Shaw Brothers

The Swordmates

Another almost entirely forgettable low-grade wuxia film starring people who have done better work in better films. Shaw Brothers made so many of these in the late 60s that it’s honestly hard to figure out which one is which, or come up with something new to say for each review.

What makes writing about these films even trickier is that they are so incredibly bland. Far from creative, but also far from terrible. They just coast along in the muddy, uninteresting middle of the road. Blah.

But, for a few minutes at least, Swordmades looked like it was going to break out from the mediocre pack. After establishing a traditional “swordsman chasing a secret message” plot, the film quickly veered off in a new direction, tentatively exploring the petty jealousies that drive the women of the bandit clan; it appeared that the film’s second act would be instigated by hatred that bandit mistress Hsin-yin (Chiu Sam-Yin) feels towards her stepdaughter, the film’s hero, Yan-niang (Chin Ping).

But that story is quickly supplanted by more by-the-book plotting — vicious criminals, long-lost siblings, etc. Nothing new to see here, move along.

However, even unoriginal movies can be made well. But Swordmates never strives for that sort of quality. It’s content being a jambalaya of cliches — filling the time, but leaving no impression.

Swordmates appears to be the only Shaw Brothers movie directed by Cheung Ying, about whom I can find very little information. An actor by trade, Cheung Ying directed a few Cantonese movies in the '50s and '60s. Although he acted in films for over 50 years, The Swordmates was the last film he directed.

Cheung’s Cantonese background, along with that of co-director and writer Poon Faan, highlight Shaw Brother’s evolution from a northern, Mandarin-style studio to a southern, Cantonese one. Had the film been better, and a touch more Cantonese, perhaps it would be as well remembered as The Chinese Boxer.

The Swordmates
Dir: Cheung Ying
Released: October 18, 1969

Twin Blades of Doom

As swordplay movies moved from cutting edge cinema to an over-saturated cliche, other genres withered and died. And directors who’d made their careers in these newly-extinct genre either had to change with the times or fade into obsolescence.

Doe Chin, who had spent over 20 years directing and writing romantic dramas and comedies, ended his classic-studded career with Twin Blades of Doom, a film that is neither romantic, funny or good.

I’m not suggesting that directors should be restricted to a genre. Every artist should have the freedom to explore. But considering the rigorous contract system in place at Shaw Brothers, I doubt that Doe Chin directed this film out of a strong desire to make wuxia films. Most likely a swordplay film needed to be made, and Doe was without a project. Thus Twin Blades of Doom was born.

A thoroughly standard wuxia story buried under dozens of layers of dead ends and plot twists, Twin Blades of Doom fails to generate much interest at any level. Even the romance between its leads, Chang (Ling Yun) and Yin-erh (Cheng Lee), fizzles. Despite Doe Chin’s previous experience with romantic films, there’s not much he can do with a script as muddle-headed as this one.

Sadly, Doe Chin never even got to finish Twin Blades of Doom. He died of stomach cancer before completing the film. Maybe he could have made the transition from romances to wuxia, given a better script and more time. Instead, all we have the rather ill-fitting eulogy, Twin Blades of Doom.

Twin Blades of Doom
Dir: Doe Chin/Yue Feng
Released: January 1, 1969

The Flying Dagger

Chang Cheh was a director with a handful of themes that fascinated him throughout his career — loner heroes, honorable deaths and male bonding. His intense focus makes his movies ripe for auteur analysis, but it also means that, after a while, all of his films start to look the same.

Chang could break out of his rut when he wanted to; among the 6 films he released in 1969 were unique, if not always good, features like The Singing Thief and Dead End.

Yes, 6 films in 1969. Could anyone be so endlessly creative that they could write and direct a distinctive movie every 2 months? When you’re the most popular director at a studio that prides itself on its efficient, factory-like production methods, your films are going to start looking like factory products.

So if The Flying Dagger looks like a lifeless, paint-by-numbers rehash of better Chang Cheh films it’s certainly understandable.

The plot is cookie cutter Chang — Lo Lieh stars as the morally ambiguous, antisocial swordsman Yang Qing who assists (reluctantly) Yu Ying (Chang Pei Pei) and her wounded father (Ching Miao) in their battle with Jiao Lei and the Green Dragon Clan (Yang Chi-ching).

There are moments when the film looks like it’s going to break free of its formula. Yang Qing is more dislikable than any Chang hero since Silver Roc in Golden Swallow; at times, he’s downright evil. But by the time the credits roll, his harsh corners have been softened by a tale of childhood woe and the movie’s edge has dissipated.

What’s left is a standard Chang film that’s never bad but also never memorable. But, hey, when you make films non-stop, not every one of them is going to stand out.

The Flying Dagger
Dir: Chang Cheh
Released: June 18, 1969

Have Sword, Will Travel

Gimmicks have a way of overwhelming the films they are supposed to enhance. Filmmakers get so enamored with new technology that they forget to use it in service of the story and instead use it everywhere they can.

While Have Sword, Will Travel certainly wasn’t Chang Cheh’s first film to feature slow motion, he certainly acted like it was, throwing in slow-mo shots at any opportunity. The hero jumps? Slow-mo. The hero falls backwards? Slow-mo. Blood spurts? Slow-mo.

And that’s a shame, because the entire film builds towards a fantastic slow-mo sequence that would have been a knock-out punch had in not been preceded by endless scenes of pointless slow-mo.

Chang’s overuse of his gimmick undercuts the climax of the film’s love triangle. Heroes and sweethearts Siang Jin (Ti Lung) and Yun Piao Piao (Li Ching) must take charge of the security of a vital currency shipment after the formerly fearsome Lord In (Ching Miao) is taken ill and loses his powers.

On their way to the assignment they meet itinerant swordsman Lo Yi (David Chiang), whose speed with his sword and fondness for Piao Piao raises Siang’s hackles and warms Piao Piao’s heart.

Despite regular evidence to the contrary, Siang is convinced that Lo is working for the Flying Tigers, a gang of bandits trying to steal the cash. Despite Siang’s distrust, Lo joins the caravan when he finds out about Lord In’s illness.

When the Flying Tigers spring their ambush, Siang is separated from Lo and Piau Piau. As Lo debates between saving the doubting swordsman or taking Piau Piau for himself, he foresees his own death, followed by a vision Siang and Piau Piau riding of happily into marriage.

Shot in slow-motion, Lo’s premonition encapsulates the moral crux at the heart of most Chang Cheh films — when presented with a choice between happiness and honor, Chang’s heroes always choose honor. If Chang had chosen to make this the film’s only slow-mo scene, it would have stood out as a powerful statement. Instead, it’s almost swamped by Chang’s overuse of the gimmick.

Have Sword, Will Travel
Dir: Chang Cheh
Released: December 25, 1969

Farewell, My Love

Whither Chin Chien? The famous director of wenyi dramas (tearjerkers based on novels) committed suicide in late 1969. But, somehow, he released two movies in November of that year, and one more in early 1970.

How involved Chin was in the production of these films is a question I can’t answer. It’s possible that the films had been complete for months before his death and the studio was waiting for the right time to release them. Or it could be that the films were assembled, jigsaw like, and rushed to screens after Chin’s death.

As the first of these three films to hit theaters, Farewell, My Love is a surprisingly solid film, suggesting that it was completed by Chin before his death. It’s certainly a better film than his previous wenyi, Unfinished Melody, thanks to two strong acting jobs by Kwan Shan and Jenny Hu.

When loving wife Jiang Han (Julie Yeh Feng) finds that she’s dying of cancer, she searches for a woman to take her place — someone to care for husband Liu Shimin’s (Kwan Shan) and daughter Ling Ling (Niu Niu). Once icy window Luo Chuchu (Jenny Hu) starts work at Liu’s company, the final piece of the tragic-yet-heartwarming love triangle is in place.

Ironically, Kwan Shan and Jenny Hu’s performances overshadow the film’s purported star, Julie Yeh Feng, longtime star of wenyi weepies. Jenny Hu is only billed as a guest star, but I’d guess that she spends more time on screen then Yeh Feng. Yeh probably deserved a more glamorous exit from acting (this was her last film for Shaw Brothers, and her next to last film appearance) than being upstaged by a guest star.

The film’s plot mirrors the reality of filmmaking in the late sixties and early seventies. Wenyi films were on their deathbed, and its obvious that the studio didn’t give Farewell, My Love much support. The sets are chintzy and the whole affair has a strong odor of a threadbare budget. And, just as Jiang Han anoints Luo as her successor, Jenny Hu became one of Shaw’s preeminent actresses of the seventies — while both Yeh Feng and Kwan Shan left the studio.

Farewell, My Love
Dir: Chin Chien
Released: November 14, 1969

Dead End

By 1969, I imagine that Chang Cheh pretty much controlled his own destiny at Shaw Brothers studio. As their most popular and profitable director, he was probably given a pretty free hand in developing his own projects.

And, after 5 years of directing swordplay pictures, what Chang wanted to do was remake the landmark film of the French New Wave, Breathless.

At least that would be my guess after watching Chang’s Dead End, certainly the Frenchiest film to emerge from the Hong Kong studio. Packed with unusual edits, pop culture references and allusions to Jean-Luc Godard, Dead End is Chang obviously pushing Shaw’s, and his own, artistic boundaries.

For his foray into new territory, Chang chose a new leading man, Ti Lung — Jimmy Wang Yu’s time in Chang’s spotlight was over, it seems. Ti, along with David Chiang, quickly became Chang’s Anna Karina, starring in a slew of the director’s 1970s films.

Although most of Ti’s films would be action-heavy kung fu or swordplay flicks, his first starring role was as the childish, disaffected office worker Zhang Chun. Fired after a nighttime liaison on his desk, Zhang celebrates by singing nursery rhymes with his friend David (David Chiang) and their co-girlfriend Mary (Angela Yu Chien).

When Zhang meets Wen Rou (Li Ching), he tries to straighten up and fly right and the two have a series of dates that could be placed, unnoticed, into almost any French film from the 1960s. The couple hang out in junked Euro-sedans, smoke endless cigarettes, try on fancy hats, walk through the rain without an umbrella and stroll through the sunshine with one. Wacky kids.

Chang, however, either couldn’t or didn’t want to escape traditional Shaw Brothers story telling. Dead End hinges on several Chang Cheh trademarks/clich√©s: a conflict with Wen Rou’s elitist older brother (Chen Hung Lieh); several well-staged fights between Ti and gangs of nameless toughs; and, predictably, a shirtless Ti Lung trying to hold in his own severed bowels.

But these were elements that Chang knew well, and he uses them competently. Even if Dead End never fulfills the promise of importing the French New Wave to Hong Kong, it remains interesting because of its unique blend of the two cultures.

Dead End
Dir: Chang Cheh
Released: July 12, 1969

Raw Passions

There’s very little about Raw Passions that isn’t confusing. From its flash-forward opening to its plot of endlessly cris-crossing blackmail schemes, the whole endeavor never makes much sense. But the real question is this — why, if the star is one of the biggest actresses in Hong Kong and Taiwan, would Shaw Brothers spend most of the film focusing on the boobs of second-rate actress Meng Li?

Well, ok, maybe the answer to that question is obvious to boob fans. But for fans of Ivy Ling Po, the popular actress that Passions largely ignores in favor of Meng’s mammaries, the answer is probably more elusive.

A purported thriller, Raw Passions doesn’t have enough plot to fill its 85 minute running time. Instead of adding more story, the filmmakers add endless musical and belly dancing routines — many of which feature Meng Li’s breasts and crotch.

For those of you who don’t think that an entire movie can be based on bosoms, there’s not much to recommend Raw Passions. Ling Po plays suspicious, jealous wife Lin Man Ying, whose husband, Lin Sau Ming (Kao Yuan), is blackmailed by vixen Sasa (Meng Li and her bust) for no good reason at all. Sasa is also blackmailing Lin’s boss, Tao Wai Kong (Wang Hsieh), for knocking her up.

When Sasa turns up dead, Sau Ming is the main susepct. He and his wife are hounded by even more blackmailers, all trying to get money out of whoever they can. When she’s not being blackmailed, Man Ying tries to prove her husband’s innocence while also harboring suspicions that he’s been unfaithful.

But, really, once Meng Li’s breasts are out of the film, the whole endeavor looses steam and the plot unreels with unsurprising twist after twist until the murderer is revealed. If only the script writer could have figured out a way for Sasa to be killed by her own cleavage.

Raw Passions
Dir: Lo Chen
Released: September 14, 1969

Torrent Of Desire (Torrents Of Desire)

Ah, to be rich and young in Hong Kong. Sleeping all day, partying all night — a laid back life of leisure and luxury. Until your drunken, naked sister mucks it all up. Isn’t that always the way?

Shaw’s modern-day films show just how prepared the studio was to move into television; soap operas to the core, the films revel in the over-the-top trials of Hong Kong’s wealthy.

Much like Summer Heat, which was released almost exactly one year earlier, Torrent Of Desire features an indolent, spoiled youth with an English name, David (Chiao Chuang), his moral companion, Chen Hanming (Yang Fan) and a beautiful woman, Zhu Danfeng (Jenny Hu).

While David’s father travels the world, David drinks and womanizes, coming home only to yell at his sister Mona (Angela Yu Chien), whose only crime is behaving as wontly as her brother.

But when David meets Zhu, he pins his redemption to her love — not exactly a method approved by Alcoholics Anonymous, but it works. As their relationship blooms, David lays off the sauce.

Of course, nothing could ever be that simple. Chen also loves Zhu, and Mona loves Chen. In these films, those with Chinese names are deferential while those with English names are more wild. So Chen swallows his feelings for the good of his friends and Mona gets drunk, parades around naked and blathers Chen’s secret to anyone she can find.

I enjoy a good soap opera, but Torrent is weakend by two major problems, Chiao Chung and Angela Yu Chien as David and Mona. Chiao Chung was mostly cast in wuxia films, a genre that suited his delicate, otherworldly features. Placed in a suit and tie, he looks out of place. While he was never Shaw’s greatest actor, he was fine in character roles such as Bai Yutang in King Cat. But he wasn’t meant to be a leading man. Torrent was his last Shaw Brothers film.

Angela Yu Chien, on the other hand, made many more films for Shaw thanks to her willingness to get naked on film. The Chinese film industry has always been very traditional and proper. Actresses that got naked on screen have rarely been able to throw off the taint and become “serious” actresses.

Because of this, actresses that took off their clothes were a rare commodity, so the roles were filled by women whose acting skills were a secondary consideration.

All of this is a long-winded way of saying that Angela Yu Chien isn’t very good. Mona could have been a sympathetic character, a woman that turned to debauchery in order to cover a broken heart. Instead, Yu portrays her as a drunken cat in heat.

Director Lo Chen may bear some of the responsibility for Yu, but his films are usually pretty good, so I’ll cut him some slack. Lo also livens up the film with a great opening sequence that mixes deep reds and sickly geens to introduce the siblings. Later on, he replaces a scene’s saccharine dialog with Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March,” which tells the audience all they need to know. Clever.

Torrent Of Desire (sometimes listed as Torrents Of Desire)
Dir: Lo Chen
Released: November 7, 1969

The Golden Sword

I was hesitant when I put this film in my DVD player. After all, it was directed by Lo Wei, a man best described as the Roger Corman of Hong Kong. But even Corman was tied to his material. Maybe instead of blaming Lo Wei, I should be looking farther up the filmmaking food chain.

Many of Shaw’s wuxia films were based on serial novels that stretched a story over thousands of pages, dozens of characters, numerous plots and sub-plots. Adapting these novels for film is obviously a challenge. A script writer can either focus on one small story to the exclusion of all others, or try to squeeze 5 films worth of plot into 90 minutes.

Golden Sword mistakenly tries both of these approaches. The first half of the film focuses on a very narrow story, while the last half tries to explain 30 years of sub plots. So which screenwriter deserves the blame for ill considered mix? Uh, Lo Wei, who wrote the scripts for nearly all of his films.

Well, at least I tried to cut Lo Wei a break.

In the first half, Ngai Jin Fung (Cheng Pei Pei) and Bai Yu Lung (Kao Yuan) search for the missing Chief Bai, trekking throughout the Chinese frontier as they fall in love. Much of this plays like a role-reversed Come Drink With Me, with Pei Pei taking on the part of the begging Drunken Cat.

This part of the film is quite enjoyable, mostly because of the fight sequences, which feature long shots of Cheng Pei Pei beating the snot out of all challengers. Excellent fight choreography combined with long shots that show the fights to their fullest? That doesn’t sound like Lo Wei. What’s going on?

Sammo Hung Kam Bo, that’s what’s going on. Although he is credited as an action director on Come Drink With Me, Golden Sword is the first film to show Hung’s remarkable abilities. He did only a handful of Shaw Brothers films before moving to Golden Harvest in 1971, and those films were only benefitted by his presence.

In the film’s second half, the fights are hurt by the absence of Cheng Pei Pei, and the plot is bogged down by trying to explain a bunch of new characters and their attending backstories. My favorite scene is when a background character removes his mask and reveals that he is, in fact, some superfluous guy we’ve never seen before. Um, hooray?

Thanks to Sammo Hung and Cheng Pei Pei, the first half of Golden Sword is well worth watching. But I can’t recommend sticking around until the end.

The Golden Sword
Dir: Lo Wei
Released: October 15, 1969

The Three Smiles

It’s fitting that Shaw Brothers wrapped up the 1960s with the last major haungmei film they would ever make (the genre made a one-film comeback in 1977). No other genre summarizes the 60s Shaw style — light, stylish, pretty and romantic — than the yellow plum opera.

In the early 60s, as Shaw battled MP & GI, it was the haungmei films, and the luscious widescreen Shaw Scope, that set Shaw Brothers apart. Later, when the opera craze cooled and the nostalgia for old styles had faded, the same techniques that powered the yellow plum operas were applied to a slew of more modern musicals, spy films and comedies.

By 1969, Shaw Brothers hadn’t released a yellow plum opera since 1966’s The Mirror And The Lichee. I don’t know why the studio chose to make another opera after such a long break — maybe they had their own kind of nostalgia, or perhaps it was the enduring popularity of star Ivy Ling Po — but they approached the project with gusto, casting Ling Po and Li Ching, their two biggest female stars, in the leads and assigning veteran director Yueh Feng to write and direct.

Like its predecessors, Three Smiles is based on a well-known story, and the film does very little to mess with the haungmei formula that had worked so well for so many films — Tang (Ling Po), a supercilious aesthete scholar, falls for the maid Autumn Fragrance (Li Ching) after she smiles at him, you guessed it, three times. To pursue his love, he sells himself into servitude so he can work by her side.

This “Scholar and the Beauty” storyline formed the basis of the majority of haungmei films — indeed, Smiles' plot is almost an exact copy of 1967’s Pearl Phoenix — but Smiles adds a ton of subplots (idiot brothers, a coquettish maid, a jealous cousin, a singing boatman) to lessen the deja vu and increase the comedy.

The film’s standout moments are its opening scenes, filmed outdoors, when Tang and Autumn Fragrance meet. The wide-open vistas make the film more naturalistic than the usual studio-bound operas; and Yueh tries some new stylistic tricks, adapting the freeze-fame effects he used in Bells Of Death for a lighter genre.

But once Tang enters the Hua household, the film begins to choke on its familiar story and overabundance of sub-plots. It’s never bad, but it certainly doesn’t make a case for the freshness of the haungmei genre. Nostalgia can only carry a genre too far; by 1969, it was time for Shaw Brothers to move on to something new.

The Three Smiles
Dir: Yueh Feng
Released: September 25, 1969