'House of Flying Daggers' panders to American tastes
By Yuan En Lim, Arts and Living Editor
It used to be that East Asian limited-screen releases in the U.S. were either critically acclaimed in their homelands or fulfilled a niche demand. The new set of criterion, post "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon," appears to consist primarily of gorgeous Asians, impressively choreographed swordfights and breathtaking visuals. "House of Flying Daggers" wants in none of these areas. The disappointment, rather, lies in the scant attention paid to developing the narrative and retaining credibility. It all looks nothing more than a pale facsimile of that unexceptional period drama, "Hero."

Writer and director Zhang Yimou again casts his protege Zhang Ziyi in the principal role of Mei, a blind dancer in the Peony Pavilion, the ancient Chinese equivalent of a posh brothel. The provincial police suspects that she is the daughter of the recently deceased leader of the House of Flying Daggers, a sect of formidable pugilists committed to imperial revolution. This larger conflict is rarely given very much significance in the proceedings, save to vaguely explain the random appearance of groups of vicious troops. Andy Lau ("Infernal Affairs") and Takeshi Kaneshiro ("Returner") star together for the first time as police captains Leo and Jin; they decide first to arrest Mei and then to have Jin rescue her-repeatedly-to earn her trust. Once that is accomplished, she would conceivably lead them to the lair of the new leader of the House of Flying Daggers.

Complications inevitably materialize at the expected places: Jin's assignment is compromised not only by swordsmen sent by an unseen commander unaware of Jin's undercover status but also by Jin's budding feelings for Mei. Several successive plot twists are added to the mix, but anyone in the audience who has seen "Infernal Affairs" would be hard-pressed not to find a large chunk of the developments familiar. This is where the writing becomes positively lazy and the twists are there for all to see. Events eventually spiral to a climactic blizzard scene that would be quite magnificent if not for the ridiculous happenings in the snow. In all frankness, the occasional blip in the storyline would be forgivable, especially with the multitude of artistic distractions in this film, if not for the incoherence of the conclusion.

There ought to be little dissent with regards to the aesthetic quality of Zhao Xiaoding's cinematography-every frame is shot with lavish, operatic grace, every landscape scene drenched with primary colors. Much of "House of Flying Daggers" comes across as a series of moving paintings, each more delicately beautiful than the last. In terms of art direction, Zhang Yimou has the marks of a master, even to the untrained eye. The love story central to the film nestles nicely in the cradle of his broad strokes, and its tormented emotions sweep the characters along the panorama of love, hate, sacrifice and death.

Regrettably, the visual beauty and romance are poorly complemented by narrative substance. The story goes nowhere with any conviction and the ending begs belief; there is too large a helping of melodrama. It is little wonder that Asian audiences for the most part dismissed "House of Flying Daggers" as the follow-up to "Hero" in Zhang's unsubtle attempt to woo the wider American cinema crowd. A pity, really, since his previous works, "Red Sorghum" and "Raise the Red Lantern," were finer representations of Chinese film.

That the wuxia (period swordfighting drama) genre has attracted so many auteurs in the past few years is a testimony to the wide-ranging success of "Crouching Tiger," which itself was less-than-loved in East Asia. Perhaps the clearest indication yet of the American aspirations of this piece (far from the last of its kind), was Kathleen Battle's closing theme in English, which was as jarringly incongruous as the strains of a Chinese folk song closing a film on the American Revolution.

Issue 13, Submitted 2004-12-13 13:59:16