Legend of the Drunken Tiger (1991) Review

“Legend of the Drunken Tiger” DVD Cover

Director: Robert Tai
Cast: Kara Hui, Chui Kei-Wai, Alexander Lo Rei, Cheung Kwok Keung, Ku Feng, Ho Pak Kwong, Man Siu, Wong Hap, Lee Lung Yam, Chan Yue-Ching
Running Time: 98 min. 

By Paul Bramhall

The early 90’s was the peak era for the whole ”Legend of the….” title structure in Hong Kong cinema. Legend of the Dragon gave us Stephen Chow vs Jimmy White, Legend of the Liquid Sword gave us Aaron Kwok in a new wave wuxia, and if you lived in the US, chances are you watched Drunken Master II under the title Legend of the Drunken Master. Not to be outdone, 1991 also offered up Legend of the Drunken Tiger, a co-production between Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Mainland China, that was helmed by the legendary Robert Tai.

After being a bit player in various Chang Cheh productions for Shaw Brothers from the mid-70’s, when the Godfather of the Kung fu Film and his go-to choreographer Lau Kar-Leung parted ways, Tai seemed to step in as Cheh’s choreographer of choice. Mostly working with the Venoms, outside of his work at Shaw Brothers Tai notably choreographed the action in such out-there titles as Thundering Mantis, Calamity of Snakes, and A Fist Full of Talons (alongside Tony Leung Siu-Hung). By the time the 80’s rolled around and Shaw Brothers wound up their movie production, Tai moved back to Taiwan and became a director himself, showing a particular affinity for ninjas. 1983 gave us Shaolin Vs. Ninja, in 1984 we got Ninja Vs. Shaolin Guards, 1985 delivered Secret of Ninja, and arguably the most infamous of all, in 1986 the world was graced with Ninja: Final Duel.

After spending 1989 detoxing from ninjas by making Death Cage in Thailand, his next movie would find him in China for Legend of the Drunken Tiger. The early to mid-90’s seemed to be a Bermuda Triangle for new kung fu stars. Yang Fan debuted as the lead in Sammo Hung’s Blade of Fury in 1993, marking the arrival of a bright new talent, and went on to do precisely nothing (with the exception of a minor role in The Great Conqueror’s Concubine the following year). Willie Chi debuted in 1994 taking on the lead as Fong Sai Yuk in Burning Paradise and Wong Fei Hung in Drunken Master 3, as impressive an introduction as any new kung fu star could wish for, then vanished after appearing in a couple of kids kung fu flicks. Suffering a similar fate is the lead of Legend of the Drunken Tiger, Chui Kei-Wai, who faded into obscurity as quickly as he arrived (with the exception of a bit part in 1996’s Fist of Legend 2: Iron Bodyguards).

The plot dials back the zaniness of Tai’s ninja adventures, and instead opts for a formulaic tale of oppression. The Qing Dynasty has been giving the Han’s a hard time, and after 6 rebels are beheaded in the opening, the drunken Chui Kei-Wai sets his sights on a treacherous lord played by Shaw Brothers stalwart (and always welcome) Ku Feng. When a woman rebel being pursued by Feng’s lackeys takes refuge in a teahouse Kei-Wai is frequenting, we’re introduced to another Han-sympathiser in the form of Kara Hui (looking like she hasn’t aged a day since My Young Auntie 10 years earlier). Kei-Wai and Hui team up and come to the rescue, leading to Kei-Wai and the rebel escaping to the countryside and starting a life together. The catch is, Kei-Wai and Hui unknowingly share necklaces comprising broken jade that together form one piece, meaning that their parents betrothed them to each other during childhood.

Will Kei-Wai and Hui realise they’re meant for each other? Will Kei-Wai and the rebel’s love survive what’s pre-destined to be? Will Ku Feng get his comeuppance? None of these questions are answered in a satisfying manner, if at all, as around the half way point Tai decides he’s going to switch things up, and we suddenly have a narrator explain how in 1900 the world conspires to make a super-army against China, and only Kei-Wai and Hui can stop them (ok, the narration doesn’t cover that last part)! So, yes, we’re now in the Boxer Rebellion, with the army represented by a handful of extras, all of them Asians wearing blonde wigs and beards of varying quality. The switch to a sweeping epic is unfortunately not complimented by the budget, and events take a turn for the absurd which, in all truthfulness, makes it feel more like a Robert Tai flick than it has up until this point.

The super-army wonder around waving the flag of each country they represent, almost like an evil version of the Olympics Opening Ceremony, and proceed to rape and pillage any village they come across. Under one of the dubious blonde wigs is Alexander Lo Rei. If Robert Tai was the man behind the camera for much of Taiwan’s ninja output in the 80’s, then Lo Rei was the man in front of it. He’s the star of all of Tai’s previously mentioned ninja flicks, and also headlined the likes of The Super Ninja, Ninja Hunter, Ninja Kids, Ninja in USA, Ninja, the Battalion, and Ninja Condors. It’s hard to imagine another actor out there more closely associated with 80’s ninjas than Lo Rei, and of course the ironic thing is ninjas aren’t even Chinese.

Thankfully by the end of the 80’s Lo Rei had shook off his ninja obsession, and in the 90’s he choreographed and featured in some of the best Taiwanese action of the era with the likes of The Magic Amethyst, Revanchist, and 21 Red List. That choreography is also on display in Legend of the Drunken Tiger, which is co-credited to Tai and Yeh Yong (Killer’s Story, Firefox’s Killer). The trio had choreographed together before, notably on 1984’s Ninja Vs. Shaolin Guards and Five Fighters from Shaolin, and the action on display in Legend of the Drunken Tiger has their distinctive stamp all over it. A mix of weapons and empty-handed exchanges, what I loved about the choreography here is the power hit aesthetic, wherein someone receives a blow and literally goes flying off the screen from the impact. It seems to be a distinctly Taiwanese aesthetic, as it can also be seen in Donnie Yen’s Taiwanese movies like City of Darkness.

Despite Chui Kei-Wai clearly being a proficient martial artist, it’s Kara Hui who steals the show whenever she springs into action. A mix of gracefulness and ferocity, she gets a handful of scenes to show off her talents in an era when she was mostly featured in supporting roles, so to see her here in what’s essentially co-star status feels like a rare pleasure. The final fight pits her against Zhang Chun-Zhong (Once Upon a Time in China III, Kung Fu Cult Master) in the desert, and switches between swordplay and empty-handed exchanges. It’s a suitably intense encounter with plenty of hard-hitting blows, and Tai can’t seem to resist throwing in at least one distinctly ninja themed move, which will be immediately recognisable for anyone even mildly versed in 80’s ninja flicks.

While Hui deals with Chun-Zhong, Kei-Wai is left to face off in a 1 versus 4 throwdown against a group of foreigners (aka Asians in wigs – including Lo Rei). It’s a satisfying fight, switching between grounded exchanges and gravity defying hilarity, there’s much to enjoy. It’s a mild spoiler warning, but what I assume to be a cliff-hanger ending is equal parts bewildering and bizarre, involving Kei-Wai and Hui escaping the foreign army by swimming out to open sea while being fired at. Where exactly are they swimming to!? Why did they choose the sea!? The initial shot is filmed close, leading me to assume it was a river and they were swimming to the other side, so when the camera panned out and it was revealed to be the ocean, my confusion was still setting in when the credits appeared onscreen. But, if you’re a kung fu movie fan, abrupt or befuddling endings should certainly come as no surprise!

If anything, Legend of the Drunken Tiger would have benefitted from more of the intense action we get in the finale. There are action beats scattered throughout, but they’re sporadic, and despite the plot going in every direction and then some, there are periods which feel plodding and, ironically, directionless. It’s not so surprising Kei-Wai didn’t go onto become a star, as all eyes in 1991 were pretty much on Jet Li with the release of Once Upon a Time in China, but he does a solid if unremarkable job as the lead (definitely falling into the spilling more than drinking category of drunken master). For fans of Kara Hui though, and everyone should be, she owns the screen when she’s on it, and it’s great to see her unleash in a period setting under the influence of the early 90’s high impact choreography style. For that alone, it comes with a tentative recommendation.

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 5.5/10