In the Flesh: Magnificent Warriors

Does David Chung’s Magnificent Warriors suffer from pacing problems? Undoubtedly. It is built on a thick bedrock of Chinese nationalism, making it a kind of sister film to the gung-ho American cop and spy flicks of the 1990s? Yes. For sure. Is it effectively a low-budget Indiana Jones movie crudely welded to the Battle of Helm’s Deep sequence from The Two Towers? Also yes. But lastly and most importantly, does it slap? The answer is a resounding yes. Watching the incredibly adorable and charming Michelle Yeoh swing a hammer on a rope at death-defying speeds while executing complex kung fu choreography in an environment full of moving scenery is enough to sell the whole thing lock, stock and barrel. Throw in the dashing Derek Yee Tung-Sing as Secret Agent 001 and Richard Ng Yiu-hon as a slippery, hilarious con-man with a heart of gold and in the immortal words of Carl Weathers, baby, you’ve got a stew going.

The fight choreography is unquestionably the main attraction here. When Chung is focused on action he displays a preternatural flair for building a sense of space as conflict unfolds within it, cutting back and forth around the fighters to give the viewer a feel for the scale and context of the fight at hand. Nothing is reused, either; every fight is fresh and novel, full of unexpected flourishes, slapstick, and tension. Alliances are broken, rivalries developed, relationships sketched out within the space of these electrifying sequences, and if the stuff in between sometimes runs overlong or sags, it’s a small price to pay for experiencing that kind of magic. Even the outsize and somewhat absurdly staged final action sequence in which the Japanese army mounts an assault on the city of Kaa Yi, very visibly made of canvas and clapboard, the wonder of seeing the whole thing go up in flames and smoke is no less for the plainness of its artifice. Chung isn’t trying to fool you; he’s trying to thrill you.

Magnificent Warriors’ one real weakness is that it doesn’t place enough trust in Michelle Yeoh’s star power. Had it leaned on her as heavily as Jackie Chan’s early films did on him, it might have come off stronger for it. She can mug, she can fight, she can project heat and lethality, but too often Chung cuts away to his wider ensemble and involves us in subplots featuring less interesting versions of her character doing things she would have done an order of magnitude better. Where’s her love story? Where’s her final showdown with her nemesis? By the time the credits roll you’re left wishing there were fifty sequels, something where she could really cut loose. Chung’s film excels in spite of its weaknesses and its derivative nature, but it could have been so much more than merely fun and exciting.