Hero

by Dan Jardine

In the late 70s and early 80s Dan Jardine completed a variety of undergraduate degrees in English, History and Political Science before moving on to become a teacher of English Literature. A writer whose primary online affiliation with Apollo Guide (www.apolloguide.com) has been a long and fruitful one, he has also recently added his name to the long list of online bloggers (djardine.blogspot.com).

We live in extraordinary times. Never has there been a freer flow of movies worldwide, as a global network of filmmakers has the ability to get his/her film seen in just about every corner of the world; conversely, filmmakers get to see just about everything that's happening around the world as well. Now, ignoring the irony of the fact that Miramax has had this wonderful film on a shelf for over a year, so only cinephiles who purposefully seek out the import Asian DVD will have had a change to see it, I'm wondering, after watching Hero, if director Yimou Zhang (known for his elegant and intensely personal dramas like Ju Dou, Not One Less, Raise the Red Lantern) has recently been enjoying the extravagant works of Bollywood. I ask because, while this stunning art house martial arts film certainly uses enough of the touchstones of the genre to pass muster as a "traditional" wu xia film, it also has a similar Bollywood-like elevated emotion with the requisite climactic romantic tragedy as well as a vivid sense of the use of colour to echo these heightened states, applied both generally, in the primary colour palette used to indicate shifts from one version of the story to another, and specifically, in the more arresting fight sequences-during a rain storm, or in an orchard being showered with petals. Further, the film's focus on the conflict of traditional values, represented by the King of Qin, with the more modern aesthetic, represented by the "selfish" agenda of the Nameless Assassin, sounds remarkably similar to the central concerns of many Bollywood epics as well. Either that, or it's some sorta Jungian collective unconscious thing, where we all have similar tales genetically encoded in us. Anyway and regardless, now that I've got that peculiar personal impression out of the way, let me move on to talk about what is on its own merits and Bollywood parallels notwithstanding, one helluva fine film.

Hero is both a rousing and thrilling epic that combines an examination of broad philosophical questions with a quietly intense psychological study of human relationships. Based on a mix of Chinese history and ancient legend, the film studies four figures, a King and the three assassins who seek his death. When the Nameless Assassin, played by Jet Li, is ushered into the King of Qin's presence and hailed as a hero because he bears proof that he has vanquished the King's greatest enemies, Li is asked to tell the tale of how he was able to achieve what thousands of the King's troops could not. As Li recounts his adventures, we are encouraged to wonder exactly how much he tells us is embellishment or even downright imaginary fantasy. Zhang applies his talents as a student of human psychology, as the combatants must find and exploit their opponent's mental or emotional weakness, while, in the end, the Nameless Assassin is uncovered not because the stories lack internal logic or appropriate detail, but because the King discerns that his stories lack psychological resonance.

This "all is not as it seems" school of storytelling has as its most famous cinematic progenitor Kurosawa's Rashomon. While the question of what is true or real teases us throughout the film as the stories of the assassins are told and re-told; each shares enough similarity to suggest that certain things appear to have happened, but they differ just enough to provoke confusion and uncertainty as to what those events really mean. Simply put, we accept that some things have happened, but we are not completely confident explaining exactly why, or what it might mean. The film mirrors like real life in that way. Plus, the whole role of the storyteller's reliability is a key part of the equation here. How much can we believe anything we are told, considering how full of uncertainty we must be about the motives of the person telling us the tale? While Hero tells us that Truth and Simplicity are the essence of swordplay and calligraphy, life proves more challenging and complex. Each variation of the tale is like another of the sheets that Broken Sword and the Emperor must battle through, adding to the layers of confusion, illusion and self-delusion. Finding truth proves difficult.

Zhang's use of space, sound, image, and movement is absolutely thrilling here. The film's exquisitely choreographed mano-a-mano battles are, oddly enough, reminiscent of a Gene Kelly or Fred Astaire musical, or, perhaps more accurately, a ballet with medieval weaponry. Zhang fills the sky with arrows whose lethal plague-of-locust descent is awful, in the full sense of the word, and which carries us into some Ran-like imagery in a calligraphy school, as an old master sits at his chair, with dozens of deathly quills whizzing past his head, telling his students that while the soldiers may take their lives, they cannot take their culture. Christopher Doyle's exquisite cinematography throughout expresses extraordinary cinematic joy expressed in every frame; this is how to use the technology to engage an audience's gut AND noggin. And it isn't just the martial arts showdowns or the epic set pieces that evoke wonder. Some of the quieter, intimate shots, such as those of the Assassin and Emperor sitting and talking in the castle while separated by a bank of wind-blown candles are real stunners.

Of the key actors, Jet Li, whose muted manner seems appropriate for his character, and appears tailored on the stoic Man With No Name figures in Sergio Leone/Clint Eastwood westerns of the 60s, is well-supported by his fellow assassins, including the great Tony Leung, who remains one of filmdom's best droop-eyed leads , and Maggie Cheung, one of movie's most effective ice princesses. That these two work so beautifully together is hardly surprising: they are our Hepburn and Tracy, offering an Asian twist on the running battle of the sexes.

While Hero is surprisingly audience-friendly, it is, like Wong Kar-Wai's arthouse wu xia film Ashes of Time, a narratively-challenging legend imbued with visual swagger and philosophical sophistication. Just as the characters discuss how certain skills-music, chess, calligraphy, sword fighting-require a similar sort of mental and physical acuity, so too is Zhang suggesting an implicit, underlying connection of all things under heaven. This is a story of sacrifice-whether for love or for the common good-which makes me wonder if it is bound to be poo-poo'd by a broader audience in this age of self-indulgent entitlement. Modern viewers may wonder if the individual is obliterated for a cause greater than himself, is this a supreme sacrifice, or the ultimate in futility? To properly and thoroughly discuss the Zen-like paradoxes that accompany the emperor's epiphanies requires that I spoil the hell out of the film's ending, so I'll simply leave that question where it currently lies. To determine if the film justifies the slaughter of innocents under the banner of "All Under Heaven," you'll hafta see the film for yerself.