Code of the Assassins (2022) Review

“Code of the Assassins” Theatrical Poster

AKA: Song of the Assassins
Director: Daniel Lee Yan-Kong
Cast: William Feng Shaofeng, Gina Jin Chen, Zhang Hao, Hu Jun, Summer Xu Qing, Wang Qing-Xiang, Kenneth Tsang, Ray Lui, Norman Tsui, Jack Kao Kuo-Hsin
Running Time: 119 min. 

By Paul Bramhall

After a long and arduous journey, in 2022 Code of the Assassins finally made it to the screen. Filming started way back in 2017 with grand plans to include an accompanying drama series and multiple sequels proposed, however various strife inside production company Le Vision Pictures resulted in its release being delayed, confounded further by the CEO passing away in early 2021. The original plans for a theatrical release were ultimately canned, and in the end it debuted to minimum fanfare in the overcrowded VOD market 5 years after cameras started to roll. 

Director Daniel Lee likely needs no introduction to fans of Hong Kong cinema, having remained one of the most divisive talents since his debut with 1994’s What Price Survival, a re-imagining of The One Armed Swordsman. His preference for highly stylised MTV influenced editing often sees him accused of style over substance, and he’s hardly the strongest storyteller when it comes to an engaging narrative, however his name rightly comes up in any discussion on Hong Kong action cinema. Including Code of the Assassins Lee’s sat in the director’s chair a total of 14 times, and I can at least say I’m a fan of his sophomore feature Black Mask from 1996 (which admittedly had the benefit of Tsui Hark producing and Yuen Woo-Ping on choreography duty) and his 2010 wuxia 14 Blades (which, like his debut, was also a reimagining of a Shaw Brothers movie, this time Secret Service of the Imperial Court being the title in question).

In short, Lee is at his best when he’s given a straightforward story where he can let his visual flourishes run wild, and have the audience go along for the ride. Give him something more substantial, as we saw with his historical battle epics like 2008’s Three Kingdoms: Resurrection of the Dragon and 2011’s White Vengeance, and he’s on less steady ground. With a complex plot and conflicted characters to handle, Lee’s lesser regarded trademarks include relying on endless exposition dumps, and helming complicated character relationships with all the subtlety of a Nicolas Cage meltdown. Following the swords ‘n’ sandals clanger Dragon Blade in 2015, and the disastrous 2016 time travel flick Time Raiders, Code of the Assassins has a lot riding on it (it’s worth noting that a movie he completed after Code of the Assassins was actually released before it, with the mountain rescue flick The Climbers hitting screens in 2019).

The plot involves an assassin played by William Feng (Painted Skin: The Resurrection, Young Detective Dee: Rise of the Sea Dragon), whose family was wiped out and arm chopped off (although thankfully this isn’t Lee’s 2^nd take on The One Armed Swordsman!) many years ago over a mysterious copper treasure map. Now decked out with a mechanical arm which is one part Ash from Army of Darkness, one part Inspector Gadget, when the map resurfaces Feng makes it his mission to retrieve what he believes to be rightfully his, but fails when caught off guard by a group of “western warriors” (not an American basketball team, despite how the name sounds). Forced to go on the run both from his own clan and a whole slew of others who are also after the map, Feng becomes a fugitive, while at the same time trying to uncover the conspiracy that’s been ongoing for years since the map was originally stolen. 

Based on a popular novel by Yuan Taiji, the story is relatively straight forward, however onscreen it clearly could have benefitted from cutting down on a few plot threads. Lee crams the narrative with characters and poorly handled romantic subplots, so much so that you’d think he’s directing one of novelist Gu Long’s sprawling wuxia epics. While a director like Chor Yuen was always up to the task of translating such complex wuxia tales for the screen (and often into 90 minutes!), Lee’s distinctive style here frequently works against him. Characters are introduced onscreen in their own 3 second music video style cutaways, usually set to a throbbing electric guitar or synth, creating a bombardment of onscreen names which mean little to the viewer, and often serve little narrative purpose even after they’ve been introduced. 

On the plus side a supporting cast full of veteran kung-fu and Hong Kong cinema heavyweights serve their purpose to add some levity to proceedings. Code of the Assassins would be the final performance of Kenneth Tsang (A Better Tomorrow, The Killer), who sadly passed before its release, while the likes of Norman Tsui (Duel to the Death, The Loot), Du Yu-Ming (Slaughter in Xian, Journey to the West), and Yuen Cheung-Yan (Shaolin Drunkard, A Heroic Fight) all turn up as clan members after the map.

The action is perhaps the most interesting aspect of Code of the Assassins. Helmed by Han Guanhua, who was responsible for the action in the likes of Animal World and Europe Raiders, together with Lee there’s a distinctive steampunk aesthetic that’s utilised with varying results. The visuals go a little overboard with the CGI cutaways that show the inner workings of Feng’s mechanical arm every time he’s about to use it, as the novelty quickly wears thin of watching a bunch of CGI nuts-and-bolts whir to life. The arm includes everything from a detachable hand on a chain, razor sharp claws, an inbuilt expandable sword, projectile ball bearings, and probably more. He’ll need it though since his opponents come armed with everything from an equally loaded umbrella, to razor sharp wings that look like something straight out of a Marvel movie.

Speaking of Marvel, Lee takes a few liberties that are clearly influenced by the superhero franchise, the most obvious one being that whenever Feng is wearing his assassin mask, we get Iron Man-esque shots of his face inside the mask during the battle scenes (and just wait until you see the way he takes it off). While heavily dependent on CGI, the action scenes are entertaining, and its great to see the likes of Norman Tsui (even if it’s his double) busting out the moves. Lee seems to want to pair the steampunk visuals with a modern soundtrack which doesn’t quite work, often making some of the more exaggerated action feel like video game cut scenes, and a few of the costumes look just modern enough to take you out of the story. In particular, I could have sworn in some scenes that Feng is strutting around with a North Face winter jacket that’s hanging up in my wardrobe.

Outside of the action though the pacing is a laborious slog. Shots of Feng brooding on a variety of rooftops look like they belong in a green tea commercial, and the attempts to form a romance between his character and a mysterious woman played by Gina Jin Chen (Ghost Leader, Forever Love) are laughable, not least because of their lack of chemistry or emotion. Comparatively, later one character’s tear-filled outburst over the death of a loved one is so out of the blue that it elicits laughter for showing too much emotion. Code of Assassins biggest problem though is the one that plagues so many of Lee’s productions, in that whenever it wants to advance the plot it becomes needlessly wordy. Once everything is out in the open, rather than relying on the audience to get it, we have Feng deliver a painfully long monologue that explains the whole plot in far too much detail.

Even once the final action scene reaches its conclusion, we still get one more duplicitous character twist that arrives in the form of a needlessly protracted speech, ensuring that any momentum before the end credits roll is killed dead in its tracks, closing things off with a yawn rather than a bang. All of this would likely be a lot more forgivable if the runtime wasn’t a hefty 2 hours, which makes the time there isn’t any action onscreen feel increasingly more insufferable as the narrative ploughs forward. Code of the Assassins was said to be a passion project for Daniel Lee, it’s just a shame that the best chance it had of being a good movie would have been for him to vacate the director’s chair to someone else. Unfortunately, he didn’t.  

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 5.5/10