The thing about film spoilers is
that they generally garner one of two reactions: ambivalence or abhorrence (I suppose
a mix of the two is possible, as well).
Some people don’t mind knowing plot points ahead of time. They’re content with taking the trip, any
twists being non-essential to the overall experience, so they just sort of
shrug their shoulders if they know what’s around the next bend; it’s all
good. Others lose their minds if they
know as little as the color of a movie protagonist’s car (or if he/she/it has a
car), let alone the identity of Keyser Söze.
To them, a first-time viewing is an escapade, something where not
knowing what’s coming bolsters the exhilaration of it. I seem to fall somewhere in the middle (how
one manages to fall between the median and the extreme, I won’t analyze
today). Knowing the ending of, say, The Bridges of Madison County, wouldn’t
go far in ruining my watching of it (I haven’t seen the film,
incidentally). Yet, if a big twist were
revealed to me for something like Game of
Thrones, I would tend to get pretty upset.
I’m not too interested in getting
into the arguments of who’s culpable in spoiler prevention, because they
usually simply irritate me (as if a person should stay off the internet
entirely if they don’t want to know the outcome of a film [though, admittedly, one
should exercise some level of discretion in what they look at beforehand and
learn to manage their outrage if something is spoiled], or worse, should have
known about what was coming by being in on some pre-adaptation property we (but
very importantly, not they) knew nothing about however many decades ago [the irksome
attitude of the tiresome fanboy]). I’m
of the opinion espoused by the late, great Roger
Ebert, who said that the first time you watch a film, you should let it
wash over you. And that’s generally how
I look at spoilers. I want a film to
feel like a wave crashing over me; each one may hit with what feels like equal
force, but they’re all individual in a way (crucially, how they affect you),
like snowflakes. I respect that some
folks feel that it’s the journey that’s important, not the destination, and I
can respect that. But I would also
counter (perhaps snottily) that not all spoilers come at the end (read: the
destination). Plus, the destination is
still a part of the journey, by definition.
Nitpicking? You bet. It’s one of those subjects that can be hotly
debated for hours with little common ground found, because it’s all based on
personal preference, which is why I’m only giving you a rough idea of how I
approach the subject, not how I think you should approach it (and okay, maybe I
did argue for or against a stance a little bit more than its opposite). At any rate, I could list what happens in
every scene of Wong Ying’s Return of the Demon (aka Mo Ghao Yi Zhang) and not spoil a damned
thing about it. For better or worse.
Four treasure hunters
accidentally unleash a wizard/ghost/demon (Dick
Wei) who was entombed inside a statue of Buddha. The Monster (that’s how he’s named on IMDb)
has to collect souls in order to reincarnate himself. The adventurers are quickly joined by
sorcerer Kin (Charlie Cho) and his
young (very young in comparison) assistant Mak (Mai Te-Lo) in hunting down and destroying the evildoer.
This film owes a lot to the first
two Indiana Jones films. The characters
dress like they’re in a period piece (I’m guessing mid-to-late Nineteenth
Century, though nothing is ever specified that I could pick up on). The whole premise is a mixture of pulp
adventure with supernatural/fantasy elements.
It’s very violent (often gruesomely so).
It also has a sense of humor about it, and that’s putting it lightly. It’s these last two components that mark the
film as either bogglingly odd or distinctly Chinese, depending on your
perspective (and maybe both at once), because they are both amplified to
stratospheric levels and placed side by side with and/or on top of each other
with little to no transitions between them or regard for tonal consistency. It has scenes of spiked, metal “helmets”
being hammered onto characters’ heads. It
has characters drinking dog urine. It
has gory impalement. It has a
cross-eyed, newsboy-hat-wearing lock picker (Siu-Ming To). It has a heart
squirming with maggots. It has a
character switching bodies with a German shepherd in order to track the villain
(never mind that he then simply has canine habits while in human form
[including, but not limited to, peeing on trees] and may turn into a werewolf
at some point [which can happen, I guess]).
It’s unusual in how it flows tonally.
And by “unusual” I mean it in the sense that it doesn’t, really. We’re set up to follow the protagonists in
High Adventure fashion, but they’re treated like slapstick clowns, by and
large. Nevertheless, when actual violence
happens to them, it’s brutal and serious.
To an American viewer, this can be confusing and even offputting,
especially if it’s something to which you’re unaccustomed. Westerners may allow for comedy in their violent
films or violence in their comedy films, but typically, the one outweighs the
other (the genre/subgenre steering the proverbial ship). To have them both heightened to this degree,
though, certainly makes for unique viewing (or maybe just a different flavor
for those ensconced in Asian film aesthetics already).
With that in mind, this is the
sort of film for which the plot is little more than a skeleton on which the
filmmakers just want to hang gag sequences.
Now, I’m not versed in the work of Charlie
Cho, but I get the feeling this is kind of his shtick. And in fairness, it’s the same sort of setup
that goes back to some of the great comedies of Hollywood’s golden age. Think of Abbott
and Costello Meet the Mummy or Horse
Feathers, and you get the idea, more or less. However, the American films of this type
would attempt to tie these scenes into the plot a bit more than herein (not
always, but usually), and they understood the importance of brevity. Even the greatest joke in the universe will
get old if it goes on too long, and some of these scenes in Return of the Demon do their best to
stop the film dead in its tracks.
Consequently, the focus falls on the spectacle of the visual gymnastics
and the beating of some not-quite-dead horses.
Thus, a viewer’s enjoyment of this film will rely on their willingness
to go along with it, and those with a touch more patience will get a
proportional amount more out of the movie.
MVT: The exuberance on display
is infectious. Unfortunately, keeping
the energy jacked to the hilt the entire run time is also exhausting. You decide.
Make or Break: The egg
scene, featuring the extraordinarily captivating Emily Chu, is a feast of charm and absurdity (and like all feasts,
one can overstuff oneself). Pared down
and better woven into the narrative, it might have been a classic of onscreen
comedy, but as an overlong tangent to the film it’s actually in, it’s a flash
of brilliance rather than a roaring flame.
Score: 6/10
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