out of thin air. In most duels, the combatants stalk each other, circling warily as they wait for the single sign of weakness that invites them to strike. Measure twice, slice once. All filmed in glorious 2.35:1 widescreen, which Hu and cinematographer Hua Hui-ying exploit to its very edges.

There's little doubt about which side will win, but Hu ratchets up the anticipation by withholding the battle with the evil Cao, renowned throughout the land as the greatest of all swordfighters, until the very end. The heroes will need to work together to defeat him, and they even employ a nasty trick to even the odds: they ruthlessly mock Cao for being a eunuch. Darned if those “I guess you don't have much to lose down there” jokes don't actually seem to hit home, as if he's never heard them before. It's almost enough to make you feel bad for the poor genocidal warlord – after all he was the victim of a horrible mutilation as a child but, nah, you're still cheering for him to get decapitated. Might as well lose it up top too, eh, buddy? C'mon, that really hurts!

“Dragon Inn” was King Hu's first feature after moving from Hong Kong to Taiwan, and it was a massive box-office hit, one that cemented his credentials as an independent filmmaker. It has also come to be seen as one of the defining films of the wuxia genre, a reference point for directors such as Chang Cheh, Tsui Hark, Ang Lee, and even Tsai Ming-liang, if in a rather idiosyncratic way. 

Video:

The film is presented in its original 2.35:1 aspect ratio. The film was digitally restored in 2013 by The Ministry of Culture and Chinese Taipei Film Archive, providing the source for this new 1080p transfer, supervised by cinematographer Hua Hui-ying. “Dragon Inn” is a gorgeous movie that gets a real showcase in this new digital transfer, featuring sharp image detail throughout and a subtle, naturalistic color palette. Looks fantastic, as expected from Criterion.

Audio:

The linear PCM mono audio track is crisp and does a fine job of snapping off those wooden percussive clacks that supplement the action scenes so wonderfully. No distortion or drop off is evident. Optional English subtitles support the Mandarin dialogue.

Extras:

The extras kick off with an interview (2018, 10 min.) with actress Shangkuan Ling-feung, who opens by explaining why she's conducting the interview in full martial arts costume. 'Cause she feels like it, that's why. She's quite a lively subject, delighted to share her honest impressions of director King Hu: “he had a very big head.” “Dragon Inn” was her film breakthrough, and she obviously remains very proud of it as well as the impressive career she built afterward. This is a lot of fun.

Criterion has also included an interview (2016, 11 min.) with actor Shih Chun, who also credits “Dragon Inn” with launching his career as the knight-errant of choice for discerning wuxia fans. He also discusses King Hu's fondness for the Peking Opera and its influence on the film.

In “Art In Action” (2018, 25 min.), author and critic Grady Hendrix analyzes a fight scene from the film, while also providing more background for the film, referring to “Dragon Inn” as “ground zero” for the modern action film, not just the wuxia genre.

The disc also includes a short newsreel (2 min.) touting the film's successful premiere, and a Re-Release Trailer (2 min.)

The fold-out insert booklet features an essay by critic Andrew Chan.

Final Thoughts:

“Dragon Inn” certainly wasn't the first wuxia film, but it's a landmark blockbuster in the genre, as much as “Goldfinger” was to the modern action film. This is the second King Hu film in the Criterion Collection after “A Touch of Zen” (1971) and here's hoping it's not the last.

A Touch of Zen

A TOUCH OF ZEN (Hu, 1971)

Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date July 19, 2016

Review by Christopher S. Long

King Hu's “A Touch of Zen” (1971) crosses several genres and explores multiple paths over the course of its three dynamic and unpredictable hours.

The film opens with a dark (almost too dark to see) montage of spider webs before cutting to empty patches of sky framed between forested hills, shots of tall grass with white fronds swaying in the breeze, and eventually to a survey of what appears to the smoking near-ruins of the fort that will serve as one of the film' central locations. After this extended moody and ominous foregrounding of environment, the film's first surprise is to start with the relatively light-hearted story of a low-level scholar, Gu Sheng-shai (Shih Chun), trying to make ends meet as a scribe and painter in a small town and also deflecting his mother's (Zhang Bing-yu) hectoring efforts to pressure him into marriage. Mother and son live in a dilapidated fort that is rumored to be haunted and, therefore, is rent-free. Maybe this will be a comedy.

Though the appearance of formidable characters like Ouyang Nian (Tien Peng) promises action, this landmark wuxia (“martial hero” or martial arts) film postpones its first fight for nearly an hour in favor of a portrait of everyday life in a rural Ming Dynsaty-era town and the gradual introduction of characters who will turn out to be more than what they initially appear. Chief among them are the “girl” who moves in next door in the rent-free fort, Miss Yang (Hsu Feng), the blind fortune teller Shi (Bai Ying) and the neighborhood herbalist Dr. Lu (Xue Han.) Gu also gets wrapped up in a confusing ghost hunt that never quite fully manifests, but plants the seeds for some later decisions.

So that's a slice of rural life in the Ming Dynasty with a dash of comedy and then a ghost tale before we even get to the wuxia, but it's coming. Once the first sword is drawn with that trademark metallic ring (prominently audible even when a sword is simply being pulled out of a belt loop) and the combatants begin trampoline-hopping through the air, Gu uncovers the real story: Miss Yang is a noblewoman whose family has fallen into political disfavor and Shi and Lu are the generals sworn to protect her from corrupt government forces. The complex intrigues of this subplot can be summed up succinctly: Don't piss off the Grand Eunuch. He's already kind of cranky.

Hu's film showcases several remarkable acrobatic displays, including a meticulously choreographed battle in a dense bamboo forest. The fighters can use a sword lodged in the wall or a tree branch to launch themselves to the sky and then spin back earthward in a graceful, deadly arc. Though battle sequences feature instances of close quarters rapid-fire editing, the film shifts scales routinely, from medium close-ups to distant shots in which the combatants are tiny figures on a stage, patiently circling each other and sharing the spotlight with the landscape. Humans and nature get roughly equal billing, and the film's widescreen frame is gloriously exploited right to its edges time and time again.

The fights, many the brainchild of martial-arts choreographer Han Ying-jie who also appears as the final baddie, luxuriate in the athletic feats of the performers (some of the actors could really fight, others could put up a convincing enough show) but “A Touch of Zen” demonstrates that military strength has its limits. The scholarly Gu is largely a bystander in the actual battles, but he assists Miss Yang and her bodyguards in planning the “subterfuge” necessary to defeat the Grand Eunuch's superior forces. A crucial battle at the fort would be hopeless without his cunning. Might doesn't always make right; sometimes it takes brains.

Perhaps the script's boldest move, however, is to highlight a third option, the spirituality referenced by the title. When a group of Buddhist monks appears on the scene, they are more than capable of besting everyone in hand-to-hand combat, but offer a more peaceful option to participants on both sides of the sprawling battle. Not everyone will be wise or bold enough to accept, but the film's late scenes argue persuasively that they should. And just for future reference, while you shouldn't piss off the Grand Eunuch, you'd really better not mess around with monks. Because that's not going to go well for you.

King Hu started his career as a set designer, actor, and writer, and directed his first film for Shaw Brothers Studio in Hong Kong. He soon relocated to Taiwan and formed his own studio, which brought both new opportunities and new limitations. As stingy as the Shaws could be, at least they were operating within the confines of a thriving national cinema. In Taiwan, most film production in the '60s was the product of government projects, and Hu had to build his own infrastructure almost from the ground up, founding a virtual school to train his actors and some of his crew. Hu wrote, directed, edited, designed the sets and costumes, and even did the calligraphy for the title sequences, which partially explains why he took nearly two years to complete production on “A Touch of Zen” though his much-touted penchant for perfectionism (of Kubrickian proportions, according to colleagues) accounts for most of it.

The film's producers were uncertain how to handle the release of this sprawling epic, and strong-armed Hu into chopping it into two films at first, then later released their own two-hour cut without the director's participation. Neither release succeeded. In 1975, the film was restored and re-assembled in its current form (or close to it) and played at the Cannes Film Festival where it won a technical prize and helped open international markets for wuxia films.

Although “A Touch of Zen” wasn't as successful commercially as King Hu's first Taiwan feature “Dragon Inn” (1967), the two films helped to establish him as one of the masters of the wuxia genre. His influence on younger filmmakers, even those far removed from the martial-arts scene, has only grown over the years. Tsai Ming-liang's “Goodbye, Dragon Inn” (2003) takes place in a Taipei theater screening Hu's “Dragon Inn” one last time before shuttering its doors for good, and the English title of Jia Zhangke's 2013 film, “A Touch of Sin,” is a tribute to King Hu, who passed away in 1997 at the age of 64.

Video:

The film is presented in its original 2.35:1 widescreen aspect ratio. A 2014 4K digital restoration in Taiwan, described as “sponsored solely by actor Hsu Feng,” has been the source for the film's theatrical re-release as well as its European Blu-ray release and now this Blu-ray from Criterion. The colors are rich and image detail is sharp throughout. If there's any drawback, it's that the dark scenes are really, really dark, enough that it's hard to make out a lot of detail. I can't attest to how close that is to the film's original release, but it's most noticeable in the opening montage of spider webs and in the tail end of Gu's ghost fright at the fort. Overall, however, the high-def transfer is strong, providing a vibrant, enjoyable viewing experience.

Audio:

The linear PCM Mono track is flat, but very crisp and strong. Those metallic rings of swords being drawn really resonate, and the music sounds good as well. Optional English subtitles support the Mandarin audio.

Extras:

After a successful limited theatrical run this year, “A Touch of Zen” arrives on Blu-ray with a diverse selection of supplemental features from Criterion.

The collection includes 2016 interviews with lead actor Shih Chun (17 min.) and lead actress Hsu Feng (14 min.), both of whom discuss their working relationship with King Hu. The portrait that emerges is a combination of affection, respect, and intimidation. He could be a demanding taskmaster and work with him was both emotionally and physically grueling as he ordered endless re-takes on productions that lasted years at times. An additional 2016 interview with director Ang Lee (13 min.) provides a different appreciation, with Lee arguing that Hu may have been the first director to introduce a style-conscious approach to commercial Chinese filmmaking; at the very least, Lee contends that Hu made the first “art-house” wuxia films.

The disc also includes a 2012 documentary about King Hu (48 min.), directed by Hubert Niogret. We hear from a lot of film professionals and scholars in this documentary, though historian Peggy Chiao is probably the go-to expert. With interviews and film clips, this piece covers King Hu's career from his early work as a set designer, then through his acting and directing career, along with discussion of his production techniques and his place in film history.

A Trailer (2 min.) wraps up the extras.

The fold-out insert booklet includes an essay by film scholar David Bordwell along with a piece penned by King Hu as part of the press kit for the film's 1975 screening at Cannes.

Final Thoughts:

I've heard about “A Touch of Zen” for a while and I wasn't disappointed. A great release of “Dragon Inn” would be the most logical follow up. Solid transfer, strong extras. Highly recommended.

Sword of Doom

SWORD OF DOOM (Okamoto, 1966)

Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date January 6, 2015

Review by Christopher S. Long

An old man prays for death so that he will no longer be a burden to his granddaughter. A swordsman dressed in black appears behind him and grants his request with a single brutal stroke.

An avenging angel? Hardly. Ryunosuke Tsukue (Tatsuya Nakadai) is a samurai obsessed with perfecting his form. When we meet him his monomania has already left him alienated and unhinged; as the film progresses and his few human contacts dwindle it will drive him to madness. He's also our protagonist.

Director Kihachi Okamoto, working from a screenplay by Shinobu Hashimoto, adapted “The Sword of Doom” (1966) from the popular serialized novel by Kaizan Nakazato. In the novel (according to the fine essay written by critic Geoffrey O'Brien and included with this disc) Ryunosuke, who plies his trade during the mid to late 1800s in shogunate Japan, embraces evil because he is destined to do so in the author's expression of Mahayana Buddhism. The character, however, quickly assumed his own life in popular culture, becoming a sympathetic anti-hero before such figures became more prevalent.

Okamoto doesn't delve too deeply into his protagonist's psyche and Nakadai's performance is a highly physical one, not just the choreographed hacking and slashing but also through intense glowering expressions reminiscent of the trademark Kubrick stare that augurs incipient breakdown. Often he lurks on the periphery before submitting passively to his next battle and then his next, oddly detached from his amoral slaughter yet still completely committed to destruction.

Ryunosuke is at conflict with the entire world but most specifically wants to challenge the great and noble swordplay teacher Shimada (Toshiro Mifune), the only man whose form exceeds his. If there's a significant disappointment in this film, it's that we don't get nearly as much Mifune as we want ,though his big scene, a gorgeously filmed and staged ambush in the snow, is one of the film's highlights. Aside from that he's mostly relegated to a minor supporting role.

The narrative is episodic in nature, leaping forward in time only to remind us of how little poor Ryunosuke has changed or is capable of changing; complaining about a lack of character development would simply miss the point. He briefly interrupts his martial pursuits for a half-formed fixation on an innocent young woman (Yoko Naito) who shows him a moment of kindness, but intimacy just isn't in his nature.

The film's appeal relies heavily on the brooding charisma of its lead and on the Grand Guignol finale in which Ryunosuke battles foes both imagined and real. Here he becomes almost completely robotic though still graceful as a killing machine. New rivals materialize out of thin air and he keeps hacking away. He is sliced and diced by the endless horde and just when he looks ready to fall, he hacks some more, his sword a flashing metronome. I won't spoil the ending for you, but by this point in this bleak story one gets the impression that the worst fate for our hero would be to survive and thus be doomed to kill for all eternity.

Video:

The film is presented in its original 2.35:1 aspect ratio. Criterion originally released “Sword of Doom” on DVD in 2005. The transfer was fine, but this 1080p transfer represents a significant upgrade with much sharper image detail and rich black-and-white contrast. It's possible that necessary boosting accounts for a few scenes where the grain isn't as prominent, but overall this high-def transfer looks excellent.

Audio:

The linear PCM mono track is crisp but more functional than dynamic. Not a lot to say on this one, just a solid, professional job with no evident distortion. Optional English subtitles support the Japanese audio.

Extras:

The 2005 release was strictly bare bones. Criterion hasn't dug up much for this Blu-ray release, but at least we get a newly recorded commentary track by scholar Stephen Prince and a Trailer (2 min.) I have only had a chance to sample Prince's commentary but it is loaded with the usual expertise Prince brings to his analysis of Japanese cinema.

The slim fold-out insert booklet features the same essay by critic Geoffrey O'Brien that was included with the 2005 release.

Film Value:

Stylish and bleak, “Sword of Doom” might be the perfect date movie... for the right date. The extras are slim but the transfer is strong. Samurai fan will certainly enjoy this high-def upgrade.