| There are some things that rock the foundations of your world. I remember
the first time I heard the Ramones sing "Blitzkreig Bop". I recall thinking,
'What is this? How can music sound like that?' There is no existing template
inside your head for it. While your brain grasps wildly for a reference point, motor
functions cease, muscles relax and your jaw hangs loose like a poorly hinged drawbridge.
Your head spins until space can be made to accommodate this new information. New synaptic
links between neurons must be forged. And your world is changed forever. My first
exposure to Hong Kong film was the tea-room fight in Hardboiled. It’s a
dangerous place to start as it is a lethal cocktail of John Woo’s
best party tricks. I didn’t have the luxury of seeing him develop and refine his
craft. Instead I copped him at the mastery of his power. It was like somebody had shoved
two thousand volts (remember, it's the amps that kill you), through my left eye, stepped
back, decided that looked uneven and shoved another two thousand into my right.
Some wonky hand-held camera work follows patrons as they ascend wooden stairs to the
tearoom. This is followed by a series of close-ups of tea drinkers and bird cages, shots
that never allow you to take in the full scene. They only offer you small details, never
the full picture. Dramatic: yes; Chinese burn inducing tension: maybe, but it's hardly
new. When the gunfight begins, well see the first paragraph - it’s all there. The
camera swirls around the action like a vortex. It’s like gunplay has been released
from a two dimensional plane. No longer does one badass have to stand on the left side of
the screen to shoot some dude on the right. Threat spins all around the players. Then
there’s the slow motion. Up until this point, slow motion has been a tool held up for
ridicule by every stand-up comedian for its woefully embarrassing use in The Six
Million Dollar Man. It’s as if Mr. Woo has stumbled across slow motion’s
extradited corpse in a Hong Kong vault and decided to resurrect its humiliated carcass. It
is an awesome effect. While your brain attempts to comprehend what going on, the film
slows to match. Together they bond like co-workers smoking on office steps. It’s a
maelstrom and you cannot helped but be sucked into its center.
That was my preamble to Hong Kong film. Instead of being politely introduced, I was
thrown out of the ring then slammed over the back by a cleverly disguised steel chair. The
tea room set piece ends with Chow Yun-Fat’s flour and blood
splattered visage, his tooth pick still bonded to his teeth with industrial adhesive. And
that’s really where another pleasure begins. Hong Kong film loves its heroes and
villains. They are bigger than life, grand archetypes of their kind. The flawed cop, the
honor-bound villain, hell, even the badass villain who shoots goldfish for fun. These
characters, when treated with respect, carry an authenticity that is lost on jaded and
cynical Western audiences. Hollywood’s fixation with tarnished heroes is like a tired
pup who won’t give up retrieving a ball. Who cares how many hours Al Pacino has spent
in the back seat of a cop car to make his umpteenth failed marriage/ alcoholic/ butterfly
collecting, shambling police officer more believable? Frankly, I don’t give a fuck.
Chow Yun-Fat’s rebel cop archetype busts through any stereotypic notions with a sly
smile that melts Al Pacino’s twitchy cop turn into so much slag.
I have seen a lot more Hong Kong films now, including viewing all of John Woo’s
films in the space of week at the blink-and-you’ll miss-it Panorama video theater in
Brunswick. (Does anyone remember the Panorama or even a John Woo film called Just
Heroes?) Man, his filmography is a bit like one week long delirium driven narrative
for me now. The brain accommodating flare-up of Hardboiled has passed. I am
familiar with Hong Kong films now and familiarity breeds, if not contempt then, mild
irritability. I find myself getting annoyed as my attention wanders through deadspots that
frequently crop up in the second act of Hong Kong flicks. But I still have that memory of
sensory overload as my brain spiked in Hardboiled. Hell, brain accommodating
events like that don’t happen everyday. It’s important to bear them in mind. |
 
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