Director Yimou Zhang’s follow-up to HERO (2002) is another high-class, artsy interpretation of the martial arts genre. Like its predecessor (and like CROUCHING TIGER, HIDDEN DRAGON), HOUSE OF FLYING DAGGERS takes ideas and elements seen in dozens of Hong Kong, Cantonese-language movies and synthesizes them into an elegant, beautiful piece of film-making. The studied, artistic affectations may prevent this Mandarin-language art house effort from being as kinetically potent as the films it emulates, but it more than compensates by offering up deeply felt emotions played out on a grand scale more than adequate to match the flashy visuals.
Near the end of the Tang Dynasty, with the Chinese Emperor weak and corrupt, a secret society known as the House of Flying Daggers gains popular support because it steals from the rich and gives to the poor. After arresting one of their agents (Mei, played by Ziyi Zhang), the head of the local police (Leo, played by Andy Lau) conceives plan to use her to track down the elusive group: he assigns his deputy Jin (Takeshi Kaneshiro) to go undercover and break Mei out of prison, in the hope that she will show her gratitude leading him to the House of Flying Daggers. To make the escape more convincing, soldiers attack the fleeing couple at various points—some of them unaware that Jin is a police officer. Forced to fight side by side to save their lives, Jin and Mei soon find a bond growing between them that gradually turns into love. Unfortunately, it’s a love that can end only in tragedy….
The main difference between HOUSE OF FLYING DAGGERS and the Hong Kong films it emulates is that Zhang is working in the traditional of Mainland Chinese films, shot in Mandarin. His work is more self-conscious and serious than that of the Hong Kong powerhouse producer Tsui Hark. Whereas Hark productions like THE SWORDSMAN trilogy and A CHINESE GHOST STORY are clearly intended as popular entertainments, filled with humor and outrageous antics, HOUSE OF FLYING DAGGERS is operatic in tone. It’s no accident that Zhang chose Kathleen Battle to sing the theme song over the closing credits: the numerous fight sequences are like show-stopping arias or musical dance numbers. The narrative momentum may slow to a halt, but that doesn’t matter because the point of the narrative is to link these scenes together. And, like a good aria, the martial arts set pieces are not merely virtuoso displays of technique; they are emotional epiphanies that dramatize the love story as the film’s lovers risk (and ultimately sacrifice) their lives for each other.
Unlike HERO, the plot of HOUSE OF FLYING DAGGERS is much more linear and straightforward; although there are several twists and surprises that prevent the film from being completely predictable, it is essential a simple story about two characters thrust together by circumstances, who fall in love, at great personal consequence to themselves. This simplicity of story belies the film’s underlying ambition. Zhang not only wants to sweep you up in melodrama; he also wants you to feel the emotions are genuine and convincing, not simply over-the-top movie manipulation.
If HOUSE OF FLYING DAGGERS is inferior to HERO in any way, it is that HERO projected a greater sense of exploring a profound theme in an ambitious way, both narratively and stylistically. With its flashback structure showing conflicting versions of past events, each keyed to a different color scheme, HERO was even more of a lush feast for the eyes, as well as a “message” movie about the importance of personal sacrifice for the greater good.
Without this bold experiment in color, HOUSE OF FLYING DAGGERS is still a beautiful film, but not quite as eye-catching as its predecessor. Without the thematic ambition, the story is almost a trifle, elevating a love triangle to the forefront of a historical situation that had consequences for the lives of hundreds, thousands, even millions of people.
Ironically, however, HOUSE ultimately benefits from its slightly lower ambitions. Unburdened with a complex narrative, Zhang Yimou tells his simple story for maximum impact, tugging at the heartstrings like a virtuoso violinist. With wonderful acting from his three leads (whose vocal tones and facial expressions transcend language almost without the benefit of dubbing), the director has taken a story that could have been nothing more than a simple but effective tear-jerker and elevated it into a TITANIC-sized tragedy. Many tears are shed; not all, or even the majority of them, on screen.
HOUSE OF FLYING DAGGERS (a.k.a. Ambush from All sides, 2004). Directed by Yimou Zhang. Written by Feng Li, Bin Wang, Yimou Zhang. Cast: Takeshi Kaneshiro, Andy Lau, Ziyi Zhang.
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