#'no matter the genre' show me an american wuxia film then.

[llycaons]

I fucking hate this post. 'no matter the genre or setting it's probably from hollywood' the rest of the world (and non-mainstream american creators) make tv and film and write stories too and you'd probably know that if you bothered to pull your head put of your ass and look outside your little mainstream bubble you fucking idiot.

[dweemeister]

A Touch of Zen (1971, Taiwan)

When Chinese director King Hu was writing the screenplay to his upcoming martial arts epic, he found himself disgusted with the mindless violence pervasive in the wuxia genre. Wuxia, for those unfamiliar with the term, is a genre of Chinese fiction involving martial arts during the times of Imperial China. Wuxia can also include elements of masculine chivalry, sometimes sorcery (though not in this film). King Hu’s A Touch of Zen is an unusual wuxia film – it is over three hours long, and no swords are drawn nor do fists fly until more than an hour has passed. Those facts about A Touch of Zen might alienate wuxia fans and frighten those who have never delved into Asian martial arts cinema. But what if I told you that A Touch of Zen is one of the greatest martial arts films of all time, with its first-hour nonviolent intrigue, enormous scope, heavily Buddhist themes, and among the most astonishing action choreography that movie audiences have ever witnessed?

For the first two hours, A Touch of Zen centers its plot on the oafish painter, Gu Sheng-tsai (Shih Chun). It is set sometime during the Ming dynasty (1368-1644). Gu lives with his mother (Zhang Bing-yu) – who hounds her son into taking the civil service exam and finding a wife to continue the family line – in the charred remains of an abandoned imperial fort. It plays like a domestic comedy, if only briefly. A behatted stranger, who will later be identified as Ouyang Nian (Tien Peng) and is introduced in shadow as if this was an American Western, comes to town one day to have his portrait painted by Gu, but his unspoken objective is to capture a woman named Yang Hui-zhen (Hsu Feng) – a fugitive of the law and adroit in combat. Unbeknownst to Gu, Yang has moved into the house across from his mother’s and the two will become friends – although Gu’s mother would like her son to seal the deal already. Also in hiding and allied with Yang are generals Shi and Lu (Bai Ying and Xue Han, respectively).

As motivations are gradually revealed and as the corrupted eunuch’s forces converge upon the town and the fortress, our protagonists flee to the countryside and, in the final hour, the narrative focus shifts from Gu to Yang and General Shi. We are also introduced to a number of characters – most notably, the eunuch’s commander Xu Xian-chun (Han Ying-jie; who also serves as the film’s martial arts choreographer) and Buddhist Abbot Hui-yuan (Roy Chiao).

The opening shot of A Touch of Zen sees a spider moving towards its entangled prey. Spiderwebs are typically a thoughtless hallmark of horror films, but here they appear – mostly in scenes at the abandoned fortress – on occasion to suggest entrapment, the proximity of bloodshed. This applies not just to the protagonists, but those pursuing them. Despite the spectacular wide shots that appear after Gu, Yang, and General Shi find themselves in the wilderness, many of the interior shots in the opening half of A Touch of Zen feel cramped – even moreso at night and during the moments when Gu, Yang, and their allies attempt to trick the enemy reconnaissance into believing that the abandoned fortress is haunted. Notice how quickly the predators can become prey. Such is the confusion that imminent violence might cause.

If the violence found in A Touch of Zen is a result of Yang’s familial duties and sense of honor clashing with the rigid laws governing the eunuch’s lands, it is something that several characters – including Yang herself – are considering an escape from. Here enters Abbot Hui, who first appears in the town’s market with his fellow monks, walking past Gu’s establishment without talking to anyone. Only after the stranger, Ouyang Nian, has confronted Gu for the first time does Abbot Hui break from his wandering stroll. Abbot Hui will not appear again until much later after a violent battle, to help clean and tend to the deceased. In general, the Buddhist monks only make appearances in the film when violence is imminent or has just completed – serving as a sort of punctuation for the film. Unbounded by the earthly desires and allegiances that dictate the actions of all the other characters, Abbot Hui extols nonviolence, showing quarter to even those who threaten exceptional violence.

Does nonviolence work against those who do not respond to soothing, reasonable words? Current sociopolitical thinking might reject these notions outright  In Buddhism – a religion dominated by principles, rather than rules – self-defense is, depending on who you ask, an ambiguous topic. But self-defense is largely believed to be permissible (excluding to-the-letter pacifists, but not to the extent of how certain Burmese Buddhist radicals have condoned violence against the Rohingya minority there), as long as it is not borne from hatred towards the attacker, but compassion for the defendant/s and the attacker. From the words of Vietnamese monk and peace activist Thích Nhất Hạnh, when asked about a hypothetical question in which he faced an attacker after a genocide in which he would be the last Buddhist on the planet:

It would be better to let him kill me. If there is any truth to Buddhism and the Dharma it will not disappear from the face of the earth, but will reappear when seekers of truth are ready to rediscover it. In killing I would be betraying and abandoning the very teachings I would be seeking to preserve. So it would be better to let him kill me and remain true to the spirit of the Dharma.

Though no such genocide appears in A Touch of Zen, Thích Nhất Hạnh’s illustration of Buddhism’s incompatibility towards much of the violence contained in A Touch of Zen. Separation from worldly matters and displaying trust and forgiveness for those who might wish one harm is key, and Abbot Hui abides by these principles. For many Westerners – especially those who have not studied or at least have a superficial understanding of Eastern religions – this might cause befuddlement and consternation in the closing third of the film when King Hu begins to feature the Buddhist monks more often. The final, open-ended scenes draw from Buddhist metaphysics and mysticism – capturing ascendance through selflessness.

Through the actions and words of Abbot Hui, we are better able to comprehend the suffering of Gu, to use one of a few possible examples. Unambitious and uninteresting though his life might have been prior to meeting Yang, Gu’s involvement with Yang and her allies sees him evolve from bumbling straggler to cold-blooded tactician when planning an ambush against the eunuch’s troops – as an aside, undesirable events occur any time after he sleeps with Yang. There, the idea of planning violence is shown as less mentally consequential than committing those acts. Committing violence – whether in self-defense, for “altruistic” purposes (is such a concept inherently contradictory?), or for other reasons – aligned with one’s compassion is a perilous predicament, as this behavior can all too easily transform into malevolence.

The protagonists depicted in A Touch of Zen are well-meaning, imperfect beings unable to release themselves from the shackles of chivalry, familial honor. That is what leads to their suffering from the hands of others, and from within.

For those without much experience in Asian martial arts films, let alone wuxia, A Touch of Zen starts roughly for its opening minutes. Cinematographer Hua hui-ying and editors King Hu (who had a history of performing many tasks other than directing in his movies) and Wing Chin-chen utilizing various swooping movements that do not appear to serve much purpose other than to make the motion-sensitive slightly queasy. After that inexplicable introduction, Hua, Hu, and Wing piece together an excellent collaborative effort. For cinematographer Hua – working with Eastmancolor and a glorious widescreen lens – his cameras are typically flat or glancing upward, utilizing swathes of open space to suggest danger, a higher consciousness/power, all to unsettle the viewer and keep our attention not just on the foreground. Shot partially at Taroko National Park in eastern Taiwan, there are nature shots in A Touch of Zen stupendous to behold; fans of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000, Taiwan) will be awed by the scenery, and perhaps wondering if A Touch of Zen inspired the later film in any way (it certainly did, but more shortly). Hua’s camera can also barely capture combatants when running or jumping from ground to rooftops – because wuxia, kung fu, and other Chinese martial arts logic is like that, so just accept it – at full speed. The editing by Hu and Wing, sometimes only including a shot for the shortest of split-seconds, forces the viewer to pay the fullest attention, in fear of missing on a crucial detail of geometry, body positioning, or location during a furious swordfight.

The action would have been less exhilarating if choreographer and actor Han Ying-jie did not work on this film. Two extended set pieces are standouts: the final battle at the abandoned fortress in the dark of night and a free-flying bamboo forest battle that would later be recalled and reworked in Ang Lee’s Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. For those who have never seen A Touch of Zen – it is recommended that you have seen some other wuxia, kung fu, and other assorted martial arts films before this one – this movie contains some of the most arresting action imagery and gobsmackingly tense battles one can ever experience in this genre. Han’s choreography has stamped his unquestionable legacy into modern martial arts films from China, Hong Kong, and Taiwan.

A Touch of Zen became a sensation of world cinema when released – winning a technical prize at the Cannes Film Festival – but was half-forgotten until Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon came along at the turn of the century. Releases of the most recent restoration by the Masters of Cinema releases in the United Kingdom and the Criterion Collection in North America have allowed A Touch of Zen a global reach like never before.

Asian martial arts cinema – of the distant past, less distant past, and the present – has never been a specialty of mine (my father and many in my extended Vietnamese-American family have consumed much more). What separates A Touch of Zen from the dizzyingly large number of Asian martial arts films lies in something not often found in this genre. It has mastered matters elemental and physical, while commanding a dialogue with the spiritual.

My rating: 10/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. A Touch of Zen is the one hundred and forty-first film I have rated a ten on imdb.