As God is my witness, it had
nothing to do with Ed Kowalczyk. The
erstwhile singer for Live used to have a largely shaved head with a long,
braided ponytail. This was something I
wanted to do with my hair. This was also
back when I was initially going bald and fought tooth and nail against this by
growing what hair I had long (I’m slightly ashamed to say that, yes, Virginia,
there was a skullet). I wanted to just
have a small patch of hair growing from the back of my head and a wicked long
tail forming from it. The difference
between Mr. Kowalczyk and myself (I assume) is that I was inspired by a
lifelong love of martial arts films. It
was to the point that I actually wanted to dye this thing white like the great,
old, cinematic Kung Fu masters of old (the better to toss over my shoulder and
cackle malevolently). Thing is, not only
was I going bald (something I swiftly learned to accept and let go of fairly
gracefully), but what hair I had was insanely curly, so, no matter what length
I grew my tresses out to, they wound up being about down to my shoulder once
the follicles dried after a shower. This
was in no way like my idiotic attempt to mimic Kurt Harland of Information
Society’s locks (a tale I told in a previous review; track it down, if you
dare). This was more like…I hesitate to
use the word “serendipity.” More like
dumb luck or shitty coincidence. Either
way, every single time I watch a film like Ringo Lam’s Burning Paradise (aka Huo
Shao Hong Lian Si aka Destruction of
the Red Lotus Temple aka Rape of the
Red Temple), I’m reminded of this ignoble chapter of my life. Thank Christ, I went completely bald before I
was able to get this thing off the ground (but, sadly, before bald was
considered sexy).
Burning Paradise is yet another in the long list of films about the
legendary Wuxia hero Fong Sai Yuk (here played by Willie Chi). He and his Shaolin brothers oppose the
vicious Manchus, and, while escaping from their clutches, he and his elder
Chi-Nun (Kuei Li) meet the lovely Tou-Tou (Carman Lee). Needless to say, the Manchus clutches are, in
fact, inescapable, and our protagonists find themselves prisoners of the reptilian
Lord Kung (Kam-Kong Wong), warden of the Red Lotus Temple. Much martial arts mayhem ensues.
I am in no way an expert on the
character of Fong Sai Yuk, and, frankly, I simply don’t have the time to
correct this. I do know that he is an
extremely popular character (I’m still confused whether or not he was an actual
person, but that’s neither here nor there when discussing films like this one). The picture’s scenario is one we’ve seen many
times before. Fong is young, highly
skilled, and a staunch opponent of a totalitarian government. This is nothing new in the Wuxia genre. Truly, a great many movies from a great many
countries center on this type of struggle.
The two cinematic genres that best capture this conflict, to my mind,
are martial arts films and science fiction films. This is because it is more palatable to a
mass audience to augment the totalitarianism on display to encompass wild
flights of fantasy. It entertains while
making a point, one that needs no true reinforcement since most people empathize,
on some level, with the notion that their own government is not on their side. Or worse, they are apathetic to the common
folks’ plight (as people love to wryly exclaim, it can never happen here,
right?). What Lam and company do with
this movie, and this is something that one could argue that the vast majority
of martial arts films do, is play with elements of the western. It is set in the desert. The house at the beginning of the film is
straight out of the American Southwest (I kept thinking of Stagecoach and The Wild Bunch
whenever it was on screen). The
characters are more hands-on versions of gunfighters, their skills being continually
challenged until a final duel settles all scores. The heroes come into a situation where they
are required to free a “town” (okay, here a prison full of Shaolin devotees)
from a gang of “outlaws” (here an entire government; the major difference
between the two genres being this dichotomy).
The heroes are attempting to civilize a savage land (here through their
Shaolin beliefs and practices). The
dynamics are essentially the same despite the divergences in the details. I would argue that Lam understood this
connection, because he not only embraces it but also borrows (as just about
every filmmaker in existence has, consciously or unconsciously; just ask Orson
Welles) from the visual vocabulary of John Ford. Burning
Paradise is littered with frames within frames, and there is even a direct
reference to Ford’s famous doorway shot from The Searchers. This, layered
on top of some classic Hong Kong action stylings helps push this film into the
top tier of the genre, in my opinion.
The film also centers heavily on
the idea of passions. Fong is passionate
about his fight against the Manchus. He
is passionate about how he finds his Shaolin brother Hong (Yamson Domingo) in
the temple prison. He is passionate
about Tou-Tou, and not just physically.
Similarly, characters like Boroke (Chun Lam), Kung’s right hand, have
passions outside the martial world. She
craves the touch of a man, allowing her feelings to sway her professional
decisions. Tou-Tou is a former brothel
worker, a place where passion is rented, yet she cares enough about Fong to
sacrifice her freedom for him. The
setting for the film is a metaphor for Hell, its inhabitants working constantly
at blazing forges, shaping weapons for their enemies to use against the
prisoners’ friends and families. Perhaps
the most significant symbol of passion is the villain Kung. In public, he is aloof, can’t be bothered
with these gnats that pester him so. In
private is another matter. When he goes
to Tou-Tou for the first time, he wants her to resist, to fight back, to give
him some sense that he’s still alive.
His bigger passion, however, is art.
He paints throughout the film, dark, ominous images, reflective of his
soul. He even incorporates art into his
Kung Fu style, using paper like flying daggers and paint droplets like bullets.
Burning Paradise is as kinetic, inventive, and awe-inspiring as any
Hong Kong action film I can think of (perhaps even moreso than many). Lam marries the darker elements (and there
are some pretty dark elements in this thing) with fast-moving action with bouts
of gore with some great humor beats (that are refreshingly un-cringeworthy and
mesh nicely into the rhythm). It does
all of this while giving its characters some depth and compelling us to want to
follow the villains as much as the heroes.
MVT: Lam’s near-flawless
union of the variegated components.
Make or Break: The bedroom
scene between Kung and Tou-Tou is simultaneously scary, insightful, and
melancholy.
Score: 8/10