名劍 The Sword (1980)
Director: 譚家明 Patrick Tam Kar Ming
Li Mak-yin is a swordsman who has wandered for a number of years searching for the reclusive master swordsman Hua. After encountering two fellow swordsmen, Li comes across his old love, who tells him that not only has their town fallen on hard times (the temple is in ruins) but, worst of all, in the time he has been away she has moved on and married another man. Turns out, her husband is quite evil, of course, and just a little bit insanely jealous as well as very interested in swords, particularly those belonging to masters. The husband sends his henchman to kill Li, but Li escapes.
Country: Hong Kong
Language: Cantonese
Genre: Wuxia
Runtime: 85 minutes
Format: 35mm
Aspect Ratio: 2.35:1
The start of the Hong Kong New Wave in the late 70s and early 80s marked an important milestone for Hong Kong cinema, producing dozens of new and impressive films and inspiring even more filmmakers which then brought on a second new wave and classics most of us grew up with. An interesting aspect of the first new wave was that they did not entirely discard genre films but instead brought about a more modern approach to making a traditional genre piece. And one of the more popular genre in Hong Kong Cinema would probably be the wuxia films, which also happens to be my personal favourite. But being steeped in tradition and made in abundance by the prominent Shaw Brothers Studio, the quality of wuxia films have dropped in quality towards the late 70s as the studio focused more on churning out huge quantities of films. By then, the genre had seen better days, with its heyday in the 60s and early 70s in the hands of directors like King Hu, Chang Cheh and Chor Yuen. The tropes and cliches were played out to the point where they were predictable and even boring, so when these new wave directors attempted this genre as their debut features and injected it with new life, the products were refreshing and signified a new direction for the wuxia genre.
Tsui Hark gave us the wuxia-whodunit The Butterfly Murders (1979), Johnnie To made a noir mystery wuxia film with The Enigmatic Case (1980), John Woo directed Last Hurrah for Chivalry (1979) which acted as a precursor to his later heroic bloodshed films, and Patrick Tam brought us a nihilistic wuxia classic - The Sword (1980). Among them, the most surprising one would probably be Tam’s take on the wuxia genre, not only because of his innovative editing and the superb choreography, but also Tam’s intricate understanding of the genre and of the human nature, which is shown skilfully in this film. Of these 4 films, Tam’s film feels the most complete and the least like a debut feature. However, that does not mean it is devoid of flaws.
Let’s talk a bit about the film’s shortcomings first, especially the starting of the film which feels too rushed. Adam Cheng’s Li Mak-yin meets Jade Hsu’s Fa Ying-chi early in the film and they start off as frenemies, but in less than 10 minutes of screen time they develop a romantic subplot despite only meeting twice and having no significant event happening besides sharing shelter and food. When they first meet, Fa is portrayed as this hot-tempered and stubborn girl who despises Li’s cocky attitude, and she even slaps him for it. But after they are caught in the rain and forced to share shelter and he shares his food and wine with her, she suddenly becomes very friendly and even interested in him. This sudden romantic development feels forced and seems to only exist for the sake of the plot, which will probably throw most people off. Luckily, that is the only shortcoming that is more disappointing, and the better parts of the film overpower the weaker moments, so this starting part would likely be the lowest of the film.
What makes The Sword so significant in the development of the genre is its innovative choreography and its philosophical approach towards the hero character in the genre. Choreographed by Tang Tak-cheung and Tony Ching Siu-tung, The Sword is full of creatively choreographed sequences featuring wireworks (that insane last fight which is still as impactful today) and fast-paced editing that focus more on conveying emotions and creating atmosphere than on the continuity of the action. A couple of fight sequences also take place in the dark, with minimal lights and the characters are mostly shrouded in darkness, making it difficult to see every move made by the characters. And for this film, that is a huge advantage. This deliberate lack of continuity and clarity creates a sense of speed and energy in the fights that make each strike seem even faster and more dangerous, as compared to the traditional style of long wide shots that showcase the action slower and with more clarity. This style of editing action has also influenced later directors, most notably Wong Kar Wai (who happens to be mentored by Tam) in his 1994 wuxia epic Ashes of Time, where the lack of clarity and continuity is pushed even further. The beautiful use of wirework would also go on to be a huge visual aesthetic of future wuxia films, especially so when choreographed by Ching.
But perhaps what is most impressive about Tam’s debut, is his take on the traditional hero character in the genre. While most wuxia films have a righteous protagonist that is willing to risk his or her life to stand up against evil and injustice, The Sword differs from other films by having a selfish protagonist who only thinks about himself and his own gains. Li’s initial goal from the start of the film is to challenge the number 1 swordsman, Fa Chin-shu, and everything he does is to get closer to that goal, including lying to the girl that likes him just so that he can find her father. In the end, his actions bring about the deaths of the people around him and when he finally does achieve his goal and defeats Fa, there is no sense of satisfaction or happiness. Instead, he is filled with emptiness and sadness. This is where Tam excels. He is able to translate these emotions into visual language and make the audience feel that through his choice of shots. The moments after Li’s fight with Fa, we see a dolly shot from behind Li where the camera tracks around to see his expression, which is not a happy one. Then there is a shot where Li lifts his sword up to look at it, and Tam cuts from that to a wide shot of Li in silhouette, the sun setting in the distance, and Li looks up to the sky. That moment, without any words, marks Li’s epiphany that victory means absolutely nothing, his fixation with winning and losing is ultimately an empty one.
And when he realises that his actions have led to the death of so many people around him, the film ends with Li on the edge of a cliff, throwing his sword off. Li’s growth from an obsession with fame and glory to a realisation of the meaningless of it results in him throwing away the symbol of this fruitless struggle, which is a criticism by Tam on society’s emphasis on grades and material success. Despite the film’s pessimistic approach and bleak outlook, Tam remains hopeful of the future, as can be seen in the protagonist’s name, 李慕然, which comes from the Chinese idiom 暮然回首, directly translating to “suddenly looking back” or also meaning to reflect and achieve enlightenment. By naming the protagonist after this idiom, Tam retains hope for society. Stripping away its stylistic and well-choreographed action sequences, The Sword is still an intriguing study on our obsession with success and lack of regard for the consequences, giving it a modern take on a traditional genre.
★★★★½ (4.5 stars out of 5)
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