Hidden Blade (2023) Review

“Hidden Blade” Theatrical Poster

Director: Cheng Er
Cast: Tony Leung, Wang Yibo, Chengpeng Dong, Zhou Xun, Eric Wang, Huang Lei, Hiroyuki Mori
Running Time: 130 min. 

By Paul Bramhall

Spy thrillers set in the 30’s and 40’s have become something of a genre unto themselves in the Chinese film industry during the last decade or so, with titles likes Alan Mak and Felix Chong’s The Silent War, Ann Hui’s Our Time Will Come, and Chen Kaige’s Cliff Walkers all indulging in tales of espionage and subterfuge. The latest production to return to the period of Japan occupied China comes in the form of director Cheng Er’s Hidden Blade, who himself is no stranger to the setting, having also used it as the backdrop for the last time he sat in the director’s chair with 2016’s The Wasted Times.

Providing an always welcome return to the big screen for Tony Leung (Hard Boiled, Europe Raiders), here he plays the head of the Political Security Department, overseen by an ambitious Japanese officer played by Hiroyuki Mori (Railroad Heroes). Leung’s day-to-day role sees him tasked with rooting out the underground network of communists looking to overthrow the Japanese, and while initially it would seem Hidden Blade offers a similarly conflicted villain role to that he played in 2007’s Lust, Caution, in reality the cinematic landscape in China has changed significantly in the succeeding 16 years. So, far from having a main character be one who willingly works for the Japanese, somewhat expectedly it turns out he also secretly works for the communists. 

Former K-pop boyband member Wang Yibo (Born to Fly, A Chinese Odyssey: Part 3) is also onboard playing one of Leung’s colleagues in the same department, however it turns out that he may also be a secret communist too. Do the pair know that each of them is secretly supporting the same cause, does the Japanese officer sense there may be traitors in the ranks, will it all lead to a tragic misunderstanding? They’re all questions that lend themselves to a compelling plot, however Er treats the material in such a heavy-handed way that the whole experience becomes a tour de force in dour filmmaking practically devoid of any energy or narrative thrust.

From a production perspective, there’s no doubt that it’s a gorgeous movie to look at, with period detail and lighting all evoking a mood of the era, even if it comes at the cost of scenes frequently opening with characters positioned as if it was a magazine shoot rather than a spy thriller. However it takes more than luscious production design to create a good movie, and outside of the visual aesthetic the 130-minute runtime quickly becomes a punishing chore to get through in a single sitting. Characters speak in stilted conversations, full of extended pauses, and even more extended shots of cigarettes being smoked, robbing scenes of any potential to build up tension or ramp up the stakes. As an audience we get that hushed tones and measured conversations underpin the seriousness of the circumstances, so if no one is going to get flustered, a good filmmaker needs to find other avenues to create a sense of what’s at stake.

Er fails at this in most spectacular fashion mainly through his choice to have events play out non-chronologically. Any kind of non-linear narration needs to serve a specific purpose, be it the reveal of a new perspective or a crucial plot point we weren’t aware of previously, casting events in a new light. However the handling of his jumbled-up timeline that plays out across 1938 to 1946 feels haphazard at best, with the constant skipping back and forth offering up no real impact or revelations compared to if they’d played out in order, feeling more like a director painfully overplaying his hand. At its worst, the construction of one particular plot point allows for a gratuitously CCP pandering final line to be spoken before the end credits roll, which is sure to induce audible groans out of many who watch it, myself included.

With the timeline switching effectively robbing the bloated runtime of any kind of forward thrust in terms of narrative, I realised Hidden Blade was becoming the first real movie to test a line I once spoke a long time ago that went something along the lines of “I could watch Tony Leung in anything.” Indeed as an actor Leung has lost none of his sense of gravitas or ability to convey a feeling with just a single look, and if anything, it’s his performance alone that will keep viewers watching, even if it feels like we know little else about his character at the end than we did at the start. In a way its indicative of another major issue with Hidden Blade, in that the plot is far too concerned with the consequences of the events surrounding the characters rather than the actual characters themselves, resulting in the audience having no one to relate to, or at least root for.

The production is the first major role for Wang Yibo, one of two headlining turns he’d made in 2023 (the other being Born to Fly), having only played supporting roles so far. There’s no denying he looks the part, although when acting alongside Leung it’s clear he doesn’t quite have the screen presence yet to carry a movie alone. Perhaps Er thought so too since, even though he’s top billed with Leung, his character actually doesn’t make any kind of significant appearance until about an hour in. With that being said, he is given the most human moments, becoming involved in a revenge plot that finally gives the audience a character motivation to connect with beyond cheering for the communists.

The introduction of Yibo’s motives also set the stage for a tonally jarring final 40 minutes which risks coming across like a different movie altogether. The measured pacing gives way to sudden passionate kisses between two characters that could be their last, the unintended kinetic nature of such a scene set against the “people in rooms chatting” stillness that’s dominated the runtime making it almost come across as comedic. There’s also an epic throwdown between Leung and Yibo that sees the pair go at each other and dish out a ridiculous amount of punishment, suplexes included, which feels like it doesn’t quite gel with everything that’s come before. Hidden Blade does have an action choreographer in the form of Chen Chao, who worked on both Ip Man 3 and Ip Man 4, so perhaps he just wanted to make sure he earned his pay cheque and decided to go all out for their one on one.

Outside of the leads the supporting cast all do a stellar job, with the production providing a reunion for Leung and Zhou Xun (Painted Skin, True Legend) who starred together in the previously mentioned The Silent War in 2012. Xun has remained one of the most interesting actresses working in China since the 2000’s, and while her role here is relatively minor, it still carries a significant impact to the overall plot. Da Peng (Journey to the West: The Demons Strike Back, The Thousand Faces of Dunjia), who’s perhaps best known for 2015’s Jian Bing Man in which he starred, directed, wrote, and produced, also shows up as one of the ministers, further showing his ability to play it straight as well as he does in comedic roles.

Despite the strong cast and rich production values, Hidden Blade feels like a missed opportunity. The measured pacing and poker-faced delivery are somewhat of a trademark of Chinese thrillers set in this era, however productions like Lust, Caution have proven that’s not an obstacle to creating tension and, more importantly, to keep it simmering on a slow burn. The biggest challenge that Er faces with Hidden Blade is that it feels like he forgot to turn on the gas, so scenes just play out one after the other, but it never feels like anything is building to a meaningful conclusion or that there’s something worthwhile for the audience to invest in. At one point a character says, “I failed in the end because I let emotions get in my way.” Ironically, Hidden Blade fails precisely because it’s such an emotionless affair, leaving only a feeling of emptiness when the end credits roll.

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 5/10