6/10/14 (Part Two): Sherlock Holmes, Mandarin-Style

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action films, ancient China, Andy Lau, Angela Yeung Wing, Angelababy, Bum Kim, Carina Lau, CGI, Chinese films, cinema, court intrigue, Detective Dee, Detective Dee and the Mystery of the Phantom Flame, dragons, Empress Wu, fantasy, Film, film reviews, flashbacks, foreign films, Gengxin Lin, Imperial China, Indiana Jones, James Bond, Mark Chao, Movies, naval battles, period-piece, prequel, romances, sea monster, Shaofeng Feng, Sherlock Holmes, Tang Dynasty, tea, Tsui Hark, voice-over narration, Young Detective Dee: Rise of the Sea Dragon, younger version of main character

Even though I knew nothing about it going in, I really ended up enjoying Tsui Hark’s big-budget mystery/fantasy Detective Dee and the Mystery of the Phantom Flame (2010). The film was a gorgeous bit of eye-candy that managed to throw Sherlock Holmes-style crime analysis, wire-fu martial arts acrobatics and pure adventure-fantasy, ala Indiana Jones, into a blender. Anchored by a genuinely cool hero in the form of Andy Lau’s Detective Dee and some righteously astounding stunt work, the movie felt like a throwback to the ’80s fantasy epics that I grew up, although with some decidedly modern flourishes (Tsui Hark tends to be a “kitchen-sink” kind of filmmaker, which suits this kind of story to a t). When Tsui Hark released the prequel, Young Detective Dee: Rise of the Sea Dragon (2013), I relished the opportunity to return to his particular vision of ancient China. How would this stack up with the first film? With a new lead replacing Andy Lau (this is, after all, “young” Detective Dee), would the film still find its human center or would everything get swallowed up in the visuals? As a prequel, would this tell me anything new about Dee? Would the new film have any setpieces to rival the giant Buddah statue scene from the first film? And, most importantly: was there actually going to be a dragon?

We begin back in Imperial China, during the Tang Dynasty, in 665 AD. Dee (Mark Chau) isn’t even a detective yet but he is determined to make his mark in the city of Woyang. Some massive sea monster has completely destroyed the imperial fleet and scared the crap out of the superstitious populace, leading the all-powerful Empress Wu (Carina Lau, reprising her role from the first film) to take some decisive action. To that end, she gives Yuchi (Shaofeng Feng), the head of the Justice Department, a pretty simple order: get to the bottom of the Sea Dragon “nonsense” or die trying. While in the city, Dee happens to overhear a group of shady individuals planning to kidnap Yin Ruiji (Angelababy), the courtesan who is the planned sacrifice for the feisty sea monster. Dee rushes to the nearby temple to intervene, leading to his first confrontation with Yuchi and his Da Lisi security force. This also leads to our first introduction to another kind of monster: some sort of “Creature From the Black Lagoon”-type fishman appears and starts to wreck holy hell on the wannabe kidnappers. Yin Ruiji is saved, the kidnappers are vanquished and the fishman escapes. Slightly peeved at the outsider’s interference, Yuchi rewards Dee’s assistance by tossing him in lockup.

Once in jail, Dee ends up escaping with the able help of young doctor’s assistant Shatuo (Gengxin Lin), who Dee sways to his side via some rather ingenious Sherlock Holmes-style deduction. When Dee ends up foiling yet another kidnapping attempt on Ruiji, he’s promptly promoted up into the Da Lisi and given control of the Sea Dragon case. This, of course, doesn’t make Yuchi particularly happy but it sure as hell beats getting his head cut off. As Dee, Shatuo and Yuchi continue to investigate the case, other elements begin to come into play, including a potential spy within the Da Lisi, themselves. They also come to the realization that the Creature From the Woyang Lagoon is actually Yuan Zhen (Bum Kim), the formerly hunky owner of the Tranquility Teahouse and Yu Ruiji’s vanished boyfriend. Yuan has been turned into a monster thanks to some nasty parasites and it all appears to have something to do with his teahouse’s connection to the royal family: the entire royal court drink Tranquility Teahouse’s special “Bird’s Tongue Tea” by the bucketful and Dee deduces that the royals might be the actual targets here. Suffice to say that the actual conspiracy is a pretty baroque one, certainly befitting of a James Bond film and involves an assassination attempt, transformation, a misguided attempt to foster peace that’s actually an attempt to take over the world (in disguise), an honest-to-god sea monster, the healing power of eunuch urine, true love and the beginning of a legend.

Despite some truly silly, over-the-top moments, Rise of the Sea Dragon is a more than worthy successor to The Mystery of the Phantom Flame. While Andy Lau’s older Detective Dee is the calm, clear-headed master crime-solver, Mark Chao’s younger Dee is a more brash, reactive presence and the contrast works spectacularly well. There’s an actual progression that happens throughout the film, a character arc for Dee that finds him becoming someone much closer to the Dee we came to know in the first film. This allows Chao to play Dee in his own fashion, which ends up being just as rock-solid reliable as Lau’s version. This isn’t necessarily even a case of Sean Connery vs Roger Moore: Chao doesn’t play Dee like a different person, just a younger person..it’s a subtle but important difference. As with any large-scale film of this nature, such as the aforementioned Indiana Jones films, it’s vitally important to have a strong, memorable central character and Rise of the Sea Dragon delivers just as capably as Phantom Flame did.

The rest of the cast is strong, with Shaofeng Feng being particularly good as Dee’s rival, Yuchi. Yuchi could have come across as a stereotypical antagonist but Feng gives him enough personality and humility to make him stand out. While you occasionally get the impression that he’s giving Dee the business “just because,” Yuchi almost always seems to operate from a slightly higher moral field: the bit where he finally breaks down and gives Dee the horse is a nice touch because it doesn’t symbolize the clichéd “Let’s be buddies” aspect of films so much as it does a tacit acceptance of Dee’s place in the system. By the time that Yuchi and Dee are fighting side by side, their camaraderie actually feels justified rather than situational.

From a spectacle standpoint, Rise of the Sea Dragon delivers the goods time and time again. Even though the film appears to have been originally intended as a 3D presentation (I lost count of the number of things that jabbed towards the screen at any given time), the cinematography is absolutely gorgeous and crystal clear, revealing ever bit of action is Hark’s stuffed-to-bursting frames. The underwater scenes, in particular, are some of the clearest and most well-defined I’ve ever seen. There are just as many breathless setpieces as in the first film, including some suitably thrilling maritime fight sequences, and the design on the Sea Dragon is excellent and fairly unique. All of the (numerous) fight sequences have a nice sense of staging and blocking to them that makes the complicated acrobatics easy to follow and keeps everything grounded (in a figurative rather than literal sense) with an overall sense of real physical action. One of my favorite scenes in some time has to be the one where Dee and Yuchi fight the villainous Huo Yi while suspended over a bottomless chasm: it’s not only great to look at but so ingeniously staged that the fight becomes something akin to a ballet. Despite the occasionally overly glossy visuals (think next-generation videogame cut-scenes), most of the film takes place in a space that feels at least as real as Peter Jackson’s Middle Earth.

The film also utilizes a style similar to the “information overload” aspect of Guy Ritchie’s recent Sherlock Holmes films: we gently plenty of sidebars, charts, graphs, text-on-screen, etc. At one point, Dee hits someone and we zoom into their body for an up-close and personal look at how the bone is going to break. As a rule, I tend to find stuff like this rather distracting in a film, especially when utilized in the manner that Ritchie did for Sherlock Holmes (2009): truth be told, I really can’t stand that film, mostly for this selfsame reason. While I found the technique to be little distracting in The Mystery of the Phantom Flame, Hark seems to have integrated it better within the follow-up. Although it’s still an overly flashy stylistic trick, I was willing to cut it a little more slack this time around. Whether that says more about me mellowing or the film itself remains to be seen but perhaps it’s time to give ol’ Sherlock another try.

While the unnecessary voice-over narration and occasionally silly aspects scuff the polish on Rise of the Sea Dragon just a tad, it was never enough to affect my overall enjoyment of the film. Whereas I went into the first film completely unprepared, I came to Rise of the Sea Dragon with a particular set of expectations, expectations which the film resoundingly met. I’ve always been a sucker for huge, epic fantasy adventures and Young Detective Dee: Rise of the Sea Dragon fits the bill in almost every way. At this point, I hope Hark continues his Detective Dee films into the distant future, turning this character into a Chinese form of James Bond. Hell, in many ways, the films are almost there: Cool, charismatic hero who’s great under pressure? Check. Lots of conspiracy and spy intrigue? Check. Memorable villains with secret island fortresses and plots to rule the world? Check. Plenty of thrilling action sequences? Check. A steel-toothed thug named Jaws? Not yet but give ’em time: this is only the second film, after all. I have a feeling that Tsui Hark still has a few more tricks up his sleeve…I don’t think we’ve seen the last of Detective Dee in these here parts.

1/11/14: Chills, Thrills and Groans

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adventures, animated films, B-movies, bad movies, computer-animated, Daniel Craig, dark comedies, Edgar Wright, experimental film, Film, Film auteurs, Funny Games, German cinema, home invasion, hullaballoo, Indiana Jones, Michael Haneke, misanthropic, Nick Frost, Party of Five, SImon Pegg, Steven Spielberg, strange families, suspense, The Adventures of TinTin, The Butcher Brothers, The Hamiltons

Our quest to catch up now takes us to this past Saturday for another triple header. On this particular day, my viewing selections were tempered by the fact that I needed something to wash the taste of Funny Games out of my mouth: hence, the segue from that to Spielberg’s Adventures of TinTin. Now THAT’s the kind of counter-programming more festivals need to do!

Oy vey…talk about suffering for art…We’re all familiar with feel-good cinema: those gauzy, sweet, brightly colored bits of film fluff that usually posit nothing more challenging than a stubbed toe or a willfully spunky ingenue to shake things up. In a world that’s become increasingly cold and hostile, feel-good cinema can be the equivalent of a warm fire on a cold day, returning the essential humanity to an inhumane species.

Michael Haneke pisses all over feel-good cinema before burying it out in the desert. If the word “misanthropy” is defined as meaning, “the general hatred, distrust or disdain of the human species or human nature,” then Mr. Haneke may be one of the premiere misanthropes working in film today. Whether dealing with severely damaged, violent individuals (Benny’s Video, The Seventh Continent, The White Ribbon), the horrors of a violent society invading the sanctity of the home (Funny Games, The Time of the Wolf) or the erosion of life and love (The Piano Teacher, Amour), Haneke has never met a subject to dark or depressing to tear into. Despite his seeming disdain for people, Haneke has had a surprisingly successful career, achieving enough acclaim with his original 1997 version of Funny Games to warrant his American remake ten years later and culminating in Best Foreign Film and Best Actress nods for his most recent film, Amour.

I admit that I got to the Haneke party a little late, not jumping in until the remake of Funny Games. As a big Tim Roth fan, I took a chance, based on his presence, and was rewarded with something rather nasty and unpleasant. Nonetheless, I was intrigued and spent some time touring his back catalog, eventually arriving at his original version of Funny Games. Needless to say, I remember being thoroughly disturbed by the film and promptly sought to put it behind me. Flash forward many years and a lazy Saturday morning seemed like a perfect time to revisit the film and see if it still held any power. Short answer? Yes.

For those not familiar with the story, Funny Games is, ostensibly, a home invasion film. Three members of a family (parents and young son) are vacationing at their lakeside cottage, next to several other cabins and friends. The family is well-to-do, educated (while driving, they play a game of “Name that classical music concerto” and seem like nice enough people. Upon arriving at their cottage, they notice that their next-door-neighbors appear to be entertaining guests, a pair of young men dressed in tennis outfits. When one of the men appears at their doorstep to borrow some eggs, the family become trapped in a seemingly never-ending nightmare of violence, humiliation, torture and…well…funny games.

Part of the terrible, feral power of the film comes from how well-made it is. Rather than feeling (or looking) like a quickly dashed together bit of exploitation nastiness, Funny Games is an art film through and through. The opening, featuring an aerial view of their car driving through winding mountain roads, instantly reminds of Kubrick’s similar opening to The Shining. The film has a cold, clinical look that recalls Cronenberg’s early bio-medical chillers. The acting, particularly from the evil young men is impeccable and, at times, downright heartbreaking. The film has a terrific grasp of tension, feeding out just enough line to keep you hooked, then snapping it back ferociously when needed. Scenes play out for much longer than seem necessary, the camera rarely cutting once things start to get crazy. Unfortunately, watching the film is still about as much fun as getting buried alive.

If its possible for a film to be considered “mental torture porn,” than Funny Games would be the undisputed king of that ring. Although there is violence in the film, most of it occurs off-camera, leaving us to merely view the results. The horrible humiliation and psychological torture that the pair put the family through, however, is almost impossible to watch. During an excruciatingly long scene where the pair force the mother to strip down to her underwear in front of her family, I found myself asking the all-important question, “Why?” Not “Why are the bad guys doing that,” since the world is full of truly sick individuals but “Why are we being forced to watch this in such detail?” Like Pasolini’s Salo, Funny Games is a film that not only shows you the shit on the floor but proceeds to rub your face into it. Haneke doesn’t just want to make you aware of the evil in the world: he wants to make you suffer it, too.

Were Funny Games just a streamlined, brutal, unflinching home-invasion thriller, it would be a memorable film. Haneke, however, has something else up his sleeve. At one point, the lead psycho, Paul, is standing in front of his partner, Peter. He turns and winks directly at the camera, although our understanding is that Peter is there, off-camera. This makes sense, of course, all the way up to the point where Paul turns and directly addresses the audience, asking us if we think the family has been through enough. At once, we’re not just spectators but accomplices: if we didn’t want to see the family suffer so much, we’d quit watching and let them off the hook. No film, especially fringe and extreme films, can exist without an audience. In one fell swoop, Haneke indicts horror and exploitation fans, asking the all-important question: how normal is it to want to witness suffering? As a lifelong horror fan, I didn’t much care to answer it. Thanks, Michael: see you again when I’m feeling slightly too upbeat.

As a remedy for the massive feel-bad vibes presented by Funny Games, I turned to an old master of the feel-good film: the inimitable Steven Spielberg and his recent computer-animated feature, The Adventures of Tintin. I originally avoided the film due to the computer animation (I’m much more of an old-school animation fan) but I figured that only Spielberg could give me the 10ccs of food-times needed to wash away Haneke. Turns out, I was right.

Right off the bat, imagine my immense excitement when, during the fabulous credit sequence, I notice that Peter Jackson is producing the film. Alright…that’s interesting. Not half as interesting, however, as the fact that Joe “Attack the Block” Cornish and Edgar “Cornetto Trilogy” Wright wrote the film. That’s right, boys and girls: two of the best comedic horror/sci-fi writers in the biz collaborated on the script for a Spielberg film produced by Peter Jackson. Essentially, there was no way this would be anything but one big love letter to classical film and it did not disappoint.

Once I actually got into the film, any concerns about the animation style melted away: the animation was actually so realistic that it was easy to imagine this as a life-action film, versus a cartoon. In fact, there are so many visual and narrative nods to the Indiana Jones films that this almost felt like it inhabited the same world. The scene where Snowy pursues TinTin’s kidnappers through a busy street reminds me immediately of the Cairo chase in the first Indiana Jones film, right down to the way in which the pursued item is constantly kept in the same frame as the pursuer, despite their distance from each other: simply genius.

In all honesty, there were too many highlights in the film to count. The battle between Haddock’s ship and the pirate ship is absolutely stunning, perhaps one of the coolest nautical battles I’ve seen. The final duel with construction cranes is amazing and made me wonder why no one ever tried that in the past (hint: probably because it’s impossible). The voice acting, whether from Daniel Craig as the bad guy or Simon Pegg and Nick Frost as the bumbling Scotland Yard duo of Thomson and Thompson, is top-notch and TinTin, Captain Haddock and Snowy make one hell of a team. Massively fun and technologically impressive, I can easily compare The Adventures of TinTin to Wes Anderson’s animated The Fantastic Mr. Fox. Both films showcase outstanding filmmakers boldly going where they (technically) haven’t gone before.

I’m not sure that mere words can do justice to the sheer awfulness that is The Hamiltons but I’ll try. Imagine, if you will, a torture porn version of Party of Five featuring hammier actors than Troll 2 and The Room combined. Intrigued? Let me finish. The family that we’re stuck with for almost 90 minutes features a stereotypical moody, whiny teen boy, complete with always-filming video camera; a straight-laced older brother that holds down a job, is polite, smart and kind, so is obviously a closeted homosexual; a twin brother and sister that chew through scenery like ravenous warthogs when they’re not busy sucking face and disgusting the audience with the most assinine, ridiculous display of incestuous union since whatever Troma film took on the subject; and a supernaturally strong, feral, beast of a kid brother that looks like…a normal kid.

On top of these obnoxious characters we get a story that blatantly rips off We Are What We Are before becoming something else (read: equally shitty) entirely, a primal-scream breakdown that must be seen to be believed and the actual line “I’m getting awful tired of your hullaballoo,” delivered with as much earnestness and integrity as the actor could manage when being asked to deliver something so obviously Shakespearian in origin.

But am I being a little too mean? Isn’t all of this a bit harsh for a film that probably just wants to be considered a decent little horror film? Absolutely not. The pair of idiot filmmakers behind this call themselves The Butcher Brothers and have already created a sequel. They must be stopped by any and all means necessary, before The Hamiltons becomes the truly shitty franchise that it threatens to become. If we do nothing, we may soon wake up in a world where the Butcher Brothers may continue to create unchecked, turning the world into the goofy nightmare land of Branded.

In short: I’m getting awful tired of their hullaballoo.