Hero (Ying xiong)

Released 2002
Stars Jet Li, Tony Leung, Maggie Cheung, Zhang Ziyi, Donnie Yen, Chen Daoming
Directed by Zhang Yimou

Zhang Yimou's "Hero" is beautiful and beguiling, a martial arts extravaganza defining the styles and lives of its fighters within Chinese tradition. It is also, like "Rashomon," a mystery told from more than one point of view; we hear several stories which all could be true, or false. The movie opens, like many folk legends, with a storyteller before the throne of an imperious ruler, counting on his wits to protect his life. The storyteller is Nameless (Jet Li), who comes to the imperial court of the dreaded King of Qin (Chen Dao Ming). Qin dreams of uniting all of China's warring kingdoms under his rule; his plans to end war, the opening narration observes, "were soaked in the blood of his enemies." Three assassins have vowed to kill him: Broken Sword (Tony Leung), Flying Snow (Maggie Cheung) and Long Sky (Donnie Yen). Now comes Nameless to claim he has killed all three of them. He wishes to become the king's valued retainer, and collect a reward.

"Hero" is the most expensive film in Chinese history, a frank attempt to surpass Ang Lee's "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon," and the sets, costumes and special effects are of astonishing beauty. Consider a scene where Nameless and Long Sky fight to the death during a torrential rainstorm that pierces the ceiling of the room where they fight, while a blind musician plucks his harp in counterpoint; they pause sometimes to urge the musician to continue. At one point Nameless launches himself across the room in slow motion, through a cloud of suspended raindrops which scatter like jewels at his passage.

Consider another scene where Nameless and Broken Sword do battle while floating above the vast mirror of a lake, sometimes drawing patterns in the water with their blades; Zhang even seems to film them from below the surface of the water they're walking on. Or another scene that takes place in a rain of bright red leaves. Or another where an imperturbable master of calligraphy continues his instruction, and his students sit obediently around him, while a rain of arrows slices through the roof of their school. Never have more archers and more arrows been seen in a movie; although I knew special effects were being used, I was not particularly aware of them.

A film like "Hero" demonstrates how the martial arts genre transcends action and violence and moves into poetry, ballet and philosophy. It is violent only incidentally. What matters is not the manner of death, but the manner of dying: In a society that takes a Zen approach to swordplay and death, one might win by losing. There is an ancient martial arts strategy in which one lures the opponent closer to throw him off balance, and yields to his thrusts in order to mislead him. This strategy works with words as well as swords. One might even defeat an opponent by dying -- not in the act of killing him, but as a move in a larger game.

Summary by Roger Ebert

This is a stunningly gorgeous film that's worth seeing just for the visuals. In fact, it's one of the most beautiful films I've ever seen. It's an odd film, though, because it's a martial arts flick that doesn't exhilarate in its fight scenes. Don't get me wrong. The fight scenes are top notch, but there's no joy. Most martial arts flicks soar during their fight scenes, but they weren't actually important in this film. This is mostly because the story is told in flashback, and the story's urgency is in the mental duel between the king and Nameless instead of the action that has already occurred. This was a strange twist for the genre, but not as strange as its melancholic tone. Most of these flicks revel in the fighting and blood, but this one was sad about death. There was never a moment when someone rejoiced because they had beaten someone or urgency in the battles. Of course, we learn this is because all of the assassins sacrificed themselves for a complicated ruse, so the victor had reason to be saddened by his prearranged victory. The king also despaired about his victories. He dealt out carnage on a grand scale, but it was in the name of the greater good of the region. He wanted to unite the various Chinese kingdoms to create a single society that would end warfare amongst themselves. I was intrigued by this story and greatly enjoyed the conversation between the king and Nameless as the true plot came to light, but there was one major problem--there was no emotional connection created to any of the characters. I give the film all the credit in the world for trying to stand its genre on its ear and create something new. Since the tone was consistently melancholic, however, emotional depth was required. Without it, the tone didn't match the story, and I felt ambivalent toward the characters. I wasn't even sure if I wanted Nameless to succeed in his mission, and this muted the impact of his sacrifice.

I really liked the film's message that one person's pain is insignificant to the group's. The king's reason for uniting the kingdoms was difficult to accept, because it involved so much death and destruction, but you can't argue with the goal. You do, however, have to ask at what price it's acceptable. This is what Broken Sword presents to Nameless, and it's what he struggles with until the end. Again, if we had an emotional connection to any of the characters, his sacrifice would have been something we desired but regretted. Instead, it was just something that happened. Still, you can't argue with this film's beauty. Despite its shortcomings, I definitely recommend it. --Bill Alward, December 2, 2004