Review: The Assassin
Your eyes may bleed from the overabundance of beauty in The Assassin, Taiwanese director Hsiao-Hsien Hou's long-gestating foray into the wuxia genre. Martial-arts cinema and, more specifically, historical martial-arts epics, have long been the province of Asian filmmakers. Loosely adapted from Asian literature, wuxia films date as far back as the 1920s, coming into prominence during the Sixties and Seventies with popular films produced by King Hu and the Shaw Brothers Studio, and more recently embraced by such auteurs as Ang Lee (Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon), Zhang Yimou (Hero, House of Flying Daggers), and Wong Kar-wai (The Grandmaster).
Hou is the unlikeliest of directors to delve into the genre, considering his filmography has been predominantly comprised of realist narratives. The Assassin is a surprising effort in many ways, at once a subversion and a continuation of the genre. Hou is not interested in the usual trademarks of the genre - there are no extended fight scenes, for example, nor is there astonishing feats of gravity-defying physicality such as the bamboo forest scenes in both Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and House of Flying Daggers - but he is taken with the intricate dance between actors and space within the frame. Stillness and silence reign in The Assassin. The film's tone is measured, its compositions rigorous, and its narrative opaque and confusing.
The story is set in 9th century China, at the beginning of the decline of the Tang Dynasty. The Imperial Court and the powerful Weibo military province share a volatile accord. Yinniang (Qi Shu) has returned to her parents after an indeterminate period of absence during which she has been trained to become a deadly assassin by the "princess-nun" Jiaxin (Fang-yi Sheu). The homecoming is a punishment from Jiaxin, who intends to strengthen her protégée's resolve by ordering her to kill the ruler Lord Tian (Chen Chang). As the opening prologue revealed, Yinniang is matchless in her skill - she slits a man's throat with all the quickness of a cobra strike - but is leeched of her ruthlessness when the presence of a young boy prevents her from murdering another intended target.
Her latest assignment is no less complicated. Lord Tian was once her betrothed; their alliance was meant to maintain the peace between Weibo and the Court before her mother betrayed the pact by sending her away. Lord Tian is a man beset with imperial intrigue, both political (the increasingly unstable truce) and personal (a wife jealous of his favourite concubine, who has become pregnant with his child). One then wonders if Yinniang will follow her heart or uphold her creed.
Hou presents us with one ravishing scene after another, offering each frame like pearls in a magnificently constructed necklace. Immaculate in detail and painterly in execution, the film is an extravagant swirl of colour, texture, and fabric. Cinematographer Mark Lee Ping Bing barely moves the camera - there is many an instance when the film appears to have been paused - content to luxuriously linger on the almost calligraphic fluidity of the bodies as they move through forests or curtains or fields or rooftops. There are static long takes that observe a woman playing a zither or Yianning perched in the rafters or simply standing, her face impassive and inscrutable. The loveliest and most evocative scene may be an exchange between Lord Tian and his concubine. Filmed through a softly whispering curtain, Lee creates a sensual intimacy that silkily dissolves into the heart-stopping when the razor-sharp editing reveals Yinniang in the shadows.
For all its rapturous opulence, The Assassin can test the audience's patience with its deliberate, almost submerged, pacing. The fight scenes are few and far between and, when they do arrive, are expertly choreographed and rendered with brutal efficiency. Though this may deprive the audience of their anticipated spectacle, Hou's tactic hews close to an assassin's methodology - Yianning hardly wastes a breath or move. Hou's direction is supremely assured and so painstaking and extreme in mise-en-scène that one suspects he directed the trees, clouds, and mist as well.
The Assassin
Directed by: Hsiao-Hsien Hou
Written by: Zhong Acheng, T'ien-wen Chu, Hsiao-Hsien Hou, Hai-Meng Hsieh; from a short story by Xing Pei
Starring: Chen Chang, Qi Shu, Fang-yi Sheu, Yun Zhou, Dahong Ni
