Espadachim de um Braço

It takes a surprisingly long time for the one-armed swordsman in The One-Armed Swordsman to lose one of his arms - almost a quarter of the movie. Because these old martial arts movies have similar titles, I was worried maybe I was watching the wrong movie (or one of this movie's sequels/spin-offs), so that whole losing the arm scene was a weird relief in a way, even though within the film, it's an abrupt and graphic (for 1967) scene. I always think about American movies from this year being radical, but they've got nothing on stuff like this when it comes to violence. Not many people lose arms in Bonnie and Clyde, is all I'm saying. Several do in this movie!

The film itself? It's quite good. It's one of those earlier Shaw Brothers movies that has a slower pace than their 1970s and 1980s movies, but the action still mostly satisfies; it's just not as snappy or quite as fancily choreographed. It's also got a little more story than many other old martial arts movies, which works sometimes (there are memorable heroes and villains) and misfires at other times (it indulges in a melodramatic love triangle for a scene or two, and it feels like a scene or two too many for this kind of film).

Overall, a good but not quite great Shaw Brothers flick, and I'm looking forward to seeing more from this series (besides the crossover movie with Zatoichi and The One-Armed Swordsman, which I saw a couple of years ago now. Might be worth a rewatch though).

We are here in the mythology of the one-armed swordsman. Jimmy Wang Yu is this one. He loses his arm to a woman who loves him and hates him at the same time. He leaves his Kung Fu school to live in anonymity. But his past will force him to put forward his talent because of a woman.

The scheme is ultra classic. And the form too. Chang Cheh will make a more violent version of the film with the brilliant La Rage Du Tigre (1971) which will be much more violent, furious and masculine (the women have no influence on the story) and also less mawkish than this one which lacks subversion in an unsurprising framework. Jimmy Wang Yu does what he can, but he is not really helped, supported, transported, by the other actors who are a bit bland or else in sneers, nor by the two actresses (for the only two female characters) who are in the embarrassed pettiness. The fights are not particularly memorable, except for the super villain (whom we discover at the end) with his particular tools and his secret boot that allow us to get out of the routine of the usual fights for this kind of production.

I'm not a big expert on Hong Kong cinema, or Martial Arts movies, but I've seen my fair share of Kong Fu flicks, and this remarkable picture is definitely among the best. What it has going for it is first and foremost a great story about a one-handed swordsman who wants to quit the "Martial Arts business" but has one last debt of honor to repay. The film sets up its characters and plot in great detail, so we are involved from the outset. The villains are ferocious and the sword battles (this one has only sword battles, not actual Kong Fu) are great. It's a vicious, violent film, but also very tender. Acting is very good for this kind of picture. The heroes are heroic, the bad guys are sneering. Production design is also top-notch, great scenery and props, and be sure to watch it in "SHAWSCOPE" for its Widescreen glory.

Given the bad reputation of Chinese martial arts films in general, plus the undeniable fact that many of these - including this one - use genre conventions originally developed for the popular stage (what has been called "Chinese Opera" is actually more analogous to American Vaudeville), it is only with considerable effort that an admirer if these films can persuade Americans to watch these movies, let alone appreciate them fully. But the point really is, that the directors of these films use what they have to portray the culture in which they live in a manner as completely cinematic as can be found in any national film tradition.

All this is a warm up to this: The One-Armed Swordsman is as masterful a film as Kurosawa Akira's Yojimbo.

I make this specific comparison because each film was made within a genre to which the film contributes genre-shattering innovation, while at the same time maintaining certain essential conventions that keep it safely within the genre. Thus Kurosawa's renegade ronin is a tough, cynical, manipulator of the various villains of the film, in a way even the most tragic hero of the Japanese samurai film (chambara) of the time could never be; nonetheless, he still manages to kill everyone at the end, much like all the other chambara heroes.

Similarly, Chang Cheh's One-Armed hero follows genre convention by performing super-human feats of skill (like leaving the imprint of his hand on a rock with a single blow), but just as a character, he is completely new.

The typical wu xia film of the time generally had an aristocratic hero; if he had no personal problems to deal with, he always wore white. If he had personal problems, he would drink heavily and dress like a mendicant monk. He was in utter thrall to whatever worthiest female was in his immediate vicinity; his cause was always to uphold the right, protect chastity, and further the well-being of the Chinese people as a whole. His one real defect (as a "type") was that he really liked fighting, which usually got him into trouble with those with similar enjoyments.

Chang Cheh's Feng Kong (as played by Wang Yu in what is his finest role) is not an aristocrat, but an orphaned son of a servant; he doesn't wear white, he wears black; remaining loyal to her father (his former teacher) he grows to hate the young lady who chopped off his arm (I certainly would) and grows attached to the dead warrior's daughter (with whom he sleeps without marriage) only after she has nursed him back to health - but he remains determined to control his own fate nonetheless. The future of the Chinese people doesn't interest him. Eventually, he abjures fighting and goes off to become a farmer.

As can be discovered from various interviews, Chang Cheh, in filming what is still his most completely realized vision, was perfectly aware that he was making such innovations. In fact, in terms of traditional Chinese culture alone, The One-Armed Swordsman comes across as a radical Confucian demand for recognition of merit above social status; and of the need for social stability over and against any desire for personal revenge.

Furthermore, Chang Cheh pulls this off in a manner utterly consistent with the social trends of the 1960s - Feng Kong is portrayed as an "angry young man" - the representative of an entire generation fed up with many of the myths of the old culture to which they have been indoctrinated. He is brazen, energetic, honest, and more than a little suspicious of old prejudices (which have never favored him anyway). And having been told that he was not "born worthy", he sets out to proves that he can learn self-sufficiency without the benefit of institutional education. He doesn't need to start a revolution - he IS a revolution.

Of course, if the general quality of the film as a whole were not utterly top-notch, this message would be meaningless. But the camera-work, supporting performances by the other actors, staging and direction, and most of the editing are all "world-class" - as good as anything coming out of Hollywood that decade, and better than any Hollywood film of the decade's latter half.

Let the genre conventions be what they are, and pay respect to one of the best films of its type - and perhaps one of the finest films ever made, world-wide.

I just watched the Dragon Dynasty DVD release of this movie that I'd last seen over 40 years ago as an impressionable pre-teen in Hong Kong. The restoration is quite stunning. The colors are vibrant and the print is mostly scratch-free. You also get to appreciate how director Chang Cheh in the late 60s/early 70s was a cut-above-the-rest storyteller with his camera placement and some fluid tracking shots, thereby transcending a lot of the hackneyed scripting, stilted acting and the studio-bound sets. However, I also took exception to the fact that the DVD did not contain commentary by Quentin Tarantino as promised by the box notes, and the 2 "film students" who did provide commentary left a lot to be desired. Surely Tarantino would have remarked upon the fact that the most noticeable parts of the musical score (including the entire end title scene) was lifted lock, stock and barrel from the 1966 Ralph Nelson western DUEL AT DIABLO. (Composer Neal Hefti's estate should sue!) And at another dramatic moment, a very familiar John Barry suspense motif from the Connery Bond films makes a 3-second appearance. It's really pathetic that these "film scholars" completely missed these cultural touchstones that make Hong Kong movies from this era such crazy-quilt pleasures.