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King Eagle

Ti Lung gets all teary over a dead friend in King Eagle

If I were to try to sum up Chang Cheh’s films in a single word, it would be 'erratic'. Before watching one of his movies, there is no way of telling what you’re in for. The same team of director, screenwriter, action directors and actors could turn out masterpieces just as easily as they could stinkers.

So I flipped the Chang Cheh coin with King Eagle and thankfully it came up heads—the team delivers a fun swordplay wuxia built on strong performances from Ti Lung and Li Ching and a host of entertaining weapons.

After the leader of a martial arts clan is assassinated, wandering hero Jin (Ti Lung) learns the killer’s identity, but refuses to get involved. Stoic and aloof, Jin’s only interested in events that affect him personally. Clan business is not his concern.

When the killer’s henchmen slaughter some of Jin’s friends, it would appear that the hero will finally meddle in the clan’s affairs. But no, he only wants to kill the henchmen. Then it’s back to his normal state of disinterest.

It’s not until he meets and falls for Yuk Lin (Li Ching), 8th chief of the clan and sister of the evil Bing Er (also Li Ching), that Jin’s heart stirs him action.

It’s Ti Lung’s unflappable stoniness, and his evolution to heartbroken hero, that makes King Eagle one of Chang Cheh’s good films. More often than not, the work of the lead actors indicates if the film will be a good Chang effort or not. Perhaps inspired by Chang’s enthusiasm, his favorite actors put out the extra effort that makes a film shine. Or maybe it’s the actors that inspired Chang. In a collaborative medium like film making, it was probably a bit of both.

King Eagle
Dir: Chang Cheh
Released: January 1, 1971

The Singing Killer

David Chiang and Wong Ping in The Singing Killer

What’s strange about The Singing Killer is not the musical numbers, or David Chiang’s laggardly lip-synching. It’s that Chang Cheh took his most dynamic, charming star and turned him into a nearly lifeless lump. For most of the film, Chiang’s gold lamé pants are ten times more exciting than the man wearing them.

Granted, Johnny, the titular singing killer, is supposed to be moody and preoccupied; as his singing career launches him to stardom, Johnny longs for the girl he lost and worries that his criminal past will destroy his life. But Chiang takes this conflicted character and drains him of energy. Even during his upbeat musical numbers, he looks dreary and static.

Without Chiang’s dynamism, there’s very little to prop up the film’s factory-standard plot. Chang Cheh continues the migration from swordplay films to kung fu films with the film’s early action scenes, which feature some nice fisticuffs. But by the film’s end, most of the fighting is done with guns, and is not nearly as interesting.

Even for die-hard fans of David Chiang/Ti Lung pairings, the film has very little to offer. Ti Lung has one line in the film and appears, briefly, in two scenes. Vengeance! this is not.

The Singing Killer
Dir: Chang Cheh
Released: December 22, 1970