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| In
too deep: Zhang in House of Flying Daggers. |
Killing
Machines
By
Laura Leon
House
of Flying Daggers
Directed
by Zhang Yimou
Like its predecessor, last sum-mer’s Hero, Zhang Yimou’s
House of Flying Daggers pulsates with color, uncanny
sound engineering and, of course, the restrained passions
of characters sworn to uphold warring notions of nobility
and power. In this case, blind courtesan Mei (Ziyi Zhang)
is investigated by government deputies Jin (Takeshi Kaneshiro)
and Leo (Andy Lau), who suspect that she is one of the notorious
rebel group, the Flying Daggers. On assignment, Jin pretends
to ally himself to Mei, and, as the two escape hordes of militia
and quite a few close calls, they find themselves increasingly
attracted to one another. “Are you real?” Mei asks Jin on
more than one occasion, and we, the audience, palpably feel
the growing weight of Jin’s deception in his heart and mind.
But hold the press—just as in Hero, everything is not
as it seems, and as the movie progresses we find that nearly
every character is operating on dual, if not more, levels,
and that deception is in fact the only constant. Ultimately,
House of Flying Daggers is a love triangle, with Jin
and Leo vying with each other for Mei’s affections, and her
loyalties, with the fate of both the Tang Dynasty and the
Flying Daggers in the balance. In typical Yimou fashion, just
as the mother of all battles between these two forces is about
to erupt, the lovers are themselves fighting it out in a glorious
field that changes from glorious autumnal foliage to a blinding
snowstorm in moments. (It’s almost funny that the weather
in Yimou’s films changes on a dime, whereas his characters
and even their horses often remain motionless for what seems
like hours.)
This is a movie that is as much about motion as it is a lover’s
triangle, as if Yimou is coopting that old adage about time
and tides waiting for no man. In this case, passion doesn’t
stand a chance in the shadow of revolution and political turmoil.
When Jin and Mei finally stand still, free of surprise assassins
and government agents bent on their destruction, the end is
near. Still, House of Flying Daggers is strangely uncompelling,
perhaps because it seems as the filmmaker is more interested
in mastering the art of making combat scenes dazzling to watch
as well as to hear. I mention this because on more than one
occasion, the sound of elements of fighting is as exhilarating
as, say, the sight of arrows reaching an impossible target.
During an “echo game” set piece in a brothel called the Peony
Pavilion, itself a remarkable vision of floral tones and mosaic
tiles, the sounds of cranberry beans and heavy swaths of silk
striking upright drums are in themselves independent characters.
Even more striking is a fight piece set within the confines
of a forest of whispering bamboo. Admittedly, I thought a
similar set piece in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon,
was pushing the bounds even of my willing imagination, but
here, Yimou places the focus on assassins who use the tall
trees much like acrobats use the ropes and, even better, the
concomitant sounds of the forest’s “whisper” with the piercing
shaft of flying daggers aimed at said assassins. So what if
those daggers do look a bit like cutlery being flung from
the direction of an irate cook? Like Orson Welles before him,
Zhang Yimou cares immensely about the overall sound of his
movie; too bad he didn’t invest more in the human element.
Mourning
Has Broken
Elektra
Directed
by Rob Bowman
Elektra,
starring Jennifer Gar-ner as the superhero femme fatale, is
a spin-off of the dismal Daredevil. Even though Ben
Affleck does not appear, it’s unlikely that this drecky adaptation
of the Frank Miller series is going to revive the franchise.
And Elektra herself is so mechanical that she calls to mind
an entirely different Miller creation: Robocop. When
we first see her—dressed in a fire-engine-red two-piece that’s
the film’s only bright spot—she’s dispatching an army of innocent
security guards to get at some guy sitting in an armchair
drinking brandy and calmly waiting for the inevitable. Photographed
with fetishistic flourish, the man is impaled by Robobabe’s
double-pronged daggers (which resemble nothing so much as
a pair of really efficient turkey lifters). We never do find
out why he’s killed, nor would we care, except that he’s the
most interesting character in the movie, despite being onscreen
for less than 10 minutes.
Noticeably padded fore and aft but completely stripped of
the charming naiveté she showed in 13 Going on 30,
Garner plays Elektra with all the warmth of an overworked
tax collector. Although her role in Alias would seemingly
make her a natural as a kick-ass chick assassin, she seems
miscast, like a 13-year-old who wakes to find herself in an
unpleasant costume fitting. Instead of personality, Elektra
has ticks, and gets highly twitchy when she’s between assignments,
a result of having witnessed her mother’s death while she
was a child. This irrelevant incident, swathed in an offensive
aesthetic sheen, is used to set up the film’s artificial heart,
which centers on 13-year-old Abby (off-putting Kirsten Prout),
who supposedly reminds Elektra of her younger self. According
to the film’s perfunctory herstory, Elektra became a homicidal
maniac for hire after being cast out of superhero training
camp by Stick (Terence Stamp), her martial-arts mentor. Stick
is blind but invincible, due to his ability to see the near
future. This ability is showcased when he trounces a pool
shark at a game of eight ball (the eternally elegant Stamp
gives the role more dignity than it deserves).
Hired by a mysterious employer to execute Abby and her father,
Mark (Goran Visnjic), who conveniently supplies her with a
passing love interest, Elektra puts her earning potential
in jeopardy by reneging on her contract. Elektra’s newfound
maternal instinct is put to the test when she is set upon
by a squadron of demon ninjas whose most lethal member shall
be identified as the Dragon Breath Lady. Director Rob Bowman
gave the entertainingly cheesy Reign of Fire some imaginative
panache, and he does the same for Elektra’s stagy showdowns.
But the real conflict here is between the gauzy art direction,
which rips off mystical Chinese martial-arts flicks; and the
script, a quickie exercise in pomo comic-book redemption.
This crass combination is not helped by fight sequences that
could’ve been choreographed by Kung-Fu Barbie.
—Ann
Morrow
You
Are What You Is
Racing
Stripes
Directed
by Frederik Du Chau
When watching Racing Stripes, you can’t help but note
the similarities to other movies about the interactions of
people and animals. Notably, there’s the National Velvet
connection, although in this case, the horse-obsessed girl,
Channing (Hayden Panettiere), is determined to ride a zebra,
Stripes (voiced by Frankie Muniz), in the Kentucky Open. Then,
of course, there’s the Babe relationship. As in Babe,
the humans and animals are both “real,” and the animals are
voiced by actors. As a parallel to Babe’s setting,
Channing’s dad Nolan (Bruce Greenwood) runs a ramshackle farm
populated by engaging livestock, such as Shetland pony Tucker
(Dustin Hoffman); Alpine goat Franny (Whoopi Goldberg); rooster
Reggie (Jeff Foxworthy); lazy bloodhound Lightning (Snoop
Dogg); and gangsta pelican Goose (Joe Pantoliano). As in the
Aussie pig epic, said livestock provide Stripes with the kind
of inspiration, compassion and help that he needs to get over
his longing to be something he isn’t—a thoroughbred race horse—and
just get on with the program.
To say that you’ve seen it all before is an understatement.
You know that Stripes will overcome the odds and win the race,
and that he’ll learn valuable life lessons on the way. Same
can be said for both Channing and, particularly, Nolan, who
has given up living and overprotected his daughter in the
wake of his beloved wife’s death while racing. However, Racing
Stripes somehow works despite its predictability. Part
of this can be attributed to director Frederik Du Chau’s willingness
to develop the story at a pace that can seem leisurely but
which allows the rhythms of farm life and the longings of
its inhabitants, both human and animal, to take center stage.
And it’s refreshing that the script, written by David F. Schmidt
from a story by Du Chau, Schmidt, Steven P. Wegner and Kirk
DeMicco, is bereft of the usual smarminess and “attitude”
so often parlayed in family films. Then again, there are a
lot of scatological jokes, primarily from horseflies Buzz
(Steve Harvey) and Scuzz (David Spade), but what would you
expect from characters who hang around horse poop all day?
The best moments in Racing Stripes come from veteran
actors Greenwood, who plays his role with the same respect
and heart as he does his more serious work like Exotica
and The Sweet Hereafter, and Hoffman, whose Tucker
can best be described as an aged Kramer (as in Kramer vs.
Kramer) passing on bits of wisdom to a grandchild. It’s
predictable, it’s sentimental, but then again, so are many
of the best children’s stories.
—Laura
Leon
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