Attention cult film fans: you have a new Holy Grail.  The film is called Tears Of The Black Tiger and you must seek it out wherever it may be. Director/writer Wisit Sasanatieng’s first and thus far only film, Tears Of The Black Tiger, is a dizzying, delirious experience in pure camp cinema, one that would undoubtedly be a major international smash had it come from just about any film-producing country other than Thailand.  Thailand has been the overlooked distant relative in the Asian film world for years, and though the rise of the incredibly talented Pang brothers has brought the country some much deserved attention, it may have come too late for films like Tears Of The Black Tiger.

So what is this thing and why get so excited?  Part parody and part serious homage, Tears Of The Black Tiger is a film completely out of time and place, something completely and totally unexpected from Asian cinema: a 40’s era cowboy melodrama shot in glorious Technicolor, or, in this case, a no-name Technicolor substitute.  Tears Of The Black Tiger tells the story of Dum, a young peasant boy who falls in love with Rumpoey, the daughter of the local governor.

The two want to be married but can’t due to social circumstances. Dum vows to make himself worthy of Rumpoey and make her his own and heads off to find his fortune.  He falls in with a group of gangsters and eventually becomes the right-hand man in the gang, known to all as the Black Tiger, feared fastest gun in the land.  Back in Bangkok, Rumpoey eventually abandons hope of ever hearing from Dum again and allows herself to be pressured into an engagement with a local police captain determined to bring down Dum’s gang.  Will the lovers ever be reunited?

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Tadanobu Asano is Japan’s answer to Johnny Depp.  Like Depp, Asano is blessed (cursed?) with pop star good looks and could have easily lived out the teen idol fantasy doing pin-up spreads in Japan’s equivalent to Seventeen and Tiger Beat magazine.  But like Depp, Asano has chosen to turn his back on mainstream pop culture, instead starring in a series of cult films that has made him Japan’s reigning king of quirk cinema.  And again, like Depp, thanks to his continual reinvention of himself as a performer, Asano has become one of the most sought after Japanese stars, appearing in films from the likes of Takashi Miike, Kiyoshi Kurosawa, and Takeshi Kitano.  Asano’s presence in a film is a nearly surefire mark of quality and it was purely on the basis of his presence that I sought out the just-released Thai film Last Life In The Universe.

Asano stars as Kenji, an isolated and obsessively neat Japanese man living on his own in Bangkok, living a quiet life as a librarian at the Japanese Cultural Center.  His apartment is a sterile, cold place, almost entirely devoid of any color with his possessions - mostly stacks upon stacks of books - fanatically organized by size, shape, color, etc.  Kenji is also suicidal, openly entertaining death fantasies and wondering what comes next - a topic he has evidently dwelt upon for quite some time.

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Poor Jackie Chan. He works so hard to gain our love and approval, our applause and accolades. He risks life and limb, doing stunts that make normal men faint at the mere thought of doing it themselves - breaking bones and doing insane comedic stunts all to make us laugh in awe and wonder. And yet he consistently gets laughed at, his movies get panned by “serious” film critics, and people always smirk and/or grimace when you suggest renting one of his movies.

But to be honest, I can see where they’re coming from. If you get the right Jackie Chan movie, like Drunken Master 2 or Supercop, it’s a wonderful way to spend a couple of hours. Jackie is like a human slinky, getting in and out of predicaments without breaking a sweat, taking on dozens of opponents with no more that his fancy footwork and a few handy props. But if you get the wrong Jackie Chan movie, even diehard fans will be wincing before it’s halfway over. Police Force is somewhere between the two extremes. It contains some of Jackie’s most insane stunts and martial artistry. But it also contains plenty of cheese and schlock.

Jackie plays a police officer named Kevin Chan. Assigned to capture a drug dealer named Ku, he starts the movie off with a bang - a downhill carchase through a housing development. In the process, he captures Ku’s secretary, Selena (Brigitte Lin). The twist comes when he is assigned to protect Selena before she is called to witness in Ku’s trial. Of course, Ku can’t have that so he sends his thugs to dispatch Lin. On top of that, Kevin must deal with his girlfriend, May (Maggie Cheung), who is not to pleased at the idea of Kevin watching over Selena. Of course, Jackie hams it up for the camera, getting into embarrassing situations and generally making a fool of himself in the process.

However, the movie’s final third takes a darker twist when Kevin is accused of killing a fellow officer. Wanted by both the police and Ku’s men, the movie escalates until the final confrontation in a shopping mall. Now, let me just say this: if you’re watching Police Story and start to get a little frustrated, just be patient because you shall be rewarded. The fight in the shopping mall gets extremely vicious. Jackie’s comedic persona disappears and it becomes an all-out brawl, complete with Jackie’s trademark stuntwork.

There are several scenes that just make me wince. Watching Jackie fall over balcony, crash through a wooden lattice, and hit the concrete floor (I even think he bounces) is painful to watch. But to watch him get up and shrug it off… I tip my hat to the man. This is Jackie at his finest, doing things that ordinary people like you and me would never dream of doing. Just be patient, my friend. Police Force can be painful to watch at times, especially if you’re not used to Jackie’s humor. But just be patient, because Jackie makes it all worthwhile in the end. And noone, not even his biggest detractors, can contest that.

Cure is a film I first tried to see a couple years ago when it played to rave reviews at a small theater here in Toronto.  Alas, when I arrived at the theater I was told that the print they had had been badly scratched and they were still awaiting delivery of a new copy. I sadly went on my way and had to wait a year and a half to finally catch the film thanks to a cheap bootleg DVD copy.

Director Kiyoshi Kurosawa - no, he’s not related to that other Kurosawa you may have heard about - is one of Japan’s most respected film talents and Cure is his unquestioned master work.  It tells the story of Keniche Takabe, a weary Tokyo detective with a decaying home life who is assigned to investigate a series of seemingly unconnected murders that share an identical modus operandi.  All of the victims are killed with a large “X” sliced around their necks by otherwise peaceable people who claim to have had no control over their actions at the time.  Is there some underlying link that is being overlooked?  Some sort of mind control or supernatural force at play?

Cure is a stark, austere film beautifully shot and acted.  Like his contemporary Hideo Nakata (The Ring, Dark Water), Kurosawa understands the importance of mood and tone, and he frames and paces his shots meticulously. In the hands of a lesser director, or just about any current North American studio, a script like this would devolve into mindless slasher fare.  But Kurosawa is a true master of his craft and in his hands, Cure becomes a compellingly ambiguous morality play, a meditation on the darkness that lies within everyone and just how simple it is to cross into that darkness.

Cure is a perfect entry point into the work of a compelling artist whose work is already being optioned for release in North America - Wes Craven has reportedly bought remake rights to Pulse, Kurosawa’s subversive teen ghost story/look at technological isolation/tale of the impending apocalypse - and HVE have released Cure on DVD with a pristine transfer, in the original aspect ratio, and with a recent interview with the director.

Written by Chris Brown.

On paper, So Close seems like the perfect movie.  Take three attractive Asian ladies (Shu Qi, whose lips should be banned by the Geneva Convention; the ultra-crushworthy Zhao Wei; and Karen Mok, one of Hong Kong’s more controversial entertainers) and their bare midriffs, give them with some high-tech spy gizmos, throw in plenty of high-kicking martials arts action and gunplay, and toss in a little romance.  And, for those into that sort of thing, throw in some minor lesbian action for good measure.  Oh yeah, and the most preposterous use of the Carpenters’ music in a movie… ever.

All in all, So Close sounds like the sort of cheesecake movie that Hong Kong action cinema is so adept at producing (i.e. Downtown Torpedoes, Tokyo Raiders).  And it certainly tries its darndest to exceed its audience’s expectations in every way possible.  But even those expecting pure eye candy and cinematic fluff might find So Close less than filling.

Qi and Wei play Lynn and Sue, two sisters who, in addition to gallivanting about town and buying cake in their supermodel outfits, also happen to be a topnotch assassin team.  Sue is the deadly marksman, whereas Lynn is an expert hacker who serves as her eyes and ears.  Backing them up is the Deus Ex Machina, err, I mean World Panorama, a satellite surveillance unit created by their father that allows them to hack into any closed circuit TV system in the world and spy on anyone they wish.  (Yes, that sound you just heard was Donald Rumsfeld having an orgasm.)

Having completed their latest job - the assassination of a wealthy CEO named Chow Lui - the two sisters are ready to get on with their next assignment… or try to out-cute eachother, whichever comes first.  However, life as an assassin isn’t always what popcorn Hong Kong action movies makes it out to be, and the sisters soon find their lives getting more complicated.

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The plot of Ong-Bak is about as simple as you can get, even for a martial arts film.  The welfare of a remote Thai village is protected by the Ong-Bak, an ancient statue of Buddha.  One night, a group of thugs come into the temple and take off the statue’s head, and as a result, a curse descends on the village, Temple Of Doom style.  Ting, an orphan who was raised in the temple, vows to find the head and return with it.  And so, with just the clothes on his back and a handful of cash, this bumpkin sets off for the big city.

Thankfully, however, Ting also happens to be a master of the brutal art of Muay Thai kickboxing.  Which, naturally, is going to come in very handy over the next 90 minutes or so for kicking epic proportions of ass.

When Ting arrives in the city, he hooks up with the estranged son of the village chief, a two-bit hustler whose name just so happens to be (I kid you not) Dirty Balls, and whose schemes (and name) provide much of the film’s comic relief.  Dirty Balls’ partner in crime, a scrappy young girl with one of the shrillest voices in the world, also tags along, having taken a shine to the strong, silent villager.

Over the course of the movie, the trio mixes it up with drug dealers, archaeological thieves, gangsters, illegal boxing matches, and all other manner of underhanded types.  Like I said, the movie’s plot is about as simple and predictable as it gets, serving only to provide a little breathing space between the fight scenes.  Of course, the fight scenes are the real reason why anyone watches martial arts movies (and anyone who tells you otherwise, myself included, is lying through their teeth), but that’s triply so with Ong-Bak.

At this point, I want you to pause and ask yourself how much cinematic ass-kicking you can handle.  Now be honest.  If your only experience comes from Jean Claude Van Damme and Steven Seagal movies, or worse yet, Don “The Dragon” Wilson movies, you’re simply not ready for this one.  Trust me.Those movies have the appearance of action, but it’s all fancy editing and camera tricks.  Go rent a few Bruce Lee movies and then come back when you’re ready.  If you’ve made it through early Jackie Chan and Jet Li movies, like Drunken Master 2 and Fist Of Legend, you’re getting closer.  But even then, you’ll need to think long and hard before going into Ong-Bak.

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In 2000, Ryuhei Kitamura released Versus, his third film and the one that put him on the map.  With its mixture of too-cool yakuza swagger, Matrix-style action, Evil Dead homages, samurai action, and oh yeah, plenty of hilarious zombie gore, Versus took the cult film world by storm and announced the emergence of a new talent to watch.  Everyone, myself included, eagerly scanned the Web for any news about Kitamura’s upcoming projects.

Last year, he released Alive, a dark sci-fi film a la Cube that has received a wide range of opinions, though most seem to agree that it’s pretty lacking compared to Versus (I have not seen it myself, but hope too soon).  And so everyone’s attention turned to Azumi, Kitamura’s adaptation of Yu Koyama’s manga series.  Put simply, it ain’t no Versus.  Not even close.

As much as I like it, Versus does have some big flaws that become apparent once the initial adrenaline rush wears off (for starters, too many scenes run on for far too long and it often drowns in its own stylistic excess).  However, the film’s appeal easily outweighs any flaws, and it’s still one that I highly recommend and get a kick out of when I watch it with friends.  Azumi, however, feels like a pale, 5th-generation photocopy of everything that made Versus so great, while taking everything that was flawed about Versus and multiplying it by a factor of 10.

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This movie was not what I expected.  I suppose that’s a crummy way of starting off a review, but even as I write this review, I have a hard time putting my feelings into words.  The Tin Drum (based on the novel by Günter Grass) is a film I admire, and it is definitely powerful and memorable.  However, to call it disturbing is to just scratch the surface.

The whole reason the film “works” is that the main character is a child, albeit a strange child.  Oskar is born into the pre-World War 2 world completely aware of himself and his surroundings.  At the age of 3 he concludes that adults are nasty, ugly creatures and decides to stop growing.  At this point, the film could’ve been an interesting look at the rise of Nazi Germany through the eyes of a child gifted with the intellect of an adult, a combination of innocence and wisdom.

However, the film is not that.  At least, not entirely.  For one thing, Nazism is treated peripherally.  The focus of the film is the little world that Oskar inhabits.  Another thing is that Oskar is far from being innocent.  Although he observes that adults are nasty and pitiful, he is not without his own faults.  Even though Oskar remains a child on the outside, inside he becomes a tricky, deceitful, and manipulative individual.  Soon, the evil inside him makes that of the adults around him pale in comparison.

It’s never really clear if Oskar cares for anyone other than himself.  He seems completely ambivalent to everyone around him, focused entirely on himself.  In looking back, the film is almost an indictment of those who remained ambivalent in the face of Nazism’s rise.  They only saw the good things that occured as Hitler and his cohorts gained power; the increased national pride, military strength, and prosperity.  However, they remained blissfully unaware of the underlying evil that would eventually lead to one of the greatest atrocities in the history of mankind.  Oskar seems like a metaphor for this.  On the outside, he is a sweet little boy lavished with attention and love.  On the inside, he is deceitful and conniving, eventually destroying the lives of those around him.

When the film was originally released, it was branded as child pornography.  Technically, it’s not, but there are plenty of sexual situations in the movie, several of which involve Oskar.  Although Oskar’s body doesn’t age, his mind does and he eventually reaches adulthood with all of its lusts and desires.  These come to surface when the beautiful Anna arrives to help out after Oskar’s mother commits suicide.  A sexual relationship begins between Oskar and Anna.  Although no explicit sexual activity is shown, it does occur, leading to some scenes that are difficult to watch.

The Tin Drum is a powerful and memorable film, and depending upon how you perceive the content, that can be a good thing or a terrible thing.  There are scenes that will make many people wince and squirm in their seats, and it walks a very fine line in justifying those with the themes that it deals with.  Personally, I find myself focusing more on the metaphor of Oskar.  He’s a fascinating character, and the actor portraying him (David Bennent) does an excellent job of conveying Oskar as a child who is only childish on the outside.  This is not a movie for everyone, and not just because of the film’s sexual content.  It is a disturbing one, because we expect to see innocence and childhood, but instead find corruption and sin.