Men From The Gutter (1983)

Pre-digital Hong Kong genre cinema holds a great fascination for me, not so much for the technical achievements, the jaw-dropping stuntwork, or the bonkers ideas they throw around, but for the ambience of their visuals.  They can look beautifully garish as in many of the set bound Shaw Bros martial arts films or dirt-lickingly grotty as in some of the sleazier Category III films.  They even manage to mix the two from time to time.  The way Hong Kong is often portrayed is as alternately glamorous as it is dangerous.  Decked out nightclubs with gorgeous women and men in white suits are a staple.  Conversely, blown out ratholes where people in jeans and cheap tee shirts are forced to live provide the flip side.  

It’s not so much that this dichotomy exists, it’s that these films give the impression that these two strata of society exist essentially on top of one another.  There is the distinct sense that if a character opened the wrong door in a discotheque, they’d be met with a sweaty, stabby, rapey nightmare to set the old spine a-tingling.  It’s as if everyone is trapped within the city, like a real-life Escape from New York, and some denizens have merely managed to crawl to the top and accumulate wealth which only further buffers them from the dregs beneath them (or so they hope).  

Now, I’m no expert on Hong Kong films, and I’ll admit I haven’t seen nearly as many as others have, but the one thing which partly defines a lot of them from my perspective (particularly in the Crime arena) is this idea of the callous villainy of the wealthy versus the desperate ambition of the poor.  This is reinforced for me through the texture of the visuals.  The more realistic Hong Kong films have a certain grainy, desaturated look, and the worlds created are often filled with box-strewn warehouses, cluttered streets, and clogged up piers.  I can’t say how close to reality any of this is (and that’s really not the point anyway), but from films like Lam Nai-Choi’s Men from the Gutter (aka An Qu), I would suggest that my theories only gather more support. 

In his lousy tenement apartment, Wang (Parkman Wong Pak-Man) climbs out of bed in the middle of the night, crushes the cockroaches scuttling on his lunch, and ventures out to meet his ex-con pals Long (Lung Tin-Sang) and Brainless (Billy Lau Nam-Kwong) to discuss their big plan to get rich.  But the police are onto Wang, and an officer is killed while trying to apprehend him, sending Sgt. Zhao (Venom Clan alumnus Lo Meng) into a frenzy.  Meanwhile, fellow policeman Qiu (Michael Miu Kiu-Wai) is investigating the murder of Zeng Cai (Lee Hoi-Sang), bodyguard of criminal kingpin Xu Wen (Wong Yung), by Zi Jian (Jason Pai Piao) and their ties to each other.  Complicated stuff.

Perhaps the oddest thing about Men from the Gutter is that it is, on its surface, two separate crime stories the only linkage between which is the police officers.  Nonetheless, I would offer up that Lam and company are treating the Crime genre in a metaphorical way (while still delivering a cracking good Action film) and attempting to look at more than one side of the lower echelons of society in relation to crime.  Zi Jian’s motivations are revenge and honor.  He has no real avaricious goals in mind.  Wang’s motivation is one hundred percent monetary.  He gets very upset every time he thinks about all that  he doesn’t have.  He believes that money will solve all his problems.  As the title suggests, then, Zi Jian is coming out of the gutter to get at Xu Wen, to drag him back down into the gutter.  Wang is in the gutter struggling to get out by any means necessary.  Zhao and Qiu are the forces of order, standing in the gutter up to their waists, trying to maintain control while not going under.  In the gutter, a person has to do what’s necessary, but there is always the element of choice, and the end goal (personified by a freighter and its captain) is not guaranteed.  From this viewpoint, the film begins to take focus as more than the sum of its parts, even though it may not appear obvious at first glance.

The film is also loaded with images of characters watching and being watched, predominantly in the narrative of Zi Jian and Xu Wen.  Photos are taken of Xu Wen at a restaurant with Zi Jian in the background.  After being questioned by Qiu, Xu Wen looks at himself in a mirror while crime scene photographers snap pictures.  Zi Jian is shown making love to a prostitute in the reflection from his eyeglass lenses.  Later, he takes a slingshot and a metal ball and shoots the image of himself in his hotel mirror.  He checks his teeth in reflections in a store front window as well as in a fitness club mirror.  Point of view shots play into this as well.  At the gym, Zi Jian sneaks up on an unsuspecting guy (in POV) and knocks him out for his clothes.  Later, there is a POV shot following Zi Jian (and in which he again checks himself out in a mirror).  If these are just stylistic affectations or character quirks, they are lingered on longer and are more numerous than one might expect.  I tend to think that the reflections are how the characters remove themselves from their world.  By engaging with a mirror, staring into oneself, they are disengaging from reality and fortifying themselves for what lies ahead.  Similarly, POV shots like those herein tend to disengage the viewer from the film’s reality (we don’t share what’s in the minds of the characters through whose eyes we see), targeting where they’re headed rather than what surrounds them in the moment.  The characters are watchers and watched, within and without themselves, and a similar affinity is reached with the film’s viewer through these visual choices of the filmmakers.   

Men from the Gutter is surprisingly non-exploitative, as well.  Aside from one shot and a scene with some bare breasts, there’s no sex (consensual or non-consensual).  There is a decent amount of violence and blood, but not nearly to the levels of gore showcased in some of the Shaw Bros both at this point in time and in the past.  Outside of the film’s outstandingly heightened climactic sequence, the film is rooted firmly in reality.  That said, the final set piece does contain acrobatics and nigh-superheroic levels of stamina.  It also has a huge (and I mean that both literally and figuratively) concluding moment that will truly make your jaw drop.  But the film never goes off the rails, and it does a very admirable job of balancing its elements.  If you’re an Action film fan, and you haven’t seen this film, you need to (it’s available with subtitles on Youtube).

MVT:  I love the character of Zi Jian, especially as brought to life by Jason Pai Piao.  He’s odd and colorful, clearly dangerous, but also with a noble air about him.

Make or Break:  The heist scene is marvelously orchestrated.  It’s complex, gritty, and clearly blocked and edited.  I think that, in some ways at least, it encompasses all of the emotional heart of the film as well as the thematic points.

Score:  7/10   

Soul Brothers of Kung Fu (1977)

a.k.a. The Last Strike, Kung Fu Avengers

Director: Yi-Jung Hua (as I Hung Hwa)
Writer: Chan Wei Lin
Cast: Ho Chung Tao (Bruce Li), Feng Ku, Meng Lo, Carl Scott, Siu Yam-yam (Yum-yum Shaw), Au-Yeung Pooi San, Hoi San, Peter Chan, Alexander Grand, Yuen Biao

Following a recent viewing of the PBS documentary The Black Kung Fu Experience, I resolved to include more of the early cinematic contributions of African-American martial artists in my film viewing for 2014. (After all, why set goals for self-improvement in personal finance and health when I can set completely arbitrary media consumption benchmarks?) While Jim Kelly is probably the most famous and Ron Van Clief the most prolific of these pioneering actors, Carl Scott repeatedly emerged as the guy most overlooked and underappreciated. When I saw that RZA had name-dropped him in an interview with Film Comment as number one and the best, it all but cemented my urge to see his films -- all three of them! (I can’t, in good conscience, count Bruce Lee: The Man, the Myth, where he appears as an extra).

Like any group of young urban professionals, the trio of Wong Wei Lung (Li), Shao-san (Meng), and Chai Yun (Au-Yeung Pooi San) work a variety of crummy jobs to pay for their Hong Kong apartment. However, as hard-working immigrants from the mainland, they’re willing to do just about anything in order to live out their dream to live beyond their means. Wong Wei Lung and Shao-sen are doing menial labor down at the docks one day when they come upon a fellow dock worker, Tom (Scott) getting beat up by several of his bosses and colleagues for spilling paint while also being a young, black male. In rushing to his defense, the roommates catch the ire of a cruel boss named Mr. Chien (Feng), a man involved in absolutely every business in Hong Kong, legit or not.

All three of the men lose their jobs, but eventually get new, shittier ones. They lose those too. While Shao-san ceases all productivity and falls into a gambling addiction, Wei Lung participates in organized fights to make ends meet. During a conversation with Chai Yun about the next day’s huge championship match, he announces his intention to marry her if he wins, and wait a minute, it’s her birthday tomorrow, so they’ll just get engaged during her party because apparently they’ve been banging on the side this whole time. We see glimpses that Shao-san harbors a secret jealousy about their relationship, but all that sexual tension never really goes anywhere and he gets sidetracked by his involvement with a mysterious bar-girl (Shaw). I held out hope that this arrangement would explore the complex spectrum of human sexuality in the same vein as the 1994 romantic comedy, Threesome, but the filmmakers played things safe.

Throughout it all, Wei Lung and Shao-san train Tom in kung fu so he can better defend himself against angry shipping supervisors and asshole Triads. Meanwhile, Mr. Chien assembles his own trio of bad, nameless motherfuckers, respectively portrayed by Alexander Grand (Sideburns), Lee Hoi-Sang (Jug-Smasher), and Peter Chan Lung (Tiger Style). Allegiances shift, people change, and everyone is freaking out about money. A showdown is inevitable.

Despite my skittish disposition towards most Bruceploitation fare, this was a pleasant surprise. The film doesn’t do much to hide its iconographic nods. Even though his hair is more Bieber than bowl cut, Bruce Li’s character makes frequent references to his idol, has a Lee poster hanging in his room, reads his books, and is even regarded by Mr. Chien as a dangerous fighter because he “fights like Bruce Lee.” Sure he does, movie dialogue. Wink wink, nudge nudge.

I don’t know that 1977’s Soul Brothers of Kung Fu was the best place to begin in Carl Scott’s filmography, but it was definitely the earliest. He earns a strong supporting role here, with plenty of screen time and a performance nearly undone by one of the most horrific voice actor dubs I’ve ever heard. Fortunately, we’re not watching a Carl Scott movie to see him channel Sidney Poitier, and he conveys plenty of screen presence in his engagements with an eager and energetic Hong Kong stunt team in some good fight scenes. At times, he looks like an absolute world-beater. The Gents have discussed in past episodes how rare it was for gweilos to be able to hang with action players in golden-age Hong Kong, but Scott looks very much at home here and his fighting talent is undeniable.

Wading through the glut of 1970s kung fu cinema, let alone the output of second- and third-tier Hong Kong production companies, can be a cinematic minefield. Does this film rival stuff with the Shaw Brothers stamp? Is it Magnificent Butcher? Of course not, but when you’ve seen something as actively bad as Swordsman with an Umbrella and been burned by bargain bin multi-packs, a film like this is a happy accident. The exploitation elements were surprisingly strong too, as debuting director Yi-Jung Hua navigates from x-ray punches, organ gouging, and attempted rape to casual bloodletting and groin attacks. It should be said that not all of these elements revealed themselves on my first watch; after observing some confusing edits during the back-end “boss battles,” I discovered that the film had an uncut version floating around under the title Kung Fu Avengers (detailed here, be wary of spoilers). A simple rewatch of a few select climax scenes probably elevated this film a full point or more.

Make or Break: No matter which cut of the film you watch, the aforementioned sequence of boss battles is the stretch upon which your enjoyment of the film will likely hinge. If you see the Xenon
version, the herky jerky editing and jump cuts to nowhere will probably break the film into a hundred bite-sized pieces. The grisly conclusions in the uncut version, however, make for a satisfying film overall and provide logical extensions to the techniques we observe during training scenes earlier in the film.

Does the Film Have a Random Yuen Biao Appearance?: Yes, it has one.

MVT: I wish I could report that this was *the* Carl Scott film to see, but he’s underutilized here and the awful dubbing doesn’t help matters. Everything about this film is, at minimum, solid. Which is to say, not horrible. This makes it hard to single out any aspect as the most critical, but the fighting is probably the element closest to exceptional. All of the fighters, from Deadly Venom Meng Lo and Alexander Grand to Carl Scott and Feng Ku move well and throw convincing strikes, and the gore at the back end of the film helps to sell the stakes of each fight. The inventive training sequences added a nice visual touch as well. Dig it.
Score: 6.75 / 10

The Eternal Evil Of Asia (1995)

I realize my mind can be shaky at times.  There’s a history of Alzheimer’s in my family (and baldness) which, I’m sure, will one day come a-knockin’ for me (the baldness already paid me a visit far too early, but I suppose that neither of the two are things you want to encounter either early or late in life).  My point is, the first Chinese film I can remember ever having seen (if my memory can be trusted) was Chang Cheh’s seminal Wire Fu Melodrama Five Deadly Venoms.  Television station WNEW out of New York would broadcast various Horror and Martial Arts movies every Saturday afternoon under the Drive-In Movie banner.  More than the movies, though, they had great (okay, they were cheap), custom introductions and bumpers (you can find them on Youtube, if you care to check them out, and, to be frank, I feel the halting of their production and inclusion on all stations was a mistake, as they were a personalized introduction for the viewer and an indication that the people showing you the movie were actually aware of what they were putting on the air [sure, there were errors made, but come on]), and just hearing them was enough (then and now) to instill an excitement that today most kids get from…whatever it is that excites kids these days.  At any rate, the sight of the perennially crag-faced Lo Meng as a Taoist priest in Chin Man-Kei’s The Eternal Evil Of Asia (aka Nan Yang Shi Da Xei Shu aka Erotic Black Magic) instantly transported me back to those days of my youth.  Funny enough, it’s a feeling which is rarely duplicated by watching the pristine DVD I have of that earlier film (part of the reason being that the method of exhibition of certain films in certain settings will create as different an experience as the variety of films being shown).

Eternal Evil… opens with a quick bit of exposition explaining that in certain parts of Asia (Thailand, Malaysia, etcetera; the implication is they are the less “sophisticated” areas), the idea of magic and enchantments (an evil form of Buddhism, we are told) is believed in as a matter of daily existence.  The story next jumps over to Hong Kong, where Nam (Bobbie Au-Yeung) has recently buried his parents.  Whilst arguing with his wife and junk food junkie son, a malevolent figure stands outside Nam’s apartment building, straw doll in hand.  The wizard Laimi (Ben Ng) manipulates the doll, and suddenly Nam sees the corpses of his parents, begging to come home.  Nam flips out, grabs a knife and stabs at his undead ancestors.  It should go without saying that things go downhill from there for poor Nam.  Meanwhile, lovely cosmetologist May (Ellen Chan) begins to suspect her fiancée Bon’s (Chan Kwok-Pong) recent out-of-country activities with regards to the supernatural goings-on and their escalation in her life.

The Eternal Evil Of Asia is a Category III (more familiarly Cat III) film from Hong Kong, and I believe this is the first Cat III film I’ve ever reviewed (see my notes on memory above).  Briefly (and this is in no way intended as a comprehensive overview, explanation, or dissection of this type of film, so on the better-than-average odds you know more about these films than I do, please chime in), this rating designation is the Chinese equivalent of the American X or NC-17.  Even in a film industry where bullet squibs and disembowelings are fairly commonplace, Cat III films go a step or two further in either blood or sex (or both and possibly even at the same time), though I don’t believe they have ever actually depicted sex in a hardcore pornographic fashion (again, I could be wrong).  Thus endeth the quasi-lesson.  

Regardless, sex and blood are the order of the day here, and it’s intriguing what this film says about sex.  Essentially, sex is all things in the world created by the filmmakers.  Sex is a motivator for men and women alike.  Sex is an industry.  Sex is the ultimate expression of both love and hate.  Sex is liberating and imprisoning.  Perhaps more than these, sex is a weapon, and a powerful one at that.  Much of the magic shown in the film is brought about through the physical act of sex.  Nowhere is this more on show than in the duel between Laimi and married magicians Barran and Chusie (Julie Lee) in Thailand.  The couple literally copulates in midair in order to cast spells, including one which traps Laimi inside a giant placenta.  Later, Laimi casts an enchantment so that Bon will fall in love with and have sex with his sister Shui Mei-mei (Gwan Chin).  Laimi also casts a spell on Bon preventing him from achieving an erection while May undresses for him and then making it return later when it’s no longer of use (at least for certain things).  The climax of the film involves sex being used by both the protagonists and the antagonist.  

Further, the female characters in the film are all fairly modern and liberated in regards to their approach to sex.  An older lady at May’s salon goes into lavish detail (replete with visual demonstration) about ways to fellate a man and work the wrinkles out of his scrotum (yes, really).  But sex in the film does have consequences at all times.  I cannot recall a single instance during the runtime where sex does not affect the well-being (or fate) of one or more of the characters involved in the act.  Sex is not meaningless here.  It is not engaged in lightly.  For a film selling itself as primarily prurient fare, that the filmmakers would treat coitus with a certain air of responsibility is somewhat refreshing.

In the Western countries of the world, if you were to ask someone on the street what they’re concept of magic is, you would most likely hear one of three names: Gandalf, Merlin, or Harry Potter.  These are fairly altruistic characters (fairly, I said), and there is an air of formal theatricality in their practices.  Magicians or wizards on this side of the pond are thought of as kindly, elderly, and wise.  In the East, magic is more visceral and more spiritual, being tied to religion as it is.  Even the Lord of the Nazgûl could never be envisioned bathing himself in the blood of innocents in order to acquire the power needed to rape his enemy’s girlfriend via astral projection.  Western magic is thought of as long flowing robes and beards, pointed hats, and magic wands/staffs.  Eastern magic is viewed as crude effigies, bodily fluids, and strong emotional motivators.  It naturally lends itself to a more horrific cinematic portrayal, filled with wriggling animals expelled from human bodies, ghosts bursting forth a la Alien (but chunkier), and even compulsions to auto-cannibalism.  

Director Man-Kei uses the camera to describe a magical world.  Even for Hong Kong cinema, the camerawork in The Eternal Evil Of Asia is manic, to say the least.  I don’t think there is a single shot in the film composed from atop a tripod, and almost every one of them twists and whirls around any given subject.  Normally, this sort of frenzied camerawork is a massive put-off for me, but I must say, it was largely successful in its dynamism and in conveying to the audience that none of what we are seeing is taking place in the real world.  But while I enjoy both versions of filmic sorcery, I must say that, given a choice, I think I’d prefer to have drinks with Sabrina any day of the week. 

MVT:  I really took a shine to the core idea of the film; this concept that sex can be an element of control, and it can be both beneficial and destructive.  Even with this sense of accountability with regards to sex, though, Man-Kei’s film also succeeds wildly at being sexy (with a goodly dose of sleaze thrown in, to be sure).

Make Or Break:  Nam’s opening demise Makes the film.  It is the most atmospheric and genuinely creepy of the mystical attacks in the film, and it locked in my interest for the rest of the film’s ride.

Score:  7/10