Commercial cinema — post-Lucas, post-"Matrix," post-"Lord of the Rings" — is at a crossroads where the movies' entertainment value remains subject to technological innovations and the fleeting trends of a mercurial industry. Quality suffers, commerce reigns and we're too busy wading through dialectic reservoirs to remember what turned us on in the first place.
Keeping this disparity in perspective, the genre-bending "Kung Fu Hustle" poses questions about film culture that cannot be suitably addressed here, questions regarding CGI's ascendancy, niche audiences, the marketing of foreign films and the limitations of filmic self-referencing.
Never mind that, though — within the first few moments of star/director Stephen Chow's spoofy martial arts spectacle, such concerns will vanish from overly hypothesizing minds.
After a bravura introduction — a police station "interrogation" turned on its ear — Chow presents the vicious Axe Gang, a shocking bit of violence and an uncanny command of color and movement, all before staging a perverse mini-musical that recalls "West Side Story."
Plunging (literally) into this meta-universe — recognizable from a thousand movies but miraculously appearing new, uninhibited — one fact is clear: whichever way you slice it, this is kick-ass entertainment.
Already phenomenally successful and revered in his native China, Chow has concocted an indelible pop fantasia that implodes with high-wire set pieces, bewildering fight choreography and — pardon the overstatement — some of the most absurd slapstick ever to grace the screen.
Inexplicably set in 1940s Canton, China, the threadbare story helps the proceedings without hindering the satirical impact. Upon arriving in Pig Sty Alley — a multi-leveled slum governed by a tyrannical landlady (a show-stopping Qiu Yuen) — a drifter named Sing (Chow) attempts to infiltrate the Axe Gang only to unwittingly become the slum's messianic savior from the axe-wielding outlaws.
Is it terribly original? Of course not. Derivative? Very much so. But realization counts, and as physics and narrative logic give way to an astounding visual sense, Chow gracefully subverts a variety of Eastern and Western conventions (from Buddhism to spaghetti westerns), unleashing a multitude of jaw-dropping, hilarious sequences, all rife with knowing homage. (The most conspicuous reference? A bizarre restaging of the infamous elevator corridor from "The Shining.")
Most refreshing of all is the CGI work that animates Sing and Pig Sty's ragtag denizens, infusing their chopsocky technique with madcap, cartoonish buoyancy. Chow uses his digital brush like a latter-day Tex Avery, mining every moment, facial tic and karate blow for its maximum comedic potential.
In the sullen wake of "Sin City's" dazzling yet pitiless stylization, "Hustle's" authentic, unabashed compassion for its source material is invigorating. You might even feel guilty for once enthusing over "Kill Bill."
Given Miramax's botched release of "Shaolin Soccer" last year, hopefully Chow feels vindicated by his late-breaking triumph in North America. If there's any justice in Hollywood's tottering, profit-driven marketplace, the Shanghai superstar will attain the transpacific crossover that's eluded him lo these many years.
Grade: A
This article appeared in The Marquette Tribune on April 28 2005.