uring the decline of the Tang Dynasty, an alliance of thieves called the House of Flying Daggers slowly builds sympathy with the common people of China by stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. After the group repeatedly humiliates local law enforcement, two deputies, Leo (Lau) and Jin (Kaneshiro), are assigned the seemingly impossible task of capturing the group's mysterious leader.
Discovering that a local dancer may be a member of the Flying Daggers, the stalwart deputies set a trap to draw out the leader of the infamous group. To their surprise, the dancer is a meek blind girl named Mei (Ziyi), but she soon reveals herself to be a gifted martial artist. Though she is easily apprehended, a disguised Jin "rescues" her from her captors and takes off for the Chinese countryside.
Hoping to follow her to the Flying Daggers' lair, he slowly seduces her, and she him; they soon find themselves on the run, fighting for their lives against hordes of soldiers. As they fall deeper into trouble, they also fall deeper into love, and find that their alliances are tested as rescue and capture from unlikely sources spring up from unexpected places.
Cinema as sharp as a dagger
It seems as if Zhang Yimou's last martial-arts film, Hero, arrived in theaters only days ago, but that's because distributors Miramax held the picture for two years after it was snubbed by the Academy Awards. So House of Flying Daggers, his latest, is no rush job; rather, it's an extension of the director's emerging ability to interlace drama and action into one spellbinding tapestry. Zhang Ziyi takes center stage after her smaller role in Hero, and proves yet again that there are few actresses (much less actors) tough enough to take her on. Meanwhile, her two leading men, Hong Kong superstar Andy Lau (Infernal Affairs) and newcomer Takeshi Kaneshiro, work their own magic to make sure this unconventional triangle spins in the right direction.
There are numerous subtle differences between Yimou's first and second expeditions into the perilous world of Hong Kong action, but the most noteworthy is his visual approach to the medium. Where in Hero his fight scenes were compelling highlight reels sliced samurai-thin into tidbits of captivating action, Flying Daggers' action is drawn out to reveal every nuance of movement; as a result, not only the visceral but the emotional intensity is drawn out, and makes for a singularly moving motion picture that manages to be epic and intimate at the same time.
Diverging slightly from his usual color palette of bold, broad strokes, Yimou uses his camera to create an impressionistic rather than expressionistic world, and again softens the emotional edges of the story in the process. Thankfully, the three leads are game for the task of giving their characters life, and demonstrate the archly dramatic (and frequently painful) bonds that are forged and broken. Ultimately, however, the film accomplishes many of the same things that Hero did: namely, to fulfill the promise of such ambitious projects as Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon by elevating martial arts to just plain art.
