By Pete Mills, on 26-01-2008 19:44

Warriors Two Distributor: Contender Entertainment Group Format: Region 2 (PAL) Length: 91 min. Aspect Ratio: Widescreen 2.35:1 Audio: Cantonese, English (Dubbed) Subtitles: English Extras: The Way of the Warrior Documentary, Feature Length Audio Commentary, Trailer Gallery, Fully Animated Menus Sound: Dolby Digital 5.1

Year of Release: 1978; Origin: Hong Kong; Studio: Golden Harvest

Director: Sammo Hung Kam-bo; Producer: Raymond Chow Man-wai; Script: Szeto On; Action Director: Sammo Hung Kam-bo; Cast: Casanova Wong Ho, Sammo Hung Kam-bo, Leung Kar-yan, Fung Hark-on, Dean Shek Tin, Lee Hoi-san, Tiger Yeung Cheng-wu, Yeng Wei, Lau Kar-wing.

Alternative Titles: N/A

Review

Sammo Hung’s best film? Maybe. But then, even if The Prodigal Son is slightly better, this still runs at a close second, and many would even argue that its action content alone makes it a contender for best kung fu movie ever made, regardless of it’s worth within Sammo’s sterling filmography. Warriors Two is fully-blown, unabashed and unadulterated entertainment from one of the true geniuses of the genre. Perhaps the key to its success is in its relative obscurity, besides it’s status as a late-night cult classic: Hong Kong Legends have only recently given the film a glorious, long-awaited DVD transfer that it rightfully deserves, while the film’s availability across the Western world is sparse given the lack of mainstream appeal Sammo has been awarded over his Opera school chum Jackie Chan. But at a time when Chan was only just forging starring role credibility in Yuen Woo Ping’s first few movies, Sammo had already gained a wealth of experience in front of and behind the camera, and by 1978, Warriors Two would be his third directorial feature. It’s a credit to Sammo’s ingenious style of filmmaking that he would forge the boom of the kung fu comedy film at Golden Harvest, a genre that Jackie would later receive a lot of the acclaim for.

Forever interested in the history and development of certain martial art styles, Sammo’s influence for the movie stems from the real-life story of Wing Chun master Leung Tsan. He would make two films about Leung Tsan’s life: this film, which concentrates on his later life as an ageing nobleman up to his death; and a second film, The Prodigal Son (1981), which sees Yuen Biao play Leung Tsan as a spoilt adolescent. ‘One of the writers I worked with told me about the whole history of Wing Chun and this character interested me,’ Sammo told writer Bey Logan. ‘He was almost the Wing Chun equivalent of Wong Fei-hung! In the first film, he’s already an old man and an expert fighter. We look at the events leading up to his death and these two guys who take vengeance…I guess I made them the wrong way around, but that’s how it turned out.’ (1995:90) Wing Chun, according to whatever book you read, is said to have originated by the Buddhist nun Ng Mui after witnessing a duel between a snake and a crane. Ideally suited for the thin physique of a woman with its rigid structure, low kicks and straight punches, Ng Mui taught the style to her student, Yim Wing Chun, and also named the style after her (the literal meaning of Wing Chun is ‘beautiful springtime’). The opening of Warriors Two tries to summarise the history of the style, and its linkage to Leung Tsan, on a dramatic opening set where the key players perform a fanciful version of the style in front of a waterfall and a bamboo forest. The voiceover reads:

‘There are many kung fu schools in Southern China. The most famous are Hung, Kui, Chu, Lee and Mo. There is also the school of Wing Chun. It was developed by a Shaolin nun, who named it after her student, Yim Wing Chun. Yim passed it to her husband, Leung Bok Chao. Leung taught Wong Wai Bo. And Wong taught Leung Tsan…’

The real-life Leung Tsan was a street fighter who lived in the Cantonese province of Fatshan until the turn-of-the-century, but like all artists, Sammo takes a giant leap of poetic license in describing the events leading up to his death. Leung Tsan is depicted as a virtuous and sterling figure, dragged into battle by his mischievous students who eventually lead him to his own demise. The parallels with the film character of folk hero Wong Fei-hung are obvious, with Sammo referencing the Kwan Tak Hing films as a constant source of inspiration. The only identifying factor of Leung Tsan’s character here that stands him apart from Fei-hung is the fact that he performs Wing Chun movements.

In the training scenes, Leung Tsan is teaching Cashier Hua the rudiments of Wing Chun, which involves forms, reflex exercises and breaking kernels with a wooden staff. This is the only part of the film where authentic Wing Chun movements come into their own, which raises the question of true authenticity when it comes to kung fu movies. Wing Chun experts will probably hate Warriors Two and The Prodigal Son for its inaccurate depiction of the style, which is something Leon Hunt points out in his book Kung Fu Cult Masters: ‘Hung never lets Wing Chun orthodoxy get in the way of his performers’ talents – Casanova Wong’s Taekwondo kicking, his own flips and somersaults.’ (2004:35) He states that ‘Wong looks awkward when trying to do Wing Chun’ and that ‘archival authenticity only survives in fragments,’ (2004:35) the training scene being the best example. Herein lies the key to Sammo’s unique choreography, the fact that he can blend other movements from various Shaolin styles into the rudiments of a completely detracted and distinctive form of martial arts. The arm locks and hand movements of Leung Tsan in the film are clearly Wing Chun blocking and striking techniques, but the style never uses any high kicks, an adaptation Sammo alters to enhance the excitement of the on-screen fighting. It’s this distinction that made Sammo’s films so familiar, and so dissimilar from the stubbornly traditional films being made at Golden Harvest’s biggest rival, the Shaw Brothers. Bey Logan states that the ‘ending features a ferocity in its combat that’s absent from many of the period’s more mannered Shaw Brothers films,’ (1995:86) a giant leap that Golden Harvest self-consciously took on board.

So Sammo’s artistic license broadens to both the story and the choreography. In fact, Warriors Two goes a long way to encapsulating every aspect of Sammo’s talents in one perfectly accomplished movie. There’s no questioning his authoritative stamp is all over the proceedings: the pace of the story-telling shows a maturity in his direction that he would later hone as a running trait for all his films, interspersing comedy routines that sometimes jar with the narrative but are nevertheless well-worked and funny moments. It works as both a Master/Pupil narrative and a straightforward revenge film. At times, the film is very dramatic and effective, while a consistent stream of the best kung fu action ever put on celluloid ensures that Sammo receives the most out of his cast and stunt team, many of which are unknown players forced into the limelight.

Sammo’s unselfish sensibility of launching the careers of relatively unknown stars is a well-earned trait that shouldn’t be overlooked. He helped Yuen Biao, Leung Kar Yan and Lam Ching Ying achieve great success, though they all looked their best when Sammo was directing them. The star of Warriors Two, the wonderfully titled Casanova Wong (Ca Sa Fa), was a talented Korean Taekwondo expert almost unheard of at the time the film was made (he had a small role in Sammo’s directorial debut The Iron-Fisted Monk), and unfortunately he never truly capitalised on the success that Warriors Two earned him. His lack of good looks and average acting meant he’d never truly become a big-time player, and after small roles in independent chopsockies, he later retired and moved to the States. Warriors Two aside, he’s probably been most widely noticed fighting a Bruce Lee lookalike in the Cantonese version of Robert Clouse’s Game of Death, co-directed by Sammo Hung.

The best performer in the film is undoubtedly Leung Kar Yan, who even upstages Casanova’s youthful hero and Sammo’s comic sidekick. A great make-up job ages the talented actor into the intelligent, decisive role of Wing Chun master Leung Tsan which he portrays with remarkable ease, given that Leung had not taken a single kung fu lesson before joining Chang Cheh at Shaw Brothers in the early seventies. His muscular build and good-looks made him a prominent player in many kung fu movies of the 70s and 80s, in which he often sported a beard earning him the endearing nickname of ‘Beardy’ by his fans. A purely natural screen presence, Sammo used Leung to great effect both here and in his 1979 Yuen Biao movie Knockabout, but its Warriors Two that remains his most defining moment; his strong stature literally oozing charisma on every frame.

A lot of the supporting roles are given to Sammo’s regular troupe of actors brought together under contract at Golden Harvest, with stunt-work and background parts given to trusted performers like Yuen Biao, Lam Ching Ying, Chung Fat, Chan Lung, Yuen Miu and Chin Yuet San. He really puts together an ensemble cast of the most renowned talent. For example, the baddies are all beloved actors from many kung fu movies: Banker Mo is played by long-time Sammo co-worker and Opera performer Fung Hark-on, a Shaw Brothers stalwart who moved to Golden Harvest and was cast as a regular bad guy in Sammo’s films, amongst many other classics. In Mo’s team of highly skilled and aggressive caricatures, Lee Hoi San is perhaps the most recognisable playing the Iron Armour expert Flag Chao, an actor who’s been in nearly every kung fu film ever made (many with Sammo), while Yeng Wei (Hand of Death), Park Chung Ying (The Skyhawk) and comic relief regular Dean Shek make up the rest. There’s even a brief but crowd-pleasing role for Lau Kar Wing, brother of Shaw legend Lau Kar Leung and regular Sammo contributor, as a Monkey Fist expert who demolishes Mo’s deadly quartet of sword-wielding extras before coming unstuck against Flag Chao’s Iron testicles.

Sammo leaves perhaps the most insignificant and understated character to himself. The character of Fei Chun is similar to the decrepit and snide character of Mentor Chui, whose sole purpose, it seems, is one of light comedic relief, and does little to enhance the story. Fei Chun barely takes any of the events featured in the movie seriously, even during phases when a more dramatic undertone has been set: when Mo’s fighters kill off the remainder of Leung Tsan’s school, Fei Chun smears blood over his face and pretends to be dead. At the start, he’s forced to sell horse manure in an attempt to outwit a pair of con artists. Sammo’s reliance on broad humour is one he’d later nurture to great effect in his 1980’s action movies, yet while the slapstick humour of Warriors Two is evidently disjointed, it is still quite amusing. Both comedic characters meet up in the relentless grand finale, when Fei Chun combats Mentor Chui’s attacks with his buttocks, before his arthritic opponent succumbs to defeat and relinquishes himself by pissing his pants.

As a side note on the surrealistic nature of Sammo’s work, at the end of the film, Banker Mo magnificently transforms not just into a Mantis Fist fighter, but actually into a Praying Mantis: his fingers curl up while his body angles slightly before scuttling sporadically along the floor on hind legs. It’s perhaps the quirkiest and most clever gimmick Sammo’s ever created, and treads softly on the grounds of looking both remarkably effective and hideously crass.

But the choreography is consistently awesome throughout, which is why many kung fu fanatics rate Warriors Two so highly. There’s certainly very little of this calibre out there on the market, filmed during such a golden age of kung fu comedy and featuring such top-notch stars at the peak of their game. The sprawling final bout is so high-octane it’s a miracle the excitement is sustained, but sustained it is, and the crisp combat will leave you aching and breathless. It’s a movie that you’ll just never get sick of.