Writer’s Odyssey, A (2021) Review

"A Writer’s Odyssey" Theatrical Poster

“A Writer’s Odyssey” Theatrical Poster

AKA: Assassin in Red
Director: Lu Yang
Cast: Lei Jia-Yin, Yang Mi, Dong Zi-Jian, Yu He-Wei, Guo Jing-Fei, Tong Li-Ya, Dong Jie
Running Time: 130 min. 

By Paul Bramhall

Based on Shuang Xuetao’s novel of the same name and its sequel, A Writer’s Odyssey finally arrived on cinema screens for the 2021 Lunar New Year after spending more than 2 years in post-production to complete the special effects work. Directed by Lu Yang, responsible for both 2014’s Brotherhood of Blades and its 2017 sequel, Brotherhood of Blades II: The Infernal Battlefield, Yang is a director who’s already proven himself to have an eye for visuals and storytelling, and his latest is certainly his most ambitious work to date.

The plot involves a father whose daughter was kidnapped by child traffickers 6 years ago, and has spent the time since attempting to track them down to bring her back, to the point that he’s now a dishevelled shell of his former self having also lost his marriage and any semblance of his old life. Effectively played by Lei Jia-Yin (Wandering Earth, Cliff Walkers), whenever he falls asleep he’s haunted by dreams of a fantasy world where he can hear his daughter calling him, but has no idea what they mean. When we meet Jia-Yin he’s finally tracked down the child traffickers on a remote road up in the mountains, however after a misunderstanding sees him taken into police custody, he finds himself rescued by a mysterious woman played by Yang Mi (Reset, The Bullet Vanishes).

Mi knows everything about Jia-Yin, from his missing daughter to his recurring dreams, and offers him the chance to be reunited with his daughter if he’ll assist the CEO of the corporation she works for. Now, stick with me here – it turns out the dreams Jia-Yin is having are of an online fantasy novel called Godslayer, which is being live streamed as it’s written by its author, played by Dong Zi-Jian (The Founding of an Army, Ash is Purest White). The novel follows a young warrior (also played by Zi-Jian) who’s travelling through a war-ravaged land to kill the evil overlord Redmane and bring peace to the kingdom. In a similar way to how Jia-Yin has been dreaming about the novel, the CEO (played by Yu He-Wei – Mr. Six, The Island) feels that he’s also somehow connected to the character of Redmane, as whenever misfortune strikes the character in the novel, a similar misfortune falls upon him mirrored in reality.

With the novel almost finished, and with the ending seemingly going to involve the death of Redmane, Jia-Yin is given the ultimatum – if he wants their assistance to be reunited with his daughter, kill Zi-Jian before he has the opportunity to kill Redmane in his novel, and save the CEO’s life. In short, that’s the plot of A Writer’s Odyssey, and over its 130 minute runtime Yang confidently builds the corresponding worlds – a reality that takes place in what feels like an almost subterranean city in China, all crumbling elevated walkways permeating the ever present smog, and a lush greenery that makes it difficult to tell where the surrounding mountains start and the town begins.

Similarly for the fantasy world, which is populated by faceless assassins decked out from head to toe in menacing red armour, a shape shifting one eyed monster made of rock that attaches itself to Zi-Jian’s body as a kind of armour that feeds off his blood, and 50-foot tall 4-armed Gods. The whole environment is impressively rendered, with some of the battle sequences generating the same kind of awe that the likes of Tsui Hark and Yuen Bun created for Journey to the West: The Demons Strike Back. The action here is handled by Cao Hua, who was also responsible for the action found in the likes of Ding Sheng’s The Underdog Knight, and another 2021 Lunar New Year release with Endgame. Fully taking advantage of the fantasy environment, the scope and breadth of some scenes is a sight to behold, with one particular siege on another town being a standout thanks to some stunningly designed flying dragon lanterns.

As preposterous as the plot sounds, Yang handles it confidently, generating a genuine curiosity around the mystery between the real worlds characters connection with the fantasy, and exactly how the author is writing a novel that’s infiltrating certain individuals’ consciousness. Why does one character only dream about the world, to the point of elaborating on parts of the plot which haven’t even been written, while another suffers a physical toll based on events that happen to a character in the novel? It’s a genuinely intriguing premise, and one that has your attention from the beginning, however the issue is Yang doesn’t seem to have the answers himself. Despite successfully setting up compelling character motivations, a unique concept, and truly impressive cinematic visuals to back it all up, the further it progresses the more hollow it begins to feel, as it becomes apparent there’s going to be no pay-off that unwraps the puzzle.

Frustrations are exasperated further when more concepts are thrown into the real-world scenario. It’s revealed that Jia-Yin has the ability to throw objects with alarming speed and accuracy from any distance, even able to change their course mid-flight. We learn that other characters are imbued with special abilities as well, such as being able to generate their own electricity. Suddenly it feels like we’re taking a detour into The Witch: Part 1. The Subversion territory, which in fairness allows action director Cao to craft some exciting scenes in the real-world involving Jia-Yin getting his hands on pool and golf balls. However how and why these characters have these powers is never explained, almost as if Yang is using A Writer’s Odyssey to throw every idea he had onto the screen regardless of its relation to the plot, which if true could well be argued to be an ironically existential masterpiece considering the title.

Whatever the perspective, there’s a fine line between cinematic ambiguity and it simply being a case of too many gaps in the plot to be fully immersed, and A Writer’s Odyssey is the latter. Despite such a critical flaw though, the well-rounded characters, brisk pace, and creative visuals come together to create an experience which is best described as more than the sum of its parts. Even without explaining how the corresponding worlds work and their connections to the characters (and why some of them have superpowers!), there can be no doubting Yang has created a visual feast that is never less than entertaining to watch. 

The faceless red armoured assassins are particularly striking, and a chase scene that finds one in pursuit of Zi-Jian and Jia-Yin’s fantasy-world daughter is exhilarating to watch as they weave in and out, on top of, and around buildings in a series of tightly knit streets. The finale involving an impressively rendered 50-foot God is equally epic in scale, even if the arrival of a certain character pushes it a little too far into video game territory. This is a different type of movie than the CGI filled fantasy spectacles that populated Chinese multiplexes during the 2010’s, with Yang crafting an affecting blockbuster that has a compelling narrative and relatable characters behind it, and is hopefully a sign of things to come.

There’s already a sequel in the works to A Writer’s Odyssey, and my hope is that it’ll address many of the unanswered questions that its predecessor leaves in its wake. With a lengthy runtime, I’d hesitate to say it would make the omissions any less forgivable, but the plot and characters are compelling enough that I’d like to understand the world Yang has created more than I did when the end credits rolled. Imagine the earthy grittiness found in the likes of A Long Day’s Journey into Night, then throw in an epic adventure like in The Lord of the Rings trilogy, and that gives you some idea as to what to expect from A Writer’s Odyssey. As Yang’s most ambitious work to date it’s a sprawling epic that doesn’t fully deliver on its logic, but certainly does in just about every other regard. For once, I may be willing to say that that’s enough. 

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 7/10



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