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Yimou Zhang’s new wuxia House of Flying Daggers has all the visual extravaganza of Hero but thrice its emotional heft, putting it almost on a par with Ang Lee’s extraordinary Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Moments such as the echo dance (trust me, you’ll know it when you see & hear it) reminded me of Satyajit Ray’s The Music Room — the mesmerizing routine drops the viewer squarely into Chinese culture. It’s one of those cinematic moments that assured me I was in for something special, even though the picture had only just begun. Much to my delight, many more such sequences — even if they can’t quite match the echo dance’s grandeur — take place throughout House of Flying Daggers, right down to an eye-popping snowy finale in the fields. There may not be a director more in tune with the art of choreography than Zhang, and he duplicates Hero’s mastery of alignment, synch, and pacing here. Even when a scene or shot seems like it might appear absurd—or obscenely melodramatic — Zhang’s direction is so controlled that they inevitably avoid feeling over-the-top. Even the apocalyptic wail that’s become so commonplace in today’s cinema to coax emotion from the audience feels right at home under Zhang’s steady hand.
859 A.D. In House of Flying Daggers, China’s Tang Dynasty — one of the crowning empires in Chinese history — is coming apart. Turmoil and civil unrest are prominent, compounded by a corrupt government and an incompetent emperor (unlike Zhang’s Hero, in which the emperor is sharp enough to match wits with the master assassin). One of the most deadly and prodigious underground alliances is the rebel army House of Flying Daggers, a group of Robin Hood types that poach from the rich — using uncanny accuracy with the thrown knife — and donate to the poor. Not even their leader’s death at the hands of local deputies slows down the House of Daggers. Zhang’s film tells of Jin (Takeshi Kaneshiro of Chungking Express), one of China’s finest policemen, who wanders into the Peony Pavilion (there’s no precise American equivalent; think of a brothel, a geisha house, and showroom rolled into one) and becomes enthralled with Mei (the astounding Ziyi Zhang; more later on that), an alluring blind dancer. Of course, much was initially an act — Jin was posing as intoxicated in order to smoke out a hidden member of the House of Daggers — but as the picture progresses and Jin continues to expand his plan to track down the House’s mysterious new leader, a deep attachment between Jin and Mei begins to materialize…just how much is honest and how much is false — on both sides — remains an enigma until the very end.
I could continue summarizing, but 1) I dislike stuffing my reviews with bloated, New York Post style fat (the previous paragraph is more plot description than my usual) and 2) it’s really beside the point in House of Flying Daggers. Lots of plot twists emerge as the movie develops, most of which managed to catch me off-guard—that said, even those who guess them ahead of time won’t lose much, if anything. There’s more thorough character development here than I expected after Hero — if I had a major problem with that picture, it’s that I found it predominantly a gorgeous political statement. House of Flying Daggers spoke to me much more deeply — like CTHD’s affecting journey, Jin and Mei’s every encounter struck a chord with me. I’m generally not a fan of ‘instant love’ — think 40’s melodrama, where the “I love you’s” are churned out like bakery baguettes — but House of Flying Daggers makes Jin & Mei’s three-day trek exceptionally believable on all emotional levels…no matter how much ends up being truthful (and there’s plenty of deception in House of Flying Daggers), Zhang’s statement on love’s magic, inexplicable chemistry, and heartfelt sacrifices is itself poignantly candid. None of this would be possible without the outstanding performances. Kaneshiro’s boyish exuberance is laced with an underlying yearning for something deeper than his playboy traits indicate, but his terrific work pales next to that of Zhang Ziyi, who might turn in the performance of the decade. Phil Hall of Film Threat notes that House of Flying Daggers seals her place as the best working actress today, and I’m hard pressed to argue — ’ve been in love with her since her turn as Jen in CTHD, and she’s simply extraordinary here. Bryce Dallas Howard — who played a blind woman so ludicrously in The Village — should carefully watch Ziyi’s deftness here and smack herself every minute she is forced to realize how poor her portrayal was. Ziyi’s every mannerism and step is fluid and natural. As her character evolves, her role becomes more and more demanding, and she consistently shows that she’s up for any acting challenge. Rarely has anyone mixed delicate beauty with a carnal bloodlust as well as Ziyi here. The supporting cast — particularly Andy Lau as Leo — is worthy, but next to Ziyi, they’re just that: supporting. Oh...and boy, what a handsome couple they make! Goodness, theirs would be some children ...
Zhang's complex color schemes and eloquent camerawork—his eye is almost manipulatively beautiful, and I mean that in the best way possible— are fascinating: for example, he evokes all four seasons even though House of Flying Daggers covers a short span. The tone often shifts magically within a scene (a montage near the end is a sight to behold, as is a silky battle in a bamboo forest). If I seem to be resorting to hyperbole here, it’s only because that’s how I felt while watching this masterpiece—who wants to be picky and artsy-fartsy while being swept away? 120 minutes never breezed by so quickly. I can only hope Sony Pictures pushes House of Flying Daggers for more than simply foreign film consideration at this year’s award shows. With a wide release, it could garner the same commercial and critical momentum that Crouching Tiger did in 2000.
Edit: A second viewing severely dropped my opinion on this one, as the hokey moments became...well, hokey. Bah. :(
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