This is an earlier Chang Cheh film, and therefore much longer, and more gradual in its pace, than his later work. It is more similar in its direction to Boxer from Shantung than, say, Crippled Masters, or Cheh’s well-known kung fu mystery Five Deadly Venoms. As a western aficianado of the genre, I would even hesitate to label it a “kung fu” film, in the purest sense of the term; a better description would be “heroic epic.”
In fact, while watching this film, I found myself thinking of Gladiator. This is probably because, like the contemporary alternate history film, Assassin focuses on a single, tragic hero amidst sweeping political events. What makes this hero outstanding are both his martial skills, and a strong sense of integrity that never wavers. Around him, people are suffering the rule of a stagnant empire, and there is a general sense of urgency for change.
Here, however, the similarities between the two films must end. In Gladiator, the hero embraces his role with reluctance, whereas the hero of The Assassin - played by Jimmy Wang Yu of One-armed Swordsman - is all but desperate for a worthy cause to claim his sword, and if necessary, his life. “Why do you study the sword?” his lover asks him, as they lie together in a moonlit glade. “Because I want to be ready,” he says, and the rest of the answer is clear: “for destiny.”
It is interesting to note that, within this film, there are two kinds of destiny at work. On the one hand, the film is called The Assassin; the central character is a skilled swordsman; and something political is brewing. Obviously, these three facts put together equal “final showdown in a bloodbath.”
There is, however, yet another force at work here, and that is history. The Assassin is based upon an historical figure, Nieh Chen, who lived during the time of the Six Kingdoms, nearly 2300 years ago. At this time, Chen in fact committed the death-dealing deed the film works up to, and is well-remembered for it. According to the production notes in the extras of the Celestial DVD edition (more later about this sublime disc!), Chang Cheh found Chen’s story ideal for an heroic epic in the tradition of the genre.
Nieh Chen is thus a respected historical figure - at least, amongst Hong Kong film-makers he was! - and this shows in the narrative pacing of The Assassin. It is the main character that drives the film, and not the plot, nor the fight scenes, which in fact, are few and far between. Though the film’s outcome is inevitable, it takes its time describing Chen’s character, from his origins as a skilled swordsman, to the model respect he has for his family, putting their needs first in all situations.
This last point is especially noteworthy, because it draws out this wait for the inevitable. For though Chen is driven to apply himself in a heroic endeavor, he is unwilling to commit any action that his mother does not approve of. This is firmly established in a few key scenes, and is a remarkable change from the usual kill-the-loved-ones/path-of-revenge motif. Chen’s family is not just a secondary set of characters, but an integral part of who he his, and the decisions he makes.
So important is Chen’s commitment to his family, that he is willing to sacrifice his greatest dreams for them. By day, he works as a butcher, making the money that they all subsist on. By night, he feels his potential seeping away, untapped, unasked for. Even when destiny does come calling, he can only refuse to answer, so long as his mother is still alive, and his sister unmarried. “Wait,” he tells the man who comes seeking his sword, and his blood. The strain on his face is visible. “Wait, and I will find you when it is time.”
Time does indeed pass, and when Chen shows up at the man’s door years later, he is bristling with intent. He carries the sword that his teacher gave him, his skills untouched by time or sloth. His eyes burn, as if they will rip his mission directly from the skull of the man who has called upon him. He has fulfilled his commitment to his family, and waits now only for someone to point him in the right direction: for the life that lies at the other end, there can be no hope.
Before fulfilling this mission, however, the hero must go through a few more trials, including various forms of temptation that threaten to veer him from his chosen path. He is given rich food and clothes, wine and women; they do not hold him. He grasps at a single chance to return to his first love, and is torn between long-term happiness, and glorious destiny. But there really is no choice to consider; otherwise he would avoiding a truth that he has known his entire life.
Finally, The Assassin brings the hero to his journey’s end, and the final battle that must be this end. Chen wields his sword against literally hundreds of men, fighting his way to the one man he must kill. At every pause in the bloody battle, he strikes the same pose: back straight, arms outstretched, sword extending to the side. There is no skulking, no defensive posturing. He is alive, vital, flush with the immediacy of the moment, and he opens his arms to all comers. Here I am: see if you can stop me.
It is a grand ending, and though not as bloody or brutal as the final scene in Boxer from Shantung, admirers of Chang Cheh’s work will immediately see the parallels. Likewise, the very last scene closes the film on a tragic note, the details of which I will refrain from divulging. Better to see it without foreknowledge.
This is a passionate film, made by people who respected the subject matter, and it shows. The Assassin is not a kung fu movie that you watch for funny hijinks or frantic fights that occur for whatever reason. It is a prime example of the historical, romantic, heroic epic, and further proof of Chang Cheh’s genius as a director. This is not a kung fu film that you watch for the fights, but for all that it has to offer in the way of character. And in this aspect, The Assassin excels.
Only two more points beg mentioning, and the foremost is due credit for Celestial’s masterful cut of this film. The picture is vibrant, and presented in wide screen. It is also in the original Chinese, with worthy English subtitles, which can be shocking after watching so many dubbed editions of the genre. The sound is decent, though music is noticeably louder than dialogue. But the best aspect of this DVD are the extras. These include a featurette about Chang Cheh, with English subtitles, and a goody-bag of production notes, also translated for English viewers. Now, not only can you enjoy a Shaw Brothers classic in all of its beauty, you can learn about it, and the genre! For passionate fans, this is a key to a small piece of heaven.
The other point is minor in comparison, but worth bringing up for the sake of humor. In the opening scene of the film, and in many later scenes, astute viewers may notice that they recognize the theme music. This is because the music is a direct copy of the theme from You Only Live Twice, the James Bond film that was released the same year The Assassin was made! And when I say direct copy, I mean it’s the exact same track! It can be distracting too, because at times, I recalled the words sung by Nancy Sinatra. Strangely enough, they are very appropriate:
You only live twice,
or so it seems . . .
one life for yourself,
and one for your dreams.
A strange meeting of Western and Eastern media, to be sure. But then, that’s how it is for all Western adherents of this incredible genre.
