On July 2nd, 2019 Lionsgate is releasing John Herzfeld’s Escape Plan: The Extractors, on Digital 4K Ultra HD, Blu-ray Combo Pack (plus DVD and Digital) and DVD.
From Emmy®-nominated writer-director John Herzfeld (1998, Outstanding Directing for a Miniseries or a Movie, Don King: Only in America) and co-writer Miles Chapman comes this epic third installment to Escape Plan.
Screen legend Sylvester Stallone kicks this explosive action tale into high gear. After security expert Ray Breslin (Stallone) is hired to rescue the kidnapped daughter of a Hong Kong tech mogul from a formidable Latvian prison, Breslin’s girlfriend (King) is also captured. Now he and his team must pull off a deadly rescue mission to confront their sadistic foe and save the hostages before time runs out.
The Escape Plan: The Extractors Digital 4K Ultra HD copy, Blu-ray, and DVD will include an audio commentary with director John Herzfeld, Sylvester Stallone, Devon Sawa, and Daniel Bernhardt as well as the featurette “The Making of Escape Plan: The Extractors,” which features never-before-seen cast and crew interviews that explain what it took to make this white-knuckle film.
The Escape Plan: The Extractors Blu-ray Combo Pack and DVD will be available for the price of $24.99 and $19.98, respectively.
Director: Oliver Siu Kuen Chan Writer: Oliver Siu Kuen Chan Cast: Anthony Wong, Crisel Consunji, Sam Lee Chan-Sam, Cecilia Yip Tung, Wong Ting-Him Running Time: 115 min.
By Martin Sandison
One of the all-time greatest actors in Hong Kong movie history, Anthony Wong (The Untold Story), has appeared in so many of the classics in his time, in so many different genres, he’s unclassifiable. In recent times, Wong has shown outspoken support for the Umbrella movement in Hong Kong, and has taken a stance against the Mainland Chinese Government’s growing control of Hong Kong society. This has resulted in him being put on a blacklist for making films in China, and with the vast majority of Hong Kong movies being fully or partially funded by China, work has dried up for him. Enter the growing Independent film scene, and like Eric Tsang and Shawn Yue in Mad World (2016) three years ago, Wong waved his payment and worked to an incredibly tight schedule to make the low key drama Still Human last year. A revelatory performance, one that saw him win the Hong Kong film award for best actor, and beautifully sympathetic direction from first time director Oliver Chan, as well as great support from newcomer Crisel Consunji make the film a must-watch for fans of Wong and the vital new style of Hong Kong cinema.
Cheong-Wing Leung (Wong) is a middle-aged man who is paralysed from the waist down after a construction site accident. Enter his new carer, Evelyn (Consunji), a Filipino immigrant who really needs the job. At first, Cheong-Wing is indignant and makes Evelyn’s life a misery, but as time goes on the two create a bond full of empathy, respect and support for each other. As they learn about each others lives and loves, a complex portrait of humanity is painted.
Mad World is a film I connect with on a personal level, as some of the experiences the characters go through in the film I can relate to. However, the film is so heavy and, as one friend put it, overly earnest, it’s not one I could watch again and again. Still Human, on the other hand, is so light, humorous and engaging in a sweet, natural way that I want to revisit it very soon. What impresses me so much about the upcoming directors like Chan and Wong Chun (director of Mad World) is that both films feel in the tradition of Hong Kong film-making – there is an innate Hong Kong-ness about them, but they avoid the pitfalls of older dramatic cues which put off many international viewers; namely saccharine, schmaltzy, cheesy aspects. Still Human has elements of the Hong Kong dramatic tradition in its style and approach, Chan said the classic Comrades: Almost a Love Story (1996) was an influence, but rises above them and has a playful feel in its performances and aesthetic that takes a left turn.
To say this is one of the best performances I’ve ever seen from Anthony Wong is not hyperbole; the awards and kudos he has received from all areas attest to this opinion. A world away from the excesses of Category 3 gems like Ebola Syndrome (1996) and cool gangster chic of films such as Exiled (2006), it’s one full of nuance, humour and humanity. Cheong-Wing seems a broken man in the opening scenes of the film, but regains his spirit as he sees the vitality and compassion of Evelyn. Consunji conveys this with great heart, and it’s no small feat that she manages to be a worthwhile screen partner for Wong, and also gives a voice to Filipino immigrants who live in Hong Kong.
The character arc of Cheong-Wing is one that lends itself to depth, and with a talent like Wong this is portrayed in quite beautifully. His rediscovery of life and companionship is communicated in a subtle and underlyingly powerful way, one that does not seem forced or pretentious, but real. When Evelyn lies to Cheong-Wing about selling a camera to provide for her family, he is understandably angry; but the empathetic side of him and the development of this as the film goes on means he cannot stay this way.
With the size of talent Chan managed to secure in Wong, this led to supporting parts by some other Hong Kong icons. Sam Lee (Wild City) plays Cheong-Wing’s old friend, and it’s great to see them together again onscreen, with my frame of reference being the brilliant Beast Cops. He plays up the amusing side of the film, like in one scene when the two have a porn marathon once Evelyn has left one day. Cecilia Yip (To Be Number One) also turns up. Onboard as producer is Fruit Chan (The Midnight After), whose career has had a resurgence of late with the upcoming Invincible Dragon and a film that has to be seen to be believed, the sexually extreme but comedic Three Husbands (2018).
There are some problems with the film’s presentation; sure you can give leeway for an ultra-low budget and tight production schedule, but there is a lacklustre visual sense at times. For my money, Mad World had a better style married with its substance. Scenes with other actors featured also fall a little flat, especially with the other Filipino characters that Evelyn befriends, despite adding to the dimensions of her character as an immigrant.
Still Human is a film that resonates hope; something in these critically uncertain times we all need. The new low key dramatic approach, with other movies such as the worthy recent offering The Crossing (2014) bolstering the genre, gives me hope for the future of Hong Kong film making. While we may bemoan the move away from what was once the vital action genre, with movies like these coming from new voices, it’s not all so bad.
After several years spent working almost exclusively in the direct-to-video world of “V-cinema” in Japan, Takashi Miike announced himself as a world-class filmmaking talent with this trio of thematically-connected, character-centric crime stories about violence, the underworld of Japanese society, families both real and surrogate, and the possibly hopeless task of finding one’s place in the world. His first films made specifically for theatrical release, and his first for a major studio, the Black Society Trilogy was the beginning of Miike’s mature career as a filmmaker and they remain among the prolific director’s finest works.
Set in the bustling Kabuki-cho nightlife neighborhood of Tokyo, Shinjuku Triad Society follows a mixed-race cop (Kippei Shiina, Outrage) struggling with private issues while hunting a psychotic criminal (Tomorowo Taguchi, Tetsuo the Iron Man) who traffics in children’s organs. Rainy Dog, shot entirely in Taiwan, is about an exiled yakuza (Dead or Alive’s Show Aikawa) who finds himself saddled with a son he never knew he had and a price on his head after the Chinese gang he works for decides to turn on him. Ley Lines moves from the countryside to the city and back, as three Japanese youths of Chinese descent (including The Raid 2’s Kazuki Kitamura) seek their fortune in Tokyo, only to run afoul of a violent gang boss (Naoto Takenaka, The Happiness of the Katakuris).
Three of the most dramatically moving films created by the director, the Black Society Trilogy offers clear proof that Miike’s frequent pigeonholing as a specialist in bloody spectacle is only one aspect of his filmmaking career, and taken as a whole, the films are among the finest works ever to deal with the way violence and brutality can unexpectedly destroy even the most innocent of lives.
The fictional character of Chen Zhen – previously made famous by Bruce Lee in Fist of Fury (1972), Jet Li in Fist of Legend (1994) and Donnie Yen in both a 90’s Hong Kong TV show and in Legend of the Fist: The Return of Chen Zhen (2010), is once again proving that Chinese are not “the sick men of Asia.”
Directed by Scott Ma Zhongxuan (who served as one of the action directors in 2000’s Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon), Chen Zhen Legend (or Legend Chen Zhen) stars Li Hao, Cai Xinru, Bell Jin, Waise Lee (A Bullet in the Head) and Huang Ziyao.
According to press releases, Chen Zhen Legend does not rely on cool special effects and flowers and fists, does not use substitutes, and focuses on the charm of traditional Chinese kung fu, in order to achieve a higher visual enjoyment for the audience (via CZX).
Chen Zhen Legend will premier on Youku’s online streaming service on June 14th. Don’t miss the film’s Trailer below:
On July 23, 2019, Film Movement is releasing the Blu-ray & DVD for King Hu’s classic The Fate of Lee Khan (1973). For the first time ever, the film is being presented in a Brand New 2K restoration.
Read the official details below:
Synopsis: In his follow-up to the critically acclaimed A Touch of Zen, trailblazing filmmaker King Hu brings together an all-star female cast, including Hong Kong cinema stalwart Li Li-hua (The Grand Substitution) and Angela “Lady Kung Fu” Mao (The Association), in this lively martial arts adventure.
When Lee Khan, a powerful general of the oppressive Yuan Dynasty, procures the battle map of the Chinese rebel army, resistance fighters, aided by an undercover girl-gang, strive to corner him at an inn. Featuring stunning action sequences choreographed by Jackie Chan’s “Kung Fu elder brother” Sammo Hung and a generous mix of intrigue and humor, The Fate of Lee Khan is a legendary wuxia masterpiece.
On July 30th, 2019, Well Go USA will be releasing the Blu-ray & DVD for The Island, a film that marks the directorial debut of Huang Bo (Mojin: The Lost Legend), who also stars, alongside Shu Qi (The Assassin).
In The Island, a cataclysmic event during a team-building trip, leaves a man shipwrecked on an island with an odd group of coworkers… and a winning lottery ticket in his pocket.
Rounding up the rest of the cast are Wang Baoqiang (Kung Fu Jungle), Zhang Yixing (Kung Fu Yoga), Yu Hewei (Mr. Six), Wang Xun (Lost in Hong Kong) and Li Qinqin (The Bodyguard).
Outlaw Gangster VIP Collection | Blu-ray (Arrow Video)
Today’s Deal on Fire is for Arrow Video’s Blu-ray for the Outlaw Gangster VIP Collection.
In 1968, acclaimed director Toshio Masuda (Rusty Knife, Tora! Tora! Tora!) and rising star Tetsuya Watari (Tokyo Drifter) teamed up for Outlaw: Gangster VIP, a gritty yakuza yarn based on the writings of real life ex-gangster Goro Fujita
The series offers up a depiction of the Japanese underworld that was unprecedented in its realism and its sympathetic portrayal of its protagonist as a man haunted by his past, unable to escape a life of crime. The success of the initial instalment spawned five sequels, continuing the story of the lone wolf “Slasher” Goro and his quest for redemption
The films presented a new kind of realism and violence that would prefigure Kinji Fukasaku’s Battles Without Honor and Humanity series, with their winning combination of brutal violence, gang warfare and sweeping romance, these films make for a unique and unforgettable viewing experience
The set includes six films in the Outlaw series released for the first time in the west: Gangster VIP (our review), Gangster VIP 2 (our review), Heartless (our review), Goro the Assassin (our review), Black Dagger (our review), and Kill! (our review).
In the world of cinema the word ‘epic’ gets thrown around a lot these days, with what often feels like little time spent on justifying if the movie in question is truly deserving of the description. However one movie that definitely warrants the term, is director Jia Zhang-Ke’s latest Ash is Purest White. Although on paper it may be described as a sprawling gangster epic, onscreen it’s a very different beast. A more appropriate description would be a sprawling epic of one woman’s journey to redefine herself, set against the world of jianghu (the Chinese title directly translates to ‘Sons and Daughters of Jianghu’).
After experimenting with the omnibus format for 2013’s A Touch of Sin and 2015’s Mountains May Depart, Ash is Purest White marks a return for Zhang-Ke to the more linear narrative format. A French and Chinese co-production, Zhang-Ke casts his wife and frequent collaborator Zhao Tao as a boisterous owner of a small mah-jong parlour, one who’s taken a liking to a local gangster played by Liao Fan. A talented actress, Tao rarely acts outside of productions not helmed by her husband, but never has she been as front and center as she is here. While it’s the first time for Fan to work with the director, after his award winning turn in Black Coal, Thin Ice, to see him work with Zhang-Ke is an exciting prospect.
In a story spanning from 2001 to 2018, Ash is Purest White feels like a movie of 2 halves. During the first half Tao feels very much like the gangsters moll. When we see Fan watching Chow Yun Fat stocking up on armaments in Tragic Hero, Tao tells him he’s been watching too many gangster movies, and indeed the influence of the Hong Kong Triad genre seems to act as an unspoken rulebook to Fan’s more grounded endeavours. Moments of tension appear from minor, almost inconsequential events, such as when Fan’s dancing gets a little too energetic in a disco, and the gun he has tucked in the back of his pants falls to the floor. Tao stares at him silently, and for a few moments we’re not sure what’s going to happen next, before the tension lifts and they carry on dancing together.
It’s when the pair visit a local volcano that the worlds they perceive themselves to live in are defined – Fan describes the jianghu world they live in as a dangerous one, but Tao insists she’s not a part of it. Fan hands her his gun to study, before taking her arm and guiding her to fire off a round, after which he states “you are now.” This single act leads to wider consequences when the car they’re being escorted in finds itself being surrounded by a motorbike gang from a rival faction. After both the driver and Fan attempt to fight them off, it becomes clear they’re outnumbered, and they begin to get heavily beaten. Unable to watch her boyfriend being pummelled to a pulp anymore, Tao gets out of the car armed with the gun, and fires off two warning shots. The gang disperse, and she’s sent to prison for 5 years for owning an illegal firearm and discharging it in public.
When she gets out in 2006, she expects Fan to be waiting for her, but instead, he’s nowhere to be found. Life has moved on, and so has he, but Tao wants to hear it come directly from him that they’re no longer together. So begins an almost road trip like odyssey through the vastly changing landscapes of a rapidly developing China, as she endeavours to track Fan down, and in doing so find the closure that she thinks she needs. Track him down she does, and they continue to float in and out of each other’s lives over the course of the next 12 years, with each time they meet the boundaries of the jianghu world redefining the dynamics of their relationship.
There’s no mistaking that Ash is Purest White is not a movie for everyone. It has a deliberate pace which will either immerse the viewer, or leave them feeling alienated, but for those willing to drift through the 17 years the story encompasses, it’s a rewarding experience. In many ways Zhang-Ke’s latest shares DNA with the socially conscious dramas that came out of Korea in the 1970’s, as the same rapid urban development that took place then is reflected in what China is going through now, and the displaced souls that go with it. During a cruise along the Three Gorges which passes the city of Fengjie, the announcer explains how the building of a dam will mean that in a few years everything will be underwater, its residents relocated. In another scene the camera pans over rows and rows of identical tower blocks, intentionally providing a stark contrast to the rustic streets we see at the beginning, and reflective of the upheaval in both Tao and Fan.
It’s on the cruise where Tao gets swindled out of her money, and suddenly finds herself having to rely on only her wits to get by. Although she never considered herself a part of the jianghu world, she soon finds herself a part of it through necessity, as her determination to survive sees her enact a series of smartly staged scams just to get through the night. In one of the earlier scenes, Fan explains a misdemeanour to Tao by falling back on how it’s a jianghu thing, so she wouldn’t understand. By the time it’s 2018, a wheelchair bound Fan is being wheeled around a vast sports stadium, still in the middle of being built, his carer a black leather adorned Tao (looking like the sister of Lee Young-ae in Sympathy for Lady Vengeance). The balance of power has changed, and now Tao finds herself using the same line on Fan, an indicator of how far their worlds have grown apart.
In the hands of French DP Eric Gautier Ash is Purest White employs a variety of visual looks, including experimenting with the aspect ratio. When proceedings open they’re shot in 1:85, before later on shifting to the more traditional widescreen ratio that we’re accustomed to. It’s a bold move, and plays well to incite the passing of time. By the time events return back to the mah-jong parlour in Shanxi, director Zhang-Ke’s hometown, the full weight of the 17 years is felt through the smallest of changes. Where once insignificant moments passed with no furore, now everyone has a smartphone in their hand, and Fan’s return to his old stomping ground is recorded by those that used to know him. The old world of the jianghu has changed, with all the drinking and hustling that it once entailed taking its toll on those that were in it.
Like the characters onscreen, Zhang-Ke also appears to hold a degree of affection for the Hong Kong triad flicks that populated the screens during their formative years. In addition to the clip from Tragic Hero, Sally Yeh’s song Xiao Sa Zou Yi Hui from The Killer both opens the movie and drifts in and out of the 135 minute runtime, as nostalgic for some of us as it is for the characters we hear the song playing over. It could be argued that Fan’s state ultimately reflects a more realistic outcome for someone like Mark Gor, with the alcohol fuelled brotherhood portrayed in the earlier scenes nowhere to be seen once times get tough. Fan was a big fish in a small pond, but when that pond got dredged to make way for the latest redevelopment, there was no last hurrah for glory in a hail of bullets and explosions, just a lost soul looking for former glories that were no longer there to be found.
Special mention should also go to Zhang-Ke’s frequent composer Giong Lim (The Assassin, Long Day’s Journey Into Night), whose score incorporates both traditional Chinese instruments, through to the throbbing synthesizers that linger on during the later scenes. Music may be used sparingly, but when it’s there it enhances every scene it’s in, reflecting an understanding that’s been developed through their many collaborations together.
For newcomers to Zhang-Ke’s work, Ash is Purest White would be a good starting point. It’s easily his most reflective work to date, and as his muse Tao offers up an amazing performance that anchors the whole movie. She’s rarely off the screen, and not once do you tire of her being on it. Spanning the human spectrum of emotions from the carefree and adventurous, to being bound by a sense of duty and honor, the way her and Fan’s lives cross each other at various points makes for an engaging journey for those that attune to it. Like The Master and Shadow, the reined in emotions and deliberate pacing will be off-putting for some, but for everyone else Ash is Purest White deserves a chance to be seen. Providing a powerful insight into both what it means to reinvent yourself, as well as knowing when to let someone go, it’s a poignant and sometimes gruelling journey, but one that’s undeniably worth taking.
On July 30th, 2019, Well Go USA will release the Blu-ray for The Swindlers (read our review), a crime-caper from first-time director Jang Chang-won.
The Swindlers involves a con artist who goes head to head with a corrupt prosecutor. It’s a game of revenge, fraud and elimination from both sides of the field.
“Young Lovers on Flying Wheels” Chinese Theatrical Poster
AKA: The Motorcycle Director: Ti Lung Cast: Ti Lung, Ching Hoh Wai, Got Dik Wa, Dean Shek Tien, Lee Man Tai, Lam Fai Wong, Gam Gwan, Lee Hoi San, Chiang Nan, Lo Wai, Wu Ma, John Woo Running Time: 99 min.
By Matthew Le-feuvre
Although, in part, influenced by the ‘biker’ B-flicks of 60’s Americana. This interesting ‘variation on the theme’ was a radical departure for matinee idol, Ti Lung; whose ‘then’ career had been proliferous under Chang Cheh’s mighty guardianship before moving on to collaborate with the analogous likes of Sun Chung, Lo Chen and Tang Chia. Here, this inclusion to Lung’s (already) hulking filmography – bar exception his anaemic cameo in The Generation Gap (1973) as well as the erstwhile, long overlooked Dead End (1969), was more or less engineered to be an urban commentary on 70’s materialism; in this case, a Suzuki motorcycle and the accompanying social status that comes with owning one.
In a change from the habitual slew of wuxia theatre or the empty hand dynamics of The Savage Five or They Call Him Mr. Shatter (both, also 1974), Lung dutifully and creatively appropriates duel responsibilities of leading man/director for what tentatively appears to be an endearing essay about the fundemental standards of ‘life decisions’ and the ‘maturity’ to effectuate the importance of emotional growth over conceited ambition or needless ‘materialistic’ philosophies: being the “best” or possessing the “best” does not necessarily conjure limitless happiness or contentment. In fact, it can also (un)intentionally draw its opposites – society being superfluous with ‘hungry wolves’, ever prowling for opportunity, hoping too inherit the slightest fraction of the top dog’s mantle.
While this is a minor aspect of I Keung’s bulky, if not frenetic screenplay, Lung is certainly assiduous in tackling these contemporary issues and situational ingredients which; for the sake of external padding, emerge in frequency to the point of ridiculousness, I.e, Loan sharks who (instead of regular re-payments) want to peddle Lung’s rare blood type to two inept thieves played with moronic abandon by stalwarts: Li Hoi San and the over gesticulative Dean Shek, toppled by the contrived inclusion of a potential father-in-law who abhors bikes of any description, involuntarily morphes into a dramatic impediment rather than anchoring audiences into states of empathy,
Lest do we ignore that these mushrooming subplots and emotionally bloated diversions actually smokescreens the essential crux about an office clerk’s singular passion (or obsession?!) for motorcycles. Yet, from a psychological perspective, this hehaviour would be a typical catagorization for a neo-freudian where the bike itself becomes a symbolic extension of the character’s (Song Da/Lung) manhood; whilst in concurrent terms his zealous need for ownership via unorthodox means (entering a kung fu tournament) subtly represents/conceals an inability to interact with society and relationships in general, particularly from the picture’s opening shots of Song Da/Lung rejecting his girlfriend’s amourous advances to ensueing sequences where he’s virtually hypnotized outside a dealership showroom.
As per usual, Lung is worthy of acclamation, combining social naivety with forceful resolve for a performance, which, although supported by a consistent flux of balletic altercations – courtesy of Liu Chia Liang/Lau Kar Wing’s toned-down action arrangements, undividedly showcases a very complex, not necessarily ‘heroic’ character who is basically a ‘victim of circumstance’ despite being (A): one-dimensional in his thinking, (B): competitive the next to (C); a complete egotist governed by his own maxims until external factors truly challenge him both in combat and reponsively. Thus birthing an optimistic conclusion.
In a profound way, one could assert that the characteristic nuances of Song Da/Lung are to some extent almost a physical epitomization of the late Robert South’s philosophical/psychological observance on “possessions”:
“In all worldly things that man pursues with the greatest eagerness and intention of mind, he finds not half the pleasure in the actual possession of them as he proposed to himself in expectation”.
Verdict: By no means a memorable or essential Shaw Brothers classic. Still, regardless of “too many situations” that tends to ricochet from urbanized drama to replicative incongruity, when viewed today, Ti Lung’s proficient direction and usage of familiar locations/stock players; contrarily, adds a touch of nostalgic charm as well as a sense of irony to an otherwise pretentious excursion into mediocrity.
Watch out for an extremely youthful John Woo in an unflattering cameo, sobbing at a police reclamation vehicle depot. Needless too say, twelve years later, woo would rescue Lung’s declining career by casting him as one of the triumvirate leads for his pioneering gangster epic: A Better Tomorrow (1986).
Following in the footsteps of blockbuster Mojin: The Lost Legend and based on the bestselling novel series, Mojin: The Worm Valley once again finds legendary tomb explorer Hu Bayi on a dangerous mission as he seeks out the Tomb of Emperor Xian, located on an island of monstrous creatures in this mystical action-adventure.
Mojin: The Worm Valley stars Cai Heng, Gu Xuan, Yu Heng, Chen Yusi, Ma Yuke, Cheng Taishen.
Director: Bey Logan Writer: Bey Logan Cast: Kevin Brewerton, Lang-Xing Ye, Lo Meng, Bianca Stam, James Nan, Yang Yifan, Ray Li Running Time: 90 min.
By Paul Bramhall
It’s fair to say that any self-respecting review of The Dark Soul should get the elephant in the room out of the way at the start. The production marks the directorial debut of Hong Kong film expert Bey Logan (and no, it’s not autobiographical), who in more recent times has become known as the Hong Kong based associate of Harvey Weinstein. At the end of 2017, in the midst of the #metoo movement, the magazine HK01 carried a feature in which seven local actresses detailed Logan’s own unwanted sexual advances towards them. The only actress who allowed herself to be named, Sable Yu, had been cast as the star of Logan’s first crack at directing, Snowblade. In the article she explained that the harassment she suffered onset led to her departing the production, explaining the oft asked question of when it was ever going to see the light of day. With filming never completed, at least the answer is now a clear one.
A little under a year of radio silence later, and Logan re-emerged, revealing that he was once more stepping into the director’s chair. Gone were the Hong Kong locales and well-known names we were used to seeing in his frequently posted social media photos, and in their place was the Mainland setting of Shenzhen, along with a cast of mostly first time actors and his sons. The tale of an American in an Asian city looking for an Asian, with the help of an Asian (I’m paraphrasing here, but this is very close to an actual spoken line), The Dark Soul is an oddity of a movie, if even that.
Kevin Brewerton, an obscure actor who’s previously had small parts in the likes of the 2001 Loren Avedon vehicle Silent Force, and Art Camacho’s 13 Dead Men from 2003, is here propelled to the lead of a feature length production for the first time in his filmography. He’s been suffering from visions of being murdered, and finds himself being able to write Chinese and perform kung fu, even though he’s never had any experience of either. So he heads off to China with a hand drawn picture of the Chinese man he believes he’s seeing things from the perspective of, with his only aim to find out who this man is. Bizarrely, the drawing is referred to as a photo throughout, offering up the first of The Dark Soul’s many puzzling moments.
Once there, a policeman he randomly approaches puts him in contact with a guy who may be able to help. Played by Lang-Xing Ye, the pair form what can best be described as a subtly homoerotic partnership, in which Brewerton pays Ye for his services, and together they walk around, hang out in Ye’s apartment, and generally become inseparable. That is, for better or worse, just about all that happens in The Dark Soul. I’m not sure if it was intentionally written into the script for them to come across like they’re flirting, but onscreen, it’s all rather weird. Ye offers a hospital receptionist his phone number, and when she agrees to take it, he tells her “maybe later”. Then in the closing scene of the movie, Brewerton receives a kiss from a female character, which he looks repulsed by, before he runs back to Ye and they talk about spending time in New York together. Perhaps Logan is angling himself to be the next Chang Cheh.
Frankly, A Dark Soul is a horrendous watch, and the only possible reason I can think as to why it was completed at all, is because it looks like it cost hardly anything to make. There’s been no color grading done to the image, which gives the visuals a similar look to if they’ve been filmed on an iPhone. The camerawork is inconsistent throughout, constantly wobbling and shaking, in a way which indicates the cameraman was probably going cold turkey from an illicit substance. For somebody who’s had 25 years of experience in the movie industry, there’s not a single element of the mercifully short (although it certainly doesn’t feel that way) 90 minute runtime which indicates anything’s been learnt about the filmmaking process.
As leading man material, Brewerton is a strange choice. This is the first time I’ve seen him in anything, and his demeanour has something of what I can best refer to as a Mr. Bean like aura. There’s a look of constant befuddlement in his expressions which isn’t intentional, and despite being a five time world kickboxing champion, he does very little of either. These days his main passion is neither kickboxing nor acting, but painting, so quite how he managed to get roped into this strange endeavour is beyond me. I’d hedge my bets that he likely wasn’t the first choice for the role, because at one point a character references him as “the white guy”, despite him being, well, not white.
Amidst all of the walking from one place to the next, Brewerton and Ye get up to all kinds of nonsense. At one point Brewerton suddenly runs away, and moments later Ye catches up to find him with a tub of red paint, writing Chinese characters (or “symbols” as they’re referred to in the script) on flattened cardboard boxes stuck to a wall. How he wrote the Chinese characters is supposed to be the mystery, but I found myself more intrigued on why a tub of red paint (complete with a brush!) had apparently just been laying there in the street, and Brewerton knew its exact location to be able to run to it. In another scene there’s clearly a fountain just out of shot, because the sound of water temporarily drowns out their voices, so you can’t actually hear what’s being said.
In fact the sound overall is an assault on the ears. The ADR is a mess, with voice tones changing within the same scene, and the music is overbearingly loud, driving any spoken dialogue so far into the background it sometimes becomes inaudible. Then, just when you think proceedings can’t get any more mundane, at the 70 minute mark, Lo Meng of Five Deadly Venoms fame turns up. Before you question why someone of Meng’s calibre would show up in a production like this, it’s worth bearing in mind that he also turned up in the Logan produced girls in bikinis volleyball flick, Beach Spike, from 2011. For all of the 5 minutes (possibly less) he’s onscreen, he pours some tea (via some kung fu shapes work), indulges in bit of old-school tea drinking kung-foolery, and yells “Good luck guys!” in another ADR ear assault. Just be thankful we’ll always have his classics with the rest of the Venoms crew to enjoy.
Somewhere amidst the constant shots of the McDonalds that Brewerton can see from his hotel window, the plot throws us a villain in the form of hospital benefactor/organ trafficker Bianca Stam, who had a small role in Chasing the Dragon. Stam is the best part of The Dark Soul, although that’s admittedly only because she’s clearly a native English speaker, so can actually put some energy and zest into her line delivery. Brewerton is as well of course, but he mistakes his catatonic line delivery for conveying a cool exterior. It should be noted that all but a handful of lines are spoken in English, even though the script clearly hasn’t been written with a thought that it’ll be being performed by non-native English speakers, which makes for some awkward line delivery. Logan is also responsible for the script, and there’s an over reliance on smart ass banter and tough guy one-liners for it to be taken seriously.
Connie Chan in particular, the only other female character of note, gets laden with some horrendous clunkers. Playing the former lover of the man Brewerton keeps having visions from the perspective of, her expression remains poker faced, no matter what kind of emotions the scene she’s in calls for. If there’s one highlight of The Dark Soul worth mentioning, it’s that it contains the most laugh out loud CGI explosion effect I’ve ever seen committed to film, matched only by the reactions of Brewerton and Le, who are apparently supposed to be caught in it. The fact that it’s actually in the finished product, is as stronger a sign as any of just how low a standard everyone involved was holding themselves too. If you can find a better CGI explosion in a Nollywood movie, then you know you’re in trouble.
Despite how abysmal The Dark Soul overwhelmingly is, the realm of low budget Chinese TV movies looks to be where Logan will remain for the time being, having also produced the Ross W. Clarkson helmed Vixen (not to mention Five Element Killer and Lady Detective Shadow) in the same year. These productions may be a long way from the days of acting alongside the likes of Donnie Yen and Jackie Chan, and in all likelihood many of them won’t travel too further afield from whatever Chinese TV channel it is they get shown on. If The Dark Soul is indicative of the quality of the rest of them, then that’s certainly not a bad thing.
On July 16th, 2019, Cohen Media Group will release the Blu-ray & DVD for Ash is Purest White(read our review), a gangster epic from Jia Zhangke, the cricitally acclaimed director of festival favorites Still Life and A Touch of Sin.
Ash is Purest White is the story of violent love within a time frame spanning from 2001 to 2017. Qiao (Zhao Tao, Still Life) is in love with her boyfriend Bin (Liao Fan, The Master), a small-time gangster. During a fight between rival gangs, she fires a gun to protect him. Qiao gets five years in prison for this act of loyalty. Upon her release, she goes looking for Bin to pick up where they left off.
“The Brave has No Fears” Chinese Theatrical Poster
Danny Chan Kwok-kwan (Shaolin Soccer), the actor known for portraying Bruce Lee in Legend of Bruce Lee, Ip Man 3 and the upcoming Ip Man 4, headlines The Brave has No Fears (aka Fighting King Kong).
The Brave has No Fears tells the story of the legendary Guo Zhendong (Chan), who has been determined to save the country since he was a child, but he is dissatisfied with the softness of the martial arts. He sets out to learn the “King Kong Walking Method” style of kung fu and takes on the black hands and evil spirits that are trying to take over Southern martial arts (via v.qq.com).
The Brave has No Fears opens on June 1st domestically. Don’t miss the Trailer below:
AKA: Iceman 2 Director: Raymond Yip Cast: Donnie Yen, Eva Huang, Wang Bao Qiang, Simon Yam, Yu Kang, Yasuaki Kurata, Maggie Jiang, Hans Marrero, Hee Ching Paw, Minowa Yasufumi, Chen Kuan-Tai Running Time: 88 min.
By Paul Bramhall
It’s been a long time since I watched a movie that left me so dumbfounded, I found myself staring at a blank screen for 10 minutes, struggling to figure out how best to begin a review of it. Iceman: The Time Traveler has the honour of being that movie, a sequel to 2014’s Iceman 3D, which is no longer 3D or directed by Law Wing-Cheong, despite being filmed at the same time as the first instalment. Ironically, 10 minutes is also how long the sequel spends giving us a recap of what happened all those years ago, which serves as a kind of Iceman 3D best of, as we get to relive the infamous shield snowboarding scene and bridge battle. Such a recap should be welcomed, except when you realise that the runtime is a measly 87 minutes, which means that what’s left could well be classified as “a little over an hour”.
Allegedly it wasn’t always that way, several sources (including IMDB) list the runtime as 104 minutes, which begs the question of how almost 20 minutes went missing in action? According to a post on the movies official Weibo blog, posted in November last year, it was because Yen “deleted scenes of various actors to highlight his status as the absolute main character, and that the deletions led the film to run only 87 minutes with a scattershot plot.” Not only that, the post also pointed the finger at Yen for interfering with the work of the action director and production crew, changing dialogue, refusing to do re-shoots or wear wigs, had an arrogant attitude, and didn’t help with the promotion. Not exactly glowing praise, but at the same time somewhat familiar, with Yen having similar well documented production strife on the likes of Wing Chun, Iron Monkey 2, and Special ID. How much of it is true? We’ll likely never know.
So as Yen’s legal team went into battle with the producers, the movie itself landed on cinema screens with a resoundingly dull thud. While Iceman 3D was critically mauled, I actually found it to be a charmingly dumb throwback to 80’s HK cinema (lest we forget the whole sorry saga is supposed to be a remake of The Iceman Cometh). Amidst Yen’s flowing locks, rocket powered piss, and exploding feces, its unashamed ridiculousness somehow won me over. For the sequel, gone is director Law Wing-Cheong and his writing team, and in their place is director Raymond Yip (Anna in Kung fu Land) and writer Manfred Wong (who’s no stranger to working with Yip, they co-directed Bruce Lee, My Brother together). The change in creative forces behind the camera have also made Iceman: The Time Traveler a completely different genre, with the zany comedic tone replaced with heavy handed drama and half baked romance.
You may have noticed by now that I’ve been avoiding a plot description, and you’d be right. In the closing of my review for Iceman 3D I’d mentioned how ”there’s a hint that the whole thing could be wrapped up by the arrival of some evil Japanese again. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that it doesn’t go down that path.” Perhaps unsurprisingly, my fingers were crossed in vain. As expected, Simon Yam’s greedy general turns out to be in cahoots with a Japanese warlord played by the legendary Yasuaki Kurata, and together they murdered everyone in Yen’s village (and framed him for it). Yam goes back in time from present day Beijing (yes, not HK anymore, I’ll get to that soon) along with Yu Kang, with Yen and Eva Huang hot in pursuit. Well, in pursuit at least. Frankly, the plot is so obviously incomplete that it feels like a pointless exercise to attempt to make it sound coherent.
In place of a plot, the audience is bombarded with a number of surreal and brow furrowing moments. Yen’s sudden change of hairstyle is conspicuously drawn attention to by Huang announcing when she sees him, ”Hey, you cut your hair!” His modern hair then becomes a sort of running joke when he goes back to the past, except that none of the jokes are funny. At its most strange, when Yen travels to Beijing to track down his old cohorts, on driving through Tianaman Square he notices the large portrait of Chairman Mao, and salutes it! It’s a cringe worthy moment, not just because of its obvious NRTA pandering connotations, but also in the context of the plot, Yen should have no idea who he is. But in the broader scheme of things, these are the least of Iceman: The Time Traveler’s problems.
Not only has the comedy gone, but bizarrely, the sequel is for the most part actionless. There’s a bewildering sequence when Yen and Huang first travel back in time, and instead of landing back in the Ming era, they arrive on a train in 1927 just in time to stop those damn Japanese from interrogtating the passengers. Soon there’s yells of ”Get out of China!”, and Yen manipulates Huang’s body to take out the troublesome Japanese invaders, in a sequnce which is more Jimmy Wang Yu flailing arms than it is the work of this era’s most innovative fight choreographer. Then just like that, they use the device to go back in time to where they’re actually supposed to be going. What was the point of this whole rail themed Republic era detour? None whatsoever, exept that it filled another 5 minutes, and proves that Yen is capable of kicking Japanese posterior regardless of what era it is because, you know, he’s The Time Traveler!
Things go from bad to worse once proceedings locate back to the past, as Yen returns to his village with Huang in tow, and the already short runtime gets bogged down by the fact that he has a girlfriend there from his own time (played by Maggie Jiang, Call of Heroes). Yes, there’s no better way to maintain the pace of this final chapter to the epic Iceman saga, than by introducting a love triangle! Huang and Jang form an amicable friendship, and are soon teaching each other dance moves from their respective times, however as they both only have eyes for Donnie, how long can it last? The answer comes, but not before we’ve had to sit through not 1, but 2 ballad driven musical montages, as we witness such iconic scenes as Yen and Huang taking a selfie in a bubble filled street for the 2nd time in less than an hour.
At some point around the half way mark, Wang Bao Qiang shows up, presumably because the producers realised he had a significant role in Iceman 3D, so should probably appear somewhere in the sequel. Bao Qiang’s appearance heralds the action highlight of Iceman: The Time Traveler, in a sequence that has him realise he’s been betrayed by his buddy Yu Kang, and the pair face off in the only grounded fight during the whole movie. Their showdown provides a brief moment of hope that things are going to pick up, before proceedings slip back into montony, with the irony not being lost on me that the best action scene doesn’t even have Yen in it. Bao Qiang looked like he was going to form a potential Yuen Biao/Yuen Wah style pairing with Yen back in 2013/14, with them facing off both in the original instalment, and Teddy Chen’s Kung Fu Jungle, however in recent years he’s tended to stick with comedic roles rather than action.
For no logical reason, the finale springs up out of nowhere, with Yen employing a baffling costume change which is never explained, and Huang tagging along (as she’s done for pretty much the entirety of both movies) to face off against Kurata, Yam, and Kang. After an entertaining sword battle (disclaimer: it may only have been entertaining due to everything being so dull previously), the sequence quickly begins to go off the rails, as Kurata and Yen battle it out in space and time on a train. Is it the same train from the random scene earlier on? I have no idea, but for whatever reason, they end up on a train hurtling through the space time continum. It’s right up there with The Myth for finales that completely lose the plot, but I have a feeling they were trying to go for some kung-fu meets Interstellar style vibe. They failed.
All of this nonsense turns out to be a preface for Yen to explain, in voiceover, that he’s basically become the Neo of timetravel. It’s poorly conveyed and makes almost no sense whatsoever, but somehow Yen has become someone who now controls the ability to influence time, hence, he’s ’The Time Traveler’. In all truthfulness, many viewers that embark on watching this trainwreck of a sequel (pun intended), will likely turn it off well before the end, and nobody can blame them. Featuring a plot with more holes than a golf course, action that feels both uninspired and lazy, and characters that feel like they were written on the back of a coaster, Iceman: The Time Traveler is a curious exercise in how wrong a film can go when the vision isn’t clear from the start. If you’re a diehard fan of Donnie Yen, check it out, if anything, it’ll most likely make you feel more forgiving towards Iron Monkey 2. For everyone else, approach with caution.
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