54
186
11
The Butterfly
Tornado Alley
"The wind breezes through without a trace"
House of Flying Daggers was a movie where style over substance wasn’t a failing. Zhang Yi Mou pulled out his magical color palette and bathed the screen with gorgeous deep hues. Beautiful people wore luxurious costumes as they danced, fought, and loved in the kaleidoscope background. This director knows how to hit all my film watching pleasure spots through sight and sound.
The plot is fairly simple. With a failing and corrupt government, the underground House of Daggers grew into being. Stealing from the rich and helping the poor while fighting against the crooked officials they’ve earned a target on their backs. Jin and Liu are tasked with bringing down the Daggers’ leader. They suspect the new blind dancer at the Peony Pavilion is the daughter of the recently deceased leader and seek to use her to guide them to the alliance through subterfuge. Jin goes undercover as someone taken with her beauty and breaks her out of jail. The only problem is, “who’s zoomin’ who?”
The thin storyline worked largely due to the commitment of Zhang Zi Yi and Kaneshiro Takeshi in playing adversaries pretending to have fallen for each other, especially when their true feelings begin to trip them up. Their relationship evolves from brutal possession to erotic whispering caresses. Treachery and zealous devotion played out both personally and professionally for a number of people. The twists and turns may not have been earthshattering but they were entertaining. They also showed how little value was put on the lives of the pawns in the game between two powerful forces.
Tony Ching choreographed numerous wire-fu fights with swords and speeding daggers. The battle in the bamboo forest was stunning. Soldiers crawling up and down the verdant trees while also using them as weapons was enthralling. For the most part people were shown full body length in order to observe the intensity of the fights. When the bamboo shatters or impales it was both beautiful and shocking. The singing daggers could bend in flight and bank off of objects to land their targets. While not a fight, Zhang Zi Yi’s dance with the drums was breathtaking and quite memorable. Zhang Jianmin’s dance choreography flowed with power equal to any fight in the film. The percussion ballet was as magnificent as the bamboo one.
Umebayashi Shigeru’s score could be wistful one moment and heart pounding the next. Romantic, playful, traditional and modern, the music enhanced every scene. Zhang’s use of color never ceases to amaze me. Whether in the feminine Peony Pavilion with pink dresses and butterflies or the autumnal trees and falling leaves of the forest, he never neglects the important visual aspects of his films. As mentioned before, the emerald bamboo battle was one of the most iconic scenes from his films.
Mei and Jin’s life and death decisions were made in the sheer elegance and poetry of Zhang’s visual style accompanied by a haunting score. The plot involving both personal and national passions played out in the forests, fields of flowers, and snow. It’s hard to say which was more captivating, I tend to lose my sense of perspective when immersed in Zhang Yi Mou’s world.
3 February 2024
The plot is fairly simple. With a failing and corrupt government, the underground House of Daggers grew into being. Stealing from the rich and helping the poor while fighting against the crooked officials they’ve earned a target on their backs. Jin and Liu are tasked with bringing down the Daggers’ leader. They suspect the new blind dancer at the Peony Pavilion is the daughter of the recently deceased leader and seek to use her to guide them to the alliance through subterfuge. Jin goes undercover as someone taken with her beauty and breaks her out of jail. The only problem is, “who’s zoomin’ who?”
The thin storyline worked largely due to the commitment of Zhang Zi Yi and Kaneshiro Takeshi in playing adversaries pretending to have fallen for each other, especially when their true feelings begin to trip them up. Their relationship evolves from brutal possession to erotic whispering caresses. Treachery and zealous devotion played out both personally and professionally for a number of people. The twists and turns may not have been earthshattering but they were entertaining. They also showed how little value was put on the lives of the pawns in the game between two powerful forces.
Tony Ching choreographed numerous wire-fu fights with swords and speeding daggers. The battle in the bamboo forest was stunning. Soldiers crawling up and down the verdant trees while also using them as weapons was enthralling. For the most part people were shown full body length in order to observe the intensity of the fights. When the bamboo shatters or impales it was both beautiful and shocking. The singing daggers could bend in flight and bank off of objects to land their targets. While not a fight, Zhang Zi Yi’s dance with the drums was breathtaking and quite memorable. Zhang Jianmin’s dance choreography flowed with power equal to any fight in the film. The percussion ballet was as magnificent as the bamboo one.
Umebayashi Shigeru’s score could be wistful one moment and heart pounding the next. Romantic, playful, traditional and modern, the music enhanced every scene. Zhang’s use of color never ceases to amaze me. Whether in the feminine Peony Pavilion with pink dresses and butterflies or the autumnal trees and falling leaves of the forest, he never neglects the important visual aspects of his films. As mentioned before, the emerald bamboo battle was one of the most iconic scenes from his films.
Mei and Jin’s life and death decisions were made in the sheer elegance and poetry of Zhang’s visual style accompanied by a haunting score. The plot involving both personal and national passions played out in the forests, fields of flowers, and snow. It’s hard to say which was more captivating, I tend to lose my sense of perspective when immersed in Zhang Yi Mou’s world.
3 February 2024
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