Fist of the Condor (2023) Review

“Fist of the Condor” Theatrical Poster

Director: Ernesto Díaz Espinoza
Cast: Marko Zaror, Eyal Meyer, Gina Aguad, Fernanda Urrejola, Man Soo Yoon, Jose Manuel, Cristian Garin, Francisco Castro, Andrés Cid, Joaquin Puig
Running Time: 80 min. 

By Paul Bramhall 

Chile isn’t the country that first springs to mind when you think about martial arts cinema, however since their debut with 2006’s Kiltro, the director and leading man pair of Ernesto Díaz Espinoza and the ‘Latin Dragon’ Marko Zaror have ensured their home country should at least get a mention. Friends from high school, together they cranked out a steady stream of DTV action flicks from the mid-2000’s to mid-2010’s, including 2007’s Mirageman, 2009’s Mandrill, and 2014’s Redeemer. At one point Zaror was even going to star in an English language remake of Mirageman called Defender 3D, which was set to be directed by Andy Cheng, but it unfortunately never got further than a trailer. While it seemed like we’d seen the end of Espinoza and Zaror’s collaborations together, in 2023 they finally reunited for Fist of the Condor, almost 10 years after their last collaboration.

In the intervening years Zaror has taken on a number of supporting turns in big budget Hollywood productions like Alita: Battle Angel and John Wick Chapter 4, as well as taking on villainous roles in DTV action flicks like Savage Dog (which offered up a rematch against Scott Adkins from Undisputed 3: Redemption) and Invincible. Espinoza on the other hand has largely been quiet, only going on to direct the comedy sequel Fuerzas Especiales 2: Cabos Sueltos in 2015, and disappearing to the point where I’d assumed he’d retired from the film industry.

When I heard he’d be re-teaming with Zaror once more for Fist of the Condor, my feelings were a mixture of hope and dread. Hope because whenever they do collaborate, the results are always interesting, offering up everything from 007-spoofs to lo-fi vigilante superheroes. Dread because in 2020 we got Seized, a lamentable effort from director and leading man Isaac Florentine and Scott Adkins, whose collaborations follow a remarkably similar trajectory to that of Espinoza and Zaror. Both Zaror and Adkins got their breakout role in 2006 (for the latter it was playing Boyka in Undisputed II: Last Man Standing) under directors they’d continue to work with over the next decade, and both pairs reunited in the 2020’s having not collaborated for an extended period of time (for Florentine and Adkins, before Seized their last movie was 2015’s Close Range). For Adkins and Florentine at least, time wasn’t kind.

Thankfully, when it comes to Fist of the Condor my hope was rewarded, and dread cast aside. Not including the opening and closing credits it clocks in at just over 75 minutes, making for an incredibly lean little slice of martial arts goodness. Espinoza utilises the rich history of Latin America to provide the backdrop to the story, as we learn that during the Spanish invasion in the 16^th century, a kung-fu manual detailing the deadly condor fist was hidden by the Incas, and has been passed down the generations for safe keeping. In the present day we meet a mysterious pair of twins, both of whom are played by Zaror, one of whom is believed to be the current safekeeper of the manual. Long separated, both have a desire to find the other and take revenge, although the reasons why are only gradually uncovered as the narrative progresses, revealing the consequences of mastering the condor fist to their full extent.

What’s clear from the fist minute of Fist of the Condor is that together, Espinoza and Zaror are paying homage to the classic kung-fu movies of yesteryear. There are nods to many of the old-school classics both directly and indirectly, from Zaror’s character suffering from photophobia (cue opponents breaking out the portable mirrors to reflect sun into his eyes!), to the use of crash zooms. Kung-fu cinema aficionados will no doubt enjoy references to the likes of Crippled Avengers, Master of the Flying Guillotine, and Dragon’s Snake Fist, all of which are subtly incorporated into the narrative. The condor style itself is highly reminiscent of Charlie Chan’s eagle style from 1982’s Legend of a Fighter, stretching the arms behind the back to represent an eagle’s wings, and over 40 years later it still makes for an aesthetically appealing style of kung-fu. In short, if you’re a fan of old-school kung-fu flicks, there’s a lot to enjoy.

Of course any kung-fu flick worth its salt needs to give its protagonist worthy opponents to face off against, and to that end Espinoza has brought onboard some quality talent.  Re-teaming with regular choreographer Wernher Schurmann (The Green Inferno), proceedings open with a duel on the beach between Zaror and Puerto Rican import Jose Manuel, fresh from playing the titular role in 2019’s The Man from Kathmandu, however the real revelation is Eyal Meyer (Dry Martini). Playing the student of the Zaror twin believed to in possession of the condor manual, Meyer is a master of the South Indian martial art of Kalarippayattu, considered to be the oldest martial art in the world.  While the style has been shown onscreen before in Tollywood productions like 2011’s 7 Aum Arivu, this is the first time for it to be showcased in a production outside of India, and it’s a highlight to see Meyer and Zaror go at it.

Fist of the Condor also sees a reunion with Korean Hapkido grandmaster Man Soo Yoon, who’s lived in Chile for over 20 years and runs a school there. Espinoza and Zaror originally met Soo Yoon when they were scouting locations in Santiago’s Korea Town for Kiltro in 2006, and upon finding his school in the street they planned to shoot in, the opportunity to work a Hapkido master into the story wasn’t one to be wasted. This is only his 2^nd time to appear onscreen since Kiltro, so there’s a nostalgia in seeing him back for those of us who watched Espinoza and Zaror’s debut at the time of its release, and I certainly wasn’t expecting to hear Korean in a Chilean movie!

Zaror himself gives probably his best performance yet in dual roles. He plays both twins in a quietly spoken manner, intended to reveal the tortured soul behind the characters, not dissimilar to what we saw in Redeemer. However while in that movie his delivery felt somewhat stilted and dull, here his measured portrayal works effectively in embodying the reflective nature of the narrative. His shaven headed twin gets the action beats, while his long-haired twin remains a passive observer, looking like a Latin cross between Michael Wincott’s villain in Highlander and Dan Chupong’s Crow Ghost from Ong Bak 2. Audiences may feel cheated that Fist of the Condor doesn’t deliver a Zaror vs. Zaror fight à la Jet Li in The One, despite the plot seemingly leading up to one, but on broader consideration of the themes being explored, the lack of a final confrontation between the pair actually makes sense.

Espinoza has crafted what feels like his most introspective piece of work with his latest, as themes of sacrifice, forgiveness, and perseverance are present throughout, without losing his (what I’ve come to call) poker faced sense of humour. While for the most part Fist of the Condor remains a straightlaced affair, there are moments of dry humour throughout, such as when the pages of the manual are revealed, and they show absurdly graphic drawings of someone’s intestines exploding out of their chest from a kick in the back. 

It’s been a long time since we’ve seen a kung-fu movie where everyone’s after a secret manual that teaches a deadly technique, but Fist of the Condor excels at both updating the concept for a modern audience, as well as paying homage to those slices of old-school goodness that preceded it. With wince inducing training sequences, an eyeliner wearing villain, and a narrative that relies almost entirely on the physical talents of its cast to sell the action, Espinoza and Zaror have created probably the closest we’ll get to a pure kung-fu movie in 2023, and who’d have thought it’d come out of Chile? Admittedly not me, but I’m glad it did.

Paul Bramhall ‘s Rating: 7.5/10