100 Yards (2024) Review

“100 Yards” Theatrical Poster

Director: Xu Haofeng
Co-director: Xu Junfeng
Cast: Jacky Heung, Andy On, Bea Hayden Kuo, Li Yuan, Shiyi Tang, Kevin Lee, Brono Bajtala
Running Time: 109 min.

By Paul Bramhall

There’s a strong argument to be had for Xu Haofeng being the greatest kung-fu cinema director of the 21^st century. When Haofeng made his directorial debut with The Sword Identity in 2012 he was billed as the writer of Wong Kar-Wai’s The Grandmaster (which ironically at the time was yet to be released), however such was the strength of his debut that he was soon recognized as an established director in his own right. Typically blending themes based on the rules that govern the martial arts world, and imbuing them with a sense of everyday reality, Haofeng’s ability to create works that feel grounded yet poetic has become one of his defining traits.

In modern day China though dealing with the world the wuxia genre operates in comes with its own risks, with it by nature having an element of the political in its tales of rival clans and individualistic aspirations. With the shakeups that took place in the latter 2010’s around how productions have to pass the censorship board, and President Xi Jinping’s own speech that declared the film industry should make “patriotism the main theme of literary and artistic creation”, in 2017 Haofeng’s latest found itself in the crosshairs. While The Hidden Sword debuted at the Montréal World Film Festival during the same year, in 2019 its domestic release in China was cancelled 4 days before it was due to hit cinemas and hasn’t been heard of since, largely assumed to be because its subject matter fell foul of the latest censorship laws. Since then Haofeng has been quiet, so it’s understandably a cause for celebration to see him return in 2024 with 100 Yards.

Despite 7 years passing since the completion of The Hidden Sword, Haofeng shows no signs of rust with his latest, sharing co-director credit with his brother Xu Junfeng. Smartly sidestepping any potentially controversial subject matter (reflecting the same approach Zhang Yimou took with 2021’s Cliff Walkers after the similar drama he experienced with One Second), instead the plot focuses on a dying martial arts school master who’s looking to pass on the school’s ownership. While his son would seem to naturally be next in line, played by Jacky Heung (League of Gods, True Legend), the master has called upon one of his oldest students to return as another potential inheritor, played by Andy On (Ride On, Blind War).

Pitted against each other, Heung proves to be no match for On’s skills, the result of Heung’s father wanting him to leave the martial arts world, meaning that unlike On, he never taught him every form of their family’s kung-fu style. With On as the school’s inheritor, tension soon begins to bristle from his unorthodox approach to running the school, while Heung digs deeper into rumours that his father’s three fist form technique may have had a secretive fourth fist style that only a select few are aware of. While on the surface of the plot the driver is who should rightfully take over the school, just beneath there’s the age-old question that lays at the heart of many of the best wuxia’s – who is number one when it comes to martial arts?

Set in the French concession of Tianjin during the 1920’s, the 100 Yards of the title refers to how martial arts schools came to be responsible for any disorder that took place within said distance from the school’s gates, an unspoken rule of assisting to keep the peace of the communities in which they were established. In the narrative the measurement becomes a metaphor for the escalating rivalry between Heung and On, as the insular nature of the kung-fu community increasingly spills both beyond both the school itself and the 100 yards outside of it, as traditions are disregarded and tensions begin to fray. In one scene the daughter of the bank manager Heung has been dating, played with a sultry charm by Bea Hayden Kuo (the Tiny Time franchise, and Heung’s actual wife), tells him “Don’t believe anything you see or anything that happens.”, and it’s a fitting analogy for the duplicitous nature of wanting to be the best.

As a scholar of all thing’s martial arts Haofeng usually also takes on the role of fight choreographer in his productions, and here it’s no different, with the exception being that he’s brought onboard Duncan Leung as co-martial art director. One of the few students of Ip Man who was trained one on one at home, Haofeng had wanted to bring Leung onboard to choreograph the wing chun butterfly sword action in 2015’s The Master, but as one of the last remaining masters back then was still reluctant to reveal its techniques. Haofeng ended up choreographing the action himself, using his own interpretations of how he thought they’d be used in combat, and Leung was impressed enough that almost 10 years later he agreed to come onboard and train Heung and On in their application, as well as assisting in the choreography itself.

Like all of Haofeng’s productions, the fight scenes here play an integral part of the plot, acting as more than exclamation marks in that each one also serves to propel the narrative forward. The antithesis of the style of action found in the likes of The Shadow Strays from the same year, here the fights are filmed and performed clean and crisp, with the focus not so much on inflicting as much pain on the opponent as possible, rather doing just enough to demonstrate martial arts superiority. Both Heung and On are revelations in their roles, with the former being missing from the big screen since 2019’s Chasing Dream, and in a role where he displays his martial arts prowess even longer.

On was always touted as having the potential to be the next big Hong Kong action star, and while changes in the market have seen those hopes become redundant, in recent years he’s made a niche for himself turning up in action orientated web-movies like Hunt the Wicked and The Comeback. To see them both being given the opportunity to show off their martial arts talents in a production like 100 Yards feels one of those rare occasions when the stars align, and every action scene delivers, resulting in a finale that amounts to almost 30 minutes of non-stop fighting. The highlight is a 10-minute uninterrupted sequence that sees Heung taking on a small army of attackers one by one to prove his worthiness, with the focus on technique harking back to the kind of pure kung-fu movie that the late Lau Kar-Leung specialised in.

Unlike Lau Kar-Leung though, Haofeng shows a deft hand at being able to weave in a subtle sense of humor, with the way Heung confidently strides forward after defeating each fighter in the main sequence offset by those sprawled on the ground being hurriedly carried away on stretchers in the background. Special mention should also go to classical dancer Tang Shi Yi, here making her sophomore big screen acting appearance after 2021’s The Day We Lit Up the Sky, who clocks in a supporting role as the master of an elusive short sword technique, and gets her own action sequence when she’s ambushed in a bath house. Despite her relative inexperience she has a strong screen presence whenever she’s on it, and comes to play an important role in the rivalry between Heung and On.

Despite its more contemporary setting, the themes that underpin 100 Yards recall some of the genres best wuxia’s, with the certain melancholy that goes hand in hand with navigating the martial arts world recalling the likes of Hua Shan’s Soul of the Sword and Patrick Tam’s The Sword. Beneath the fedora hats there’s a longing for something more, and in the closing scenes there’s at least a partial realisation that being the superior martial artist doesn’t necessarily mean that much. While in 2024 fight filled action movies are in plentiful supply, movies which put the themes of martial artistry at the heart of why they exist are few and far between. With 100 Yards Haofeng proves that it’s still possible to create a compelling story, fully rounded characters, and stellar fight action, and for that, we can all be thankful.

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 9/10