A Chinese Torture Chamber Story (1994)

In the eighties, the government of the then-Crown Colony of Hong Kong reformed their film exhibition regulations and instituted three categories of certification: category I, for general audiences, category II, parental supervision, and category III, adults over 18 only. One motivation behind the new certifications was the desire to allow imported films such as The Last Temptation of Christ to be shown in the colony uncut, but be that as it may, the adult-only category also encouraged local film producers to push the envelope of sex and violence in their films and soon, "Category III" became a convenient handle for a particular type of HK film.

Category III films are almost always "spicy" variants of popular genres: there are category III period films, action films, crime dramas, comedies, horror films and romances, all modelled on popular trends with the addition of nudity, adult situations and graphic violence. As one might expect, Category III films are all over the map in terms of quality, tone, and mood, but like Japanese adult filmmaking, they do have a reputation for indulging cruel, even misogynistic fancies, so they can be offensive to some viewers. However, they can also offer unpredictable, weird film experiences unbound by conventional standards of taste.

And speaking of which, A Chinese Torture Chamber Story (original HK title: The Ten Tortures of the Qing) comes from executive producer Wong Jing, a man who has never let pedestrian notions of good taste stand in his way. I talked about Wong Jing a little some time back. Resolutely a commercial filmmaker, his films include relatively small, cheap productions with non-stars as well as large-budget vehicles for big stars such as Jackie Chan, but his penchant for salty, earthy humor remains consistent throughout. His passion for slapstick, absurdity, and vulgarity annoys critics and viewers who appreciate HK film for its style and its sophistication, but Hong Kongers appreciate zaniness, vulgarity, and nonsense in their entertainment to an extent that many of us overseas do not. It explains why Stephen Chow, who has been a top-billing star in HK for many years, has never really broken through in the Western mainstream with his cartoony action-comedies, and why the films to which Wong Jing gave his imprimatur divide overseas viewers.

In fact Bosco Lam, about whom I have no information, directed A Chinese Torture Chamber Story, from a screenplay by Tsui Tat-chor. The film begins with a brief overview of tortures used in Chinese history before opening on Little Cabbage (Yvonne Yung), discovered doused with blood beside the body of her husband Ge, and she is hauled before a Qing imperial magistrate accused of his murder, along with Yang (Lawrence Ng), a scholar and herbalist who had employed Little Cabbage as a maid, accused as an accessory. The magistrate insists that she and Yang were lovers who had conspired to kill her husband because Yang's wife, concerned about his attraction to her, had packed her off in marriage to Ge to avoid her seducing her husband, and compels her to confess with various tortures, but she insists that she was framed. The story unfolds in flashback as we learn how Little Cabbage came to work in Yang's house, discovers his wife's sexual insatiability, her adulterous affair with the magistrate's son and their plot to frame Little Cabbage for his murder.

The story is serviceable but is not really the point of the movie, merely offering the opportunity to linger on a sex scene here, a gag there, and various bits of shock elsewhere, substituting jaw-dropping set pieces of sex, violence, or humor for dramatic tension. Probably the most memorable moment, the moment where Wong's irreverent humor works best is Scholar Yang's encounter with a larger-than-life kung fu hero (Elvis Tsui) and his equally formidable wife who perform the marital act as though it were a kung fu battle, announcing their moves ("No-Shadow Lick from Fushan!!" being an obvious tip of the hat to the Wong Fei-hung mythos) and flying through the air in traditional sword film wirework style. This scene has apparently become a favorite clip on YouTube (can't seem to find the link... sorry!). Less brilliant but equally memorable is the night of the wedding of Little Cabbage and Ge, a parody of the potter's-wheel-and-Unchained-Melody sequence in Ghost, complete with the Righteous Brothers tune played on Chinese instruments.

Much mileage is gotten out of the size of Ge's masculine endowment, the Yang family nanny's anxiety about the size of her breasts, and the Four Lustful Instruments, the toys with which Yang enhances his wife's sexual enjoyment -- and of course exotic tortures involving contraptions of sticks and strings for crushing the fingers, beds of nails, and a stocks-like hanging cage in which the victim hangs by his skull until his neck breaks -- but like a family uncle who constantly makes tactless, tasteless remarks and passes loud, smelly farts at the table but who is still somehow tolerated, the film's constant scurrying around trying to get a reaction -- any reaction -- out of the viewer becomes somewhat trying, and taken as a whole Torture Chamber fails to quite satisfy as a whodunnit, a bit of sexy fluff or even as a good blood-and-guts gore film, going a little bit in one direction and then in another. It's more an a la carte mix of humor, violence and sex offered in little nibbles that might be tasty at times but might also leave you with a belly-ache at the end.

A Chinese Torture Chamber Story was made at a time when period films were especially popular subjects for the Category III treatment. Stars Lawrence Ng and Yvonne Yung were no strangers to this genre. Ng featured in the groundbreaking period-style erotica Sex and Zen, but he has been for the most part a versatile but middle-of-the-road actor, working extensively in television. Yung worked more extensively in category III films, and although she did diversify somewhat with more mainstream roles and a parallel career as a pop singer, she apparently never really left the category III ghetto. Neither one is a particularly charismatic presence, but Elvis Tsui plays his cameo as the kung fu/sex hero with a suitably lusty machismo, laughing heartily and drinking wine out of the jar like a real man. His character's wife is played by Julie Lee, and she's not bad either.

I first viewed A Chinese Torture Chamber Story several years ago on a VHS distributed by Tai Seng Video: it was released on DVD in 2007 in the US by Discotek Media. Part of the charm of the old VHS releases of Hong Kong films was their use of HK theatrical release prints which, by law (at least before the handover of the Colony to China) were subtitled in Chinese and English. The English subtitling of Hong Kong films often furnishes amusement by its frequently unidiomatic translation. The DVD features a fairly accurate and idiomatic translation but also has an optional "crazy Hong Kong" subtitling, taken from the original HK release, that can be selected.

(Keep in mind the following: A Chinese Torture Chamber Story is not really a date movie: it has full frontal female nudity, adult situations, and scenes of violence and torture that might induce some discomfort in sensitive viewers.)

Last Hero in China (1993)

After three installments of Tsui Hark's Once Upon a Time in China films, star Jet Li left the series, apparently due to disputes with Tsui and his production company Film Workshop, and promptly turned around and played the character he played in the OUATIC series, Wong Fei-hung, for Wong Jing's Workshop. This struck me a little as being like Christopher Reeve playing Superman for a lower-budget studio, but the parallel does not quite stick. Wong Fei-hung is not a proprietary fictional character, but a man who lived in the late Qing and early Republican eras in southern China, a practitioner of Chinese medicine and teacher of Hung Gar kung fu whose reputation as a nationalist folk-hero blossomed after his death in 1924, first through serialized novels and, starting in the late forties, on the silver screen. Wong is the most durable and beloved hero in Hong Kong martial arts cinema, and is also possibly world cinema's most filmed character: Kwan Tak-hing, the movies' first Wong, played him in nearly a hundred films during his career, though Western viewers probably are more familiar with Jackie Chan's revisionist take on the character in the Drunken Master series.

As the Spielberg of Hong Kong cinema, Tsui Hark brought Wong and the martial arts film into the age of big-budget blockbusters with the OUATIC series, showing Wong Fei-hung battling corrupt Qing dynasty officials, foreign profiteers and spies, and nativist fanatics while confronting the changes sweeping China at the time: Western influence, technology, manners, and ideals, and considering how these changes would affect the Chinese national character. Wong Jing is in many respects at the opposite end of the spectrum from Tsui, a screenwriter, producer and director whose taste for unabashed exploitation has earned him friends and enemies the world over, and 1993's Last Hero In China is not nearly as ambitious or as lavish as the films it apes. Jet Li played Wong Fei-hung for Tsui as a relatively youthful but serious man, full of Confucian gravity and sternness, and for Wong Jing he does essentially the same, while adapting the hero subtly to Wong's predilections for over-the-top humor and silliness.

As the film opens, Wong is looking for a new place for his clinic, Po Chi Lam, as students and patients fill the old place to bursting and a notice of a three-fold rent hike comes in. His two senior students, the doughty Foon (Leung Ka-yan) and buck-toothed So (Dicky Cheung), arrange for a spacious new building for the clinic with a man who happens to have the given name Wong Sifu, who admires Wong and would like to learn kung fu with him. Unfortunately, this admiring "Mass Tar Wong" is a brothel-keeper whose establishment, to Wong Fei-hung's embarrassment, is next door to the new Po Chi Lam. But this is the least of Wong Fei-hung's worries, as a heretical sect of monks, with the aid of a local Qing official (Chai Ngong-kau) who is actually a plant loyal to the rebellious nativist Boxer association, kidnap women and traffick them to Southeast Asia to benefit the Boxers, and children are being deafened by a poisonous patent medicine marketed by unscrupulous Westerners.

It isn't necessary to be familiar with the OUATIC series to enjoy this film, but it helps. As tongue in cheek as the OUATIC series was earnest, Last Hero In China, part knock-off, part parody, has fun with the corrupt Qing officials, profiteering Westerners, and nativist fanatics of the series, as well as Wong's upright, almost priggish character and the familiar Wong Fei-hung theme (originally a Cantonese traditional song, developed into a stirring anthem for the series), and especially Wong's famous mastery of the acrobatic spectacle, the Lion Dance: having been humiliated in a Lion Dance competition not by another lion, but by a group led by Qing Legate Officer Lui (played with Simon Legree-ish gusto by Chai Gnong-kau) dressed as a giant fire-breathing centipede and deafened by accidental ingestion of a poisonous Western patent medicine, he escapes to the country to regroup and attempt a cure for his deafness. Inspired by watching a chicken in a farmyard catching bugs, he returns for the most memorable set-piece of the film, defeating the centipede with his new Rooster Style of kung fu complete with wings, claws and beak (the Chinese title of the film is more or less literally "Wong Fei-hung's Iron Rooster Vs. Centipede").

Most of my initial exposure to Jet Li's work has been in his more or less straight-ahead action-hero roles (the OUATIC series, Bodyguard from Beijing, High Risk), roles which displayed his athletic talents but were often weak on characterization. He is capable of a boyish charm when he wants to display it, but he often comes across as being impatient with frivolity. Fortunately, I am beginning to discover the lighter side of Li, and the rooster scene, which segues into a final "drunken boxing" throwdown with Chai Ngong-kau, is a wonderful send-up which he plays to the hilt. As I go through my DVD collection, you can probably expect to read more about Li's lighter side here.

Last Hero in China does not pretend to have the resources available to Tsui in his series, and the film looks it, with the lack of lavish sets covered with that ubiquitous early-nineties style of lower-budget filmmaking consisting of wide-angle, fast-moving camerawork, saturated color and expressionistic lighting. The film does have a number of well-known names in the supporting roles: Anita Yuen plays one of Pimp Wong's girls, with Cheung Man as a young woman from the north who has come to Canton in search of her lost sister, and Gordon Liu Chia-hui as head of the monks. Action direction is provided by Yuen Woo-ping, whose penchant for wirework is given full rein here, giving the action scenes an over-the-top quality in keeping with the general madcap tenor of the film.