Viking Night: The Killer
By Bruce Hall
June 15, 2016
BoxOfficeProphets.com
So they brag and brag and brag about having seen it?
Maybe it happens less than it used to, since John Woo movies are no longer hard to find, as they were back in the day. With no Netflix to monopolize your weekends and no BitTorrent to fill your computer with Russian viruses, you had to know just the right guy at just the right video store to get your hands on all the latest and greatest from Hong Kong. Hollywood sure as hell noticed, though, and was taking cues from Woo as early as 1986's Cobra, where Sly Stallone learns that it takes more than sticking a match in your mouth if you want to be Chow Yun-Fat.
Speaking of Chow Yun-Fat, he was already a huge star in China and had worked with Woo before when they collaborated on Woo's magnum opus, 1989's The Killer. If you're younger than a certain age, you may never have heard of it. In fact, you might not even know who this “John Woo” guy is, either. Woo walked away from American cinema some time ago, a victim of the very Hollywood desire to want the same success as someone else without having to take any of the risks that made them successful. Books can and have been written on this, but suffice it to say that what made Woo's films what they were did not translate well to Western screens.
As someone who considers themselves a fan, I'll admit now that the first 20 minutes can be a bit of a challenge to the newly initiated. What's dramatic or moving to an audience in Hong Kong might not go over the same way on this side of the planet, so to call the setup to The Killer “melodramatic” feels somehow insufficient. A hit-man named Ah Jong (Chow Yun-Fat) takes one last job before what he hopes will be a long and comfortable retirement. The hit goes fine - it's a jaw dropping ballet of blood and bullets. But we'll get into that later. For now, know that in the process of taking his target, Ah Jong accidentally wounds an innocent bystander.
The woman turns out to be a nightclub singer named Jennie (Sally Yeh), and her eyesight is severely impaired as a result of the attack. Driven by guilt, Ah Jong begins visiting her at the club, and soon they fall in love.
Isn't that nice? Oh, wait. Did I mention that Jennie has no idea the guy she's in love with is the same guy who very nearly shot her in the face? Not that I'm judging. We've all kept things from women, right guys? Although, it's usually things like “I lied when I said you were cuter than Brie Larson” and “This is actually my father's car.” Although Ah Jong is an honorable man - one of the main themes of the story, in fact - you have to wonder how many Thanksgivings were going to go by before the whole “sorry for nearly shooting you in the face” thing came up. Still, his sincere remorse causes Ah Jong to accept one LAST last job from his handler, Fung Sei (Chu Kong). His goal is to earn enough money to pay for an operation that could restore Jennie's sight and allow them to retire together.
That's a lovely plan, especially the part where I envision Ah Jong pulling off the whole “Turns out I'm the guy who shot your face off but since I also fixed it will you marry me” routine. Classic. Unfortunately, while the hit goes well, the victim happens to be a visiting dignitary, and the Hong Kong police are super embarrassed to be on brain detail after the shooting. Hot shot detective Li Ying (Danny Lee) gives chase, and becomes intrigued by Ah Jong when the assassin goes out of his way to get medical attention for an innocent girl injured by their shootout. Ah Jong escapes, and this is about when you realize you've been staring intently at the screen and not moving for a long time.
The sappy bombast of the first 20 minutes might make you wonder if you want to keep watching. And then come the NEXT 20, which suck you in without warning. Most of the film's melodrama comes from Jennie, whose hysterics nearly derail almost every scene she's in. I don't think this is just some unfortunate cultural mistranslation; I think it's just simply a bad performance. Most of the rest comes from the interaction between Ah Jong and Li Ying during their chase. But over time it becomes absorbing as you realize what the story is trying to accomplish.
It's not just that the two men are portrayed as two sides of the same coin. The “I could have been you - you could have been me” thing has been a staple of crime stories for as long as there's been crime. But the degree to which each character will not cross certain lines or betray certain ideals forms the dramatic core of the film. It also provides some truly extraordinary tension between Ah Jong and Fung Sei. They both work for the same ruthless crime boss, and when Ah Jong falls out of favor with the organization, it results in a spectacular battle of wills and willful decisions between all three men.
No. It's not the most original story in the world. But it's told in such a stylish and operatic way, and the code of honor by which these men operate is so wonderfully archaic and yes - even romantic. Yes, it sweeps you off your feet - in a bullet pumping maelstrom of explosions, car chases and shrieking lounge singers. And let's not forget all those macho cops and robbers, shouting musical sounding dialogue at each other with Shakespearean hubris. Woo claims Martin Scorsese as a source of inspiration, but if you ask me it feels like an homage to Michael Mann. The Killer is full of style, swagger, poetry, motion and men whose professional relationships are steeped in brotherly love.
And those action scenes? Well, what can I say? All the stuff you see in action films today - people running, jumping and shooting with two guns? Heavily choreographed, almost ballet-like gunfights? The hero and villain - not so philosophically different - trading comic book dialogue as they hold each other at gunpoint during a critical scene? The church shootout with the doves flying away at the end? Michael Bay's whole fucking career? All of that started here, with The Killer. And despite having been duplicated more times than all Metallica's albums put together, there's still nothing quite like the original. Yes, Chow Yun-Fat fires his pistols continuously for five minutes without reloading - because to do so would ruin the flow of the scene.
I wasn't kidding when I described The Killer as “operatic.” The action on screen, the dialogue, the themes and even the physical movements of the characters all have meaning at one point or another in this film and they're inexorably tied together. So, you can throw a lot of motion into every scene and choreograph your action scenes with such precision as to make the Lord of the Dance look like a stumbling drunk. You can do that, and end up with something like Bad Boys, which is a perfectly entertaining action flick, but raise your hand if you can tell me what the hell it was about?
But who's seen The Killer and cannot recall the story of the whiny lounge singer who lost her sight, and the reluctant team of cop and hit man who had to put aside their differences to try and save her? With everyone shooting two guns at once and doves everywhere?
Who, indeed. Modern action, in the original idiom, is still a thrill to behold.