(Please note: this is a film review for Hero and while I do
my best to avoid unnecessary spoilers, I cannot make it completely spoiler-free. Hero is a 99-minute long wuxia film directed
by Zhang Yimou and one of my favorite films, available from Netflix’s Instant
Queue and Myrin Library. If you have any
interest in watching the film, I highly recommend that you watch it before
reading my blossay.)
I can still remember my older brother renting Zhang Yimou's Hero from Blockbuster shortly after it was made available for home rental--about eight years ago. It's the very first foreign language English-subtitled movie I can remember watching. I would have thought that reading subtitles was going to be a chore, but soon after the move started, I don't remember minding at all. Why? Well, I can still vividly remember it being such a stunning spectacle in my 13-year-old (or so) eyes. Not only was I impressed by the actual martial arts of the fight scenes, but also the amazing scenery and how they were interwoven in these struggles between masterful, graceful fighters. Ten years later, I could still think back and remember elements of the first fight. I still had vivid memories of the beautiful courtyard, the magnificent effect of rain and water, and the plucking of the old musician's stringed instrument.
Having never seen any wuxia films other than Hero prior to
our screening of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (CTHD), I came into it with
expectations from my rose-tinted memories of watching Hero as a kid. It may come as a surprise, but these expectations made we walk away from CTHD somewhat unsatisfied. CTHD
is a fantastic and expertly-crafted film, with my frame of mind of what a wuxia film was, it seems that maybe I wanted more of an epic, sweeping adventure.
I decided to re-watch Hero after eight years to reassess what made my expectations as they were. If I were to suggest a singular film that truly seems to capture the essence of wuxia, I could very confidently say that Hero would be that film.
The overarching story of Hero is based
on a mythological retelling of the historical origin of China and it's first emperor, and woven into the plot of Hero is the concept of storytelling
and narrative itself. The plot works within a framework of having the protagonist,
known as Nameless (Jet Li), and the King of Qin (Chen Daoming) exchanging stories. Each telling of a story is beautifully portrayed in a series of flashbacks. The audience likely won't be privy to Nameless's scheming at first. The film takes place in a mythic land of wuxia, where inhuman feats are possible, so we take his tales as truth. We can easily be made to forget that while the characters can accomplish the feats portrayed, they may still simply choose to create their own versions of the truth. I think it is particularly interesting how the characters of the film who are already living legends use stories as a means to an end, because stories are the only way we can experience these types of heroes in real life. By the time that we get to the supposed truth of events, we have the protagonist reassess his entire mission after ten long years of preparation. At that point, the "right" thing to do is no longer clear. The subject of sacrifice for the greater good and the needs of the many is juxtaposed against vengeance and a challenge against potential tyranny.
While the origins and station of the heroes of wuxia tend to be modest, their adventures and undertakings are everything but. Part of the reason I didn't enjoy CTHD as much as I thought I would was likely simply due to scope. I think that CTHD provided beautiful characterization of the retirement of a wuxia hero (Li Mu Bai), and the struggles of one who yearns to live that type of free life (Jen). The problem for me was that I wanted to know of the great adventures of Li Mu Bai. I wanted to see the experiences that made Shu Lien the powerful and honorable woman she was. I want to stress that there is nothing wrong about showing the conflicts that are more subtle and repressed. We should consider that Lee Ang's intent was not to make the quintessential wuxia film. It was interesting how both films have love stories, but have the characters express their love in such different ways. Li Mu Bai and Shu Lien’s love for one another was something that I feel fits well under my (somewhat nebulous) idea of “zimny ogień,” or “cold fire.” Their love has intense passion, but it is not outwardly expressed, instead it is withheld and kept inside due to obligations to uphold societal expectations. In Hero, Broken Sword and Flying Snow’s love is portrayed in a more dramatic and theatrical manner. We witness a unique relationship where they must engage in combat against each other, because of conflicting motives (where one believes firmly that the king must be assassinated, while the other is convinced that he must live), and even in an attempt to save the other's life (by attempting to wound the other enough so they cannot continue the mission, but not severely enough that they might die). They both clearly express that they are willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for each other.
It’s hard to think of a scene that isn’t beautifully
arranged. The King of Qin’s beautiful palace is serene yet imposing, and his devout followers and legions of soldiers are shown in staggering masses. I am reminded of Raise the Red Lantern (which
Yimou also directed), where the palatial nature of the setting resonates due to
mise-en-scene that captures the beauty of the architecture and the dutiful work
of the servants. The fights all have
their own unique aspects of using the set to enhance their masterful portrayal of
martial arts. In one scene, Flying Snow
(Maggie Cheung) reluctantly fights someone in a forest. The fallen leaves accentuate the actions of
both combatants, but the viewer can easily tell that Flying Snow has the upper
hand. With a sweep of her sword, Flying
Snow can manipulate the air around her, rebuffing her opponent with ease. At the end of the fight, the leaves that were
previously in shades of bright yellow-orange all transition into a stark hue of
blood red. In another scene, Nameless
and Broken Sword (Tony Leung) have a duel on top of the waters of a lake. They gracefully spin and dance on top of the
water, having the ability to tread on it and hold themselves up with their
blades alone. The narration tells us
that these combatants don’t really want to fight each other, and the scene
expresses that well. Much more time is
spent in this fight on the ballet-like maneuvers of each fighter; many times
they go back and forth without striking against one another. The use of color itself, such as the green
billowy drapes in the fight between Broken Sword and the King of Qin (perhaps
signifying the challenge of newfound knowledge and reassessing one’s way of
thinking), the reds seen during the arrow bombardment of the calligraphy school
(reinforcing the power of Chinese tradition and duty), or the blues during the
scene at the lake (expressing sorrow and a loss of passion), is simply
astounding. Even scenes for the sake of transition offer us a breathtaking view
of the landscape of this imagined ancient China.
The story that Hero tells is something that feels
truly profound. The way the characters
act makes it seem like they are ancient myth made flesh. They provide a striking balance between a
certain level of realism, allowing the view for a suspension of disbelief, and
supernatural capabilities portrayed with a full confidence, that makes us
believe that this is an onscreen portrayal of the genuine heroes of wuxia as
imagined by many before us. Even supporting
characters, such as the master at the school of calligraphy, uphold this
difficult balance. As arrows rain upon
his humble school, his students flee in terror.
He stops them, saying “You must all remember. The arrows of Qin may be powerful, they may
penetrate our cities and destroy our kingdom, but they can never annihilate our
written words! Today you will all learn
the true spirit of our art.” He proceeds
to his position at the front of the class, continuing to write his calligraphy
with an astounding bravery and dignity, even as arrows pour into the room. It is enough to make all of his students
believe in the worthiness of their work and their art, as they all pick up
their tools and continue to write, even in the face of death.
Hero does a marvelous job of bringing the mystic heroes of a storyteller’s ancient
China to life on screen. The characters, setting, and thematic elements work cohesively together to make a truly evocative experience. So much must have been
labored over in the creation of the world, and it truly shows. This is a movie that another ten years from
now will still augment my expectations of film.
