The Sword (1980) A King Hu-like Martial Arts Rarity

Sound, particularly music, is such a key component of movies. It is pivotal in creating an era, atmosphere, tension, and emotions to the extent that a great deal of the work in a horror movie comes from effective scoring and sound design. Key word there: effective. See, anachronistic music and scoring is an entirely different bag of worms—it can sink an entire production, undoing all the potential good work that others have produced elsewhere. And then there’s Hong Kong cinema, the antithesis to so many status quos. Take a movie that’ll never see the light of day on physical media in the West, The Master of the Flying Guillotine. The soundtrack to that cult wonder features krautrock legends Neu in a series of scenes that are among the coolest these eyes have ever seen. It’s alien, but it works so very well because of it. Patrick Tam’s The Sword, which is out now on Eureka Blu-Ray, is exactly the same. But instead of less-than-legally licensed music, there’s an original score by Hong Kong legend Joseph Koo that is similarly striking as the aforementioned Flying Guillotine. We are talking about synths in a kung fu movie. This creative decision instills an atmosphere so unique that it’ll stay with me for an awfully long time. While synth might be a tired cliché of retro-fetishist horror, in kung fu cinema, this is a breath of fresh air.

Similarly sashaying away from convention is the cast and very small scale of events, which draws comparisons in an on-disc interview (with Andrew Heskins) to the work of King Hu—a conclusion I’d happily co-sign. Legendary swordsman Hua Qian Shu (Tien Feng) comes into ownership of a cursed sword in the cold open. Afterward, we jump forward in time and switch protagonists, focusing on the talented young swordsman Li Mak-jan (Adam Cheng), who is but the latest in a long line of martial artists seeking to test their skill against the legendary swordsman. On his journey to find the now-reclusive master, the young swordsman encounters new rivals, old friends, former flames, and a mysterious young woman wandering the countryside. It wouldn’t be much of a movie if he didn’t find the reclusive master and his cursed sword and once he does, he realizes that fame and infamy are a double-edged sword in the martial world.

Many movies from Shaw Brothers, Golden Harvest, Taiwan, and the smaller studios have similar concepts. The difference here is that there’s both a humanist edge and many roles are filled with women. Let’s go further: strong, individualistic women with agency. Both points make The Sword comparable to the work of King Hu, but let’s address the humanist edge first. His movies had very little fighting compared to the traditional genre movie. Violence was a last resort, with scripts opting to value characters over bombastic theatrics. This translates into The Sword being one of the few peak-era martial arts movies (with a historical lens) where death carries emotions with more complexity than simple motivation for the next fight.

Onto the female cast: typically, in martial arts cinema, they are love interests, mothers, or sisters, and very rarely fleshed-out characters. More often than not, they are just objects to be fought over. There are three major roles for women here, and each of them has a value system that informs some of the more interesting and tragic developments in the third act (which I won’t go into, as prior to this release, The Sword was a very rare movie in the UK). One development that I will touch upon, however, is domestic abuse. In Hong Kong and Chinese martial arts cinema, domestic abuse is often played for a cheap gag, which has always felt like one of the ickier tenets of being a fan of this type of movie. Yet, here in The Sword, it is played straight, and the difference is sobering.

I have buried the lead somewhat here: this is a martial arts movie (wuxia), one whose significance cannot be understated. In 1980, Golden Harvest had all but cemented its place at the top of the Hong Kong hierarchy, and Shaw Brothers was a fast fading force. Yet the thing that made Raymond Chow’s upstart company successful was modern action movies for modern audiences. Historical action had no place in this new status quo, but that’s not to say there wasn’t room for one final wave of these movies before modern titles took total domination. Among that wave, The Sword was a pivotal text. This is partly due to the style and cinematography—a common trait of filmmakers in the Hong Kong New Wave—that is leagues ahead of the factory-processed titles these studios produced. I’d like to think it’s also partly due to the quality of the action.

Although too occasional, we have Adam Cheng, Norman Chu, and Eddy Ko at the height of their powers. If their names are unfamiliar, they have featured heavily in stone-cold classics like Zu Warriors from the Magic Mountain, Duel to the Death, 36th Chamber of Shaolin, Heroes Shed No Tears, Peacock King… and Lethal Weapon 4. There’s considerable talent on display here, especially with the iconic Tien Feng onboard, one of the most recognizable and legendary faces of Hong Kong cinema. He’s been in everything. The fights are consistent, furious, energetic, and varied. What’s more, it’s never immediately obvious who is going to win and how, thanks to the tragic streak sewn into the script. My only negative takeaway from the action in The Sword is the finishing blow in the final fight. It’s so quick I had to rewind it a few times to make sure I saw what I thought I did. Thankfully, this is the Blu-ray age, so there’s no real issue there even if it slighten lessens immersion.

It’s wonderful to have the work of Patrick Tam available on Blu-ray. He brings a rare level of consideration and artistry to traditional Chinese genre movies, elevating them above the rabble. I’ve said in older reviews that King Hu presents a blast of air to blow the cobwebs away when you think you’ve seen too many movies, and there’s great value in being that palate cleanser – a trait that patrick Tam has in his work too. As for Eureka’s release of this lost classic, the print is solid if unspectacular, thanks to the amount of noise on screen, which is especially noticeable in any low-light scene. The extras, while minimal, are generous for this type of movie. Usually, it’s a journalist commentary track (often Frank Djeng), and that’s about it besides a few archival interviews. However, The Sword includes those and the aforementioned piece with Andrew Heskins, along with a similar piece with Wayne Wong. Closing out this limited-run release is some beautiful box art by Grégory Sacré (Gokaiju) and a booklet with a new essay by East Asian cinema expert Leung Wing-Fai.

Rob’s Archive – The Sword