Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
Second Star to the Right
Why do we fight?
At some point, we only fought for survival, like the ape-men in the Dawn of Man scene in 2001. Sometimes we still do, like Jackie Chan taking on a swarm of bad guys with just a folding chair. Sometimes we’re simply fighting for self respect, like Rocky Balboa seeking to go the distance. Sometimes we fight for freedom, like the Massachusetts regiment in Glory, or for our country, like the Ranger battalion in Normandy in Saving Private Ryan. And sometimes we fight for the pure nihilistic hell of it, like Brad Pitt and Ed Norton in Fight Club.
At any rate, there are any number of dirty, ugly reasons to fight. We fight because we have to, because it’s important to fight. Our urge to fight comes from the deep dark corners of our reptile brain — from the medulla oblongata, as the pompous professor tells Adam Sandler in The Waterboy, right before he gets flattened. When we fight, we’re not using the higher thinking centers of our brain. Our desire to fight doesn’t come from our aesthetic impusles, from our desire to create. We don’t fight in order to make something timeless and beautiful.
Or do we?
The first thing you should know about Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is that the movie has neither a crouching tiger or a hidden dragon. The second thing you should know is that the movie contains fight scenes of startling skill, magical quickness, and stunning beauty. The fighting scenes transcend chopsocky, transcend choreography, transcend gravity. From the first fight scene, which features Michelle Yeoh and Zhang Ziyi flying like Peter Pan over the rooftops of a Chinese town, to the gorgeous forest scene where Zhang Ziyi and Chow-Yun Fat spar and sway among the treetops of an immense pine forest, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon has a dazzling, lyrical array of flashing blades and flying fists that combine to create a symphony of violence, a ballet of mayhem.
If you like kung-fu movies, that ought to be all you need to know, right there. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is to your average, ordinary kung fu movie what Alex Rodriguez is to Mario Mendoza, what Clint Eastwood is to Pauly Shore, what a classic Mexican restaurant is to Taco Bell. This is the quintessential kung fu movie, unsurpassed by anything in the genre. If you don’t like kung fu movies, ask yourself why. Is it because of the bad dubbing? Don’t worry, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon has subtitles. Is it because of the bad production values? Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon blows everything this side of The Matrix out of the water; the special effects used in the fighting scenes are breathtaking. Is it because of the violence? Most of the fighting in the movie is ars gratia artia, done more to amaze the audience than to maim the characters.
Is it the plot?
You might have heard that the plot centers on the Green Destiny, a mystical silver sword inlaid with jade, that makes its wielder all-powerful. The sword’s a McGuffin, though, a distraction, and at a certain point it doesn’t matter who has it. A lot of the early part of the movie — before the fighting starts — revolves around who has the sword, and why Chow-Yun Fat is giving it up, and how important it is, but don’t spend a lot of time worrying about it.
The real center of the plot is Princess Jen, played by Zhang Ziyi. Jen may be the most complex character in the movies this year; it’s a fact that she’s among the most conflicted. We see that she’s trapped by her parents and her culture into an arranged marriage, but we also see that she longs to be an invincible sword goddess. She wants to be faithful to her mentor, the cunning Jade Fox, but has a deep respect for Yeoh’s sad-eyed warrior and Chow-Yun Fat’s serene Shao-Lin monk. And then, in a sprawling, romantic flashback scene, we see her fall in love with the Bandit King of the Western desert. The plot of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon isn’t about who wins and who loses any particular fight, it’s about Jen and the choices she makes, and how they affect others.
Is it the acting?
The real weakness in most kung-fu movies is acting and character development; it’s a weakness that Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon doesn’t share. Chou-Yun Fat has a seemingly easy acting job of; he’s got to play the John Wayne stoic most of the way. But he manages to pull off an excellent performance, managing to be serene and calm while being driven by loss and venegance, and his last scene is a heartbreaker. But it’s Michelle Yeoh who distinguishes herself in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. American audiences know her mostly as a sidechick for James Bond or Jackie Chan. Here, she looks older, sadder, and wiser, and her big, expressive eyes convey a profound sense of regret and heartbreak. It’s a powerful, wistful performance by someone who hasn’t gotten the credit for her acting skills that she deserves.
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is a joy on every level, establishing director Ang Lee into the first rank of great moviemakers. It’s filled with dynamic action, thrilling scenery, and passionate romance. The fight scenes are heart-stoppingly wonderful, with their flying fists, flashing blades, and combatants that soar as if they’ve been sprinkled with fairydust from an Oriental Neverland. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is such a wonderful revelation that really, honestly, there can be only one question left for the serious moviegoer:
Do you want extra butter on your popcorn?