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Film
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Kung Fu Hustle
If he was working in Hollywood, Stephen Chow would have no doubt been asked to make Shaolin Soccer II. But thankfully for all of us, he still calls Hong Kong home.
Monday, April 11, 2005
By Todd Gilchrist
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Sony Pictures Classics
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Man of many talents Chow
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In the ever evolving world of martial arts cinema, action is frequently defined by critics as ‘balletic,’ signifying some magical synthesis of choreography and camerawork that transcends the mortal limits of physical acumen, and which achieves a rare beauty that doesn’t exist in typical depictions of brutality. There are innumerable entries in the genre - among them both of Zhang Yimou’s recent triumphs Hero and House of Flying Daggers - that fit such a description; but unfortunately, not all of these films are quite as complex, captivating or beautiful as the ‘ballets’ they purport to document.
Stephen Chow’s Kung Fu Hustle, however, pirouettes around them all, and earns a rare distinction among the mounting entries in this esteemed new subset of chop-socky cinema: specifically, his film isn’t merely a ballet, but a full-fledged symphony, and as its writer, director and star, he’s composer, conductor and superlative soloist all rolled into one.
In his previous film, the overlooked Hong Kong export Shaolin Soccer, Chow played a martial arts master who learns how to apply his distinctive skill set - and a pair of impossibly strong legs - to the rough-and-tumble world of professional soccer. Unsurprisingly to anyone who saw it, the film went on to become the highest-grossing film in Hong Kong history; but rather than simply responding to his success by generating a project worthy only of ‘China’s biggest screen star,’ Chow assembled a whip-smart ensemble cast and assumed an important but subordinate role to tell a story that is unlike anything anyone has ever seen.
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Sony Pictures Classics
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Landlady (Qiu Yuen)
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Most of Kung Fu Hustle’s events take place in Pig Sty Alley, a dilapidated tenement ruled cruelly over by a curmudgeonly Landlady (Yuen Qiu) and her henpecked Landlord husband (Yuen Wah). Most of the residents are working-class poor, so when a street tough named Sing (Chow) attempts to fleece them for some protection money, they fearlessly rise up and dispatch the would-be hustler. Unfortunately, this alerts an actual gang to their resistance to outside criminal pressure, and a phalanx of foot soldiers are sent in to scare the Pig Sty inhabitants into submission.
Fortunately, three of the denizens - Donut (Dong Zhi Hua), Tailor (Chiu Chi Ling) and Coolie (Xing Yu) - are not merely good fighters, but full-fledged martial arts masters, and easily defeat their seemingly innumerable opponents. Mystified at the display of resistance, Axe gang leader Sum (Chan Kwok Kwan) enlists Sing and his sidekick (Lam Tze Chung) to help infiltrate the tenement, and recruits an increasingly dangerous series of trained killers to fight against the martial arts masters. Each group of adversaries possesses strange, mystical abilities, and the opposing sides come together in an enormous battle, laying waste to both heroes and villains, but ultimately protecting Pig Sty Alley.
With few soldiers left in his fighting reserves, Sum sends an unstoppable killer named The Beast (Leung Siu Lung) to vanquish the masters forever and preserve his rule over its impoverished inhabitants. With their own numbers depleted, the masters realize that the only way to defeat the Beast is to call upon greatest martial artist of all - Sing, whose talents have yet to manifest themselves. But even if they do, will Sing willfully fulfill his destiny?
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Sony Pictures Classics
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The Beast (Leung Siu Lung)
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No amount of description does justice to the eccentric and irresistible pleasures that are found in Kung Fu Hustle; it is at once a coming of age story, a gangland epic, a martial arts melee, a romantic comedy and dissertation on spirituality, often all at once. But unlike single-minded contemporaries like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon’s Ang Lee, Once Upon a Time in China’s Tsui Hark or Hero’s Yimou, Chow’s attention-starved approach works better than all of theirs combined.
In a way, it’s as if Chow treats his subject with the same kind of iconic specificity that George Lucas did his archetypes in the Star Wars films: each character is an individual entity, self-contained in his or her personal struggle, but part of an overall narrative as well. Chow’s leitmotifs are visual rather than musical, and he returns to them for comedic or dramatic value with perfect, sparing emphases.
The Landlady’s permanent scowl and dangling cigarette become signifiers not only of her finicky antagonism, but a facade for her reluctant concern for Pig Sty’s inhabitants; ditto the Landlord’s indulgent obliviousness. But these effective punch lines never sacrifice genuine, heartfelt emotion, and generate unlikely tugs on the audience’s heartstrings by the time the characters’ indifference has melted, and their real concern has become obvious.
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Sony Pictures Classics
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Brother Sun (Kwok Kuen Chan)
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All of these virtues, ironically, come at the expense of a real filmmaker’s ability, which has yet to mature in Chow as it already has in his aforementioned colleagues. That’s not to say he doesn’t have an eye for flashy, impressive visuals, but that his employment of choreography and special effects (particularly CGI) occasionally leaves something to be desired; Chow knows in what measures to use camera trickery from a storytelling perspective, but not from that of a visual scenarist. But what Chow lacks in technique he makes up for in enthusiasm, and even the most direction-minded viewer will be hard-pressed to critique his filmmaking style too strongly whilst enjoying his manic, feverish creativity in full bloom.
Regardless of these minor shortcomings, Kung Fu Hustle ranks as the most enjoyable experience I’ve yet had at the movies in 2005, one which will surely find a spot in numerous Top Ten lists at year’s end, and may perhaps go down in history as one of the genre’s defining moments.
As a cinematic symphony, it’s the first in what one hopes will be a long series of powerful movements. And to employ a reference that the Kubrick-influenced Chow might appreciate, his film is the martial-arts monolith from which great things may yet evolve; but more than that, it’s a great example of filmmaking at its most creative, and most passionate.
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