A handsomely helmed Chinese martial arts fantasy with the desire to fly that sadly succumbs to its own melodramatic tendencies, not as much flying too close to the sun as becoming weightless.
Taiwanese director Ang Lee is somewhat of a cinematic millipede. Nowadays we know him for the queer western drama Brokeback Mountain, or his more recent technical ventures such as the 3D fest Life of Pi. But his work tends to be best appreciated when his more technical tendencies align with the dramaturgy of the script, as is the case with his mandarin wuxia Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.
The narrative starts when an ancient sword is stolen by a mysterious thief. This 400 year old sword called ‘Green Destiny’ was entrusted by Li Mu Bai, played by Hong Kong action regular Chow Yun-fat, to Yu Shu Lien, played by the impeccable Michelle Yeoh. Their fates become intertwined with that of the daughter of a Manchurian governor (in a breakthrough role for Zhang Ziyi) and her hidden life of inner discord to conform to her society’s expectations. Lee follows these characters with an epic bravoure, with Peter Pau confidently lensing China’s various landscapes, as they fly from Beijing to the far west of the country, on top of bamboo trees and down to babbling brooks, before soaring off from the highest mountain top.
The story is powered by mystery and driven through action. The film’s action sequences are directed in a highly choreographed style that one can expect from a feature of this part of the world. But as with all action in films, action is character, and must do and further a character. Crouching Tiger uses its martial arts sequences to establish power dynamics and to create and resolve enigmas, adding an air of fantasy to the mix as characters leap from roof to roof much like the Jedi in Star Wars. And that is also where it missteps.
The first fight scene is very impressive, incredibly acted or ‘danced’ by its stars. But these fights, although accompanied by the serious tone of the narrative, become more weightless and frivolous throughout the film. Li Mu Bai at one point fights off a peloton of tiny arrows with one hand – I chuckled. There is a fight that starts on the roof of a forest, and ends with a character running on water – I yawned. Like Star Wars, and like the current trend of Marvel-films, the fighting becomes pointless when nothing seems to be at stake. All the flying around looks impressive, but it risks becoming an empty shell when no one (important to the plot) is allowed to fear death or dying. And then I feel forced to utter every parent’s annoyingly trite remark when I must conclude: I’m not mad. I’m disappointed.
And I’m definitely not mad. For if there is one thing that this movie does well, it’s simply that it stars the incredible force of nature that is Michelle Yeoh. Although her martial arts abilities are impressive – and they still are as showcased in 2022’s Everything Everywhere All at Once – they become almost redundant when compared to her mere presence on the screen. For me, Yeoh establishes herself in this film as an actor in the vein of Steve McQueen or maybe Tom Cruise, whose faces in close-up tower over you, and convey and evoke so much emotion with even the slightest squint of the eyes or twitch of the mouth. Whenever the dance of fly-fighting threatens to peter off into pure pointlessness, it is Yeoh who grounds the story, provides its mystery with credibility, and carries the whole film as a consequence, even though her role as a warrior woman struggling with the gender norms of her times near the end feels like the most poorly written. But boy, does she work for the role. To paraphrase William Friedkin (referring to McQueen), one close-up of Yeoh’s face is worth a thousand landscapes. I might have missed out on some of the poetry of this film, but never on the poetry of her acting.
3/5 stars