Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon

Indeed, apart from the Ozu inspired trilogy - "Pushing Hands", "The Wedding Banquet" and "Eat Drink, Man Woman", his subsequent Hollywood efforts have all been strides apart - Jane Austen's Regency England in "Sense and Sensibility", suburban 70's Connecticut angst in "Ice Storm" and American civil war actioner "Ride With The Devil".

This film is perhaps a "homecoming" of sorts for Ang, given recent Hollywood infatuation with Hong Kong action cinema. He reverses the tide of migration, using studio clout and the best of Chinese talent (made good Stateside, read $$ID=Chow Yun Fat$$ and $$ID=Michelle Yeoh$$ to create a masterly tribute to 70's HK martial arts drama - all but abandoned in Asia safe for a brief, overdone revival in the early 90's. The results are more (King) Hu than Woo. Chow plays a peerless swordsman of the Wu Tang clan, Li Mu Bai on the verge of retirement from worldly grievances and is keen to give up his treasured sword, the vestigial "Green Destiny". He entrusts it to Yu Shu Lien ($$ID=Michelle Yeoh$$) for delivery to the custody of nobleman Sir Te (longtime Ang Lee collaborator, $$ID=Lung Sihung$$). But the sword, a symbol of Li's forthcoming seclusion, goes missing - stolen by a mysterious warrior woman, shrouded in black, unleashing a chain of events which sweep the protagonists in their wake - stirring their inner demons and the powerful emotional undercurrents of the film.

Chow is cool as ever, with his noble demeanor - albeit in flowing linen robes (this is his third appearance in a period swordplay drama, the others being erstwhile TV serials) rather than his customary two gun toting sartorial splendour. His swordplay style - one arm elegantly tucked behind the back - is that of the graceful, flowing Tai Chi school, associated with the Wu Tang clan rather than the usual rapidfire moves of HK filmdom. (It is perhaps fitting to mention that Jet Li was an initial candidate for the role and would perhaps have given a totally different take on it.) $$ID=Michelle Yeoh$$ (possibly her finest moment to date) exudes beauty and a subtle grace - as a woman unable to express her yearning love for Li (and vice versa) bound by obligation to remain faithful to her late betrothed, Li's comrade in arms. Their story of a love refrained stands in stark contrast to the fiery forbidden passion between Jen ($$ID=Zhang Zi Yi$$, Zhang Yi Mou's new muse) - a girl born to nobility and Lo ($$ID=Chang Chen$$) a wild nomadic tribesman. Theirs is not the mannered, cutesy courtships of popular Chinese cinema, but a turbulent love-fight relationship amidst the high plains and desert dunes. Clearly $$ID=Ang Lee$$'s take on the ubiquitous obligation and duty versus personal freedom mythos at the heart of the swordplay drama (also read the 'giri'/ 'ninjo' conflict of the Samurai genre, popularized by Japanese master Kurosawa).

There are numerous cinematic and literary references throughout from the lighthearted to the profound. The obvious Hu'isms are there in the theft/chase/fight sequences - see "A Touch Of Zen", "Raining In The Mountain" - marvelously choreographed by veteran Yuen Wo Ping (recently of "The Matrix" fame). In a spectacular scene where "Green Destiny" is first stolen, Zhang glides with agility over rooftops with a feisty $$ID=Michelle Yeoh$$ in pursuit, clutching fistfuls of stonewalls in her wake. The scene builds up to a heated battle between a seasoned warrior woman and a skillful waif - Tan Dun's sweeping score of thunderous ethnic drumbeats building up into a crescendo and a loud silence, as Zhang literally flies off into the stratosphere, leaving a solitary Michelle bewildered in the deserted courtyard. A humorous tribute to Hu's "Dragon Gate Inn" is obvious when Zhang, in tomboy guise berates and beats up a score of martial artists for their bombastic self-appellations, tearing up an inn, in the process.

The action sequences are perhaps done in a manner unfamiliar to current fans of HK martial arts cinema. While the lightning fast moves are there - blows are exchanged at a blurring pace at times - the high impact (sound effects) and edginess is missing. Again more Hu than Woo. But perhaps the titular proverbial reference to the "Hidden Dragon" is the wealth of emotion at the heart of the action. The feminist theme of sisterhood between Jen and Yu, Li's paradoxical Taoist swordsman approaching the state of Zen but is still unable to let go of the vendetta against his master's killer, a child prodigy almost turning to the dark side (shades of Darth), a master shocked by the deceit that her child student is capable of (Dickens' Miss Havisham) and most of all a facetious girl-woman afraid of her own unknown potential when she surpasses the skills of her master. All this and yes, the hidden dragon is the personal journey to self discovery of the protagonists at the heart of Ang Lee's works - only this time in the guise of a formula swordplay epic!