Ying xiong

Rating: 8/10 (3 August 2016)

Hero is concerned not only with physical prowess and ability, but also the battles that occur within the mind. The entire film then takes place solely within the confines of the king of Qin's palace, and they are trading stories, not blows. Like in Rashomon, they are fighting for their own version of the story, attempting to gain an upper hand in the proceedings. And within these stories there are also mental battles; Long Sky and Nameless' initial clash is in their imagination, a vicious one-on-one muted in grey-scale. They are like chess grandmasters, with each blow calculated and bringing infinite possibilities and outcomes, so that the fight is over before it has begun. Their mastery of the art of swordfighting makes this possible.
The choreography of Hero is in the wuxia style, which has been codified over time so that Western audiences may also come to appreciate and know its art. Masters of the style float over long distances as if they are suspended by strings, barely needing to touch the ground before they gracefully float away again (affectionately dubbed 'wire-fu'). When they fight their movements are so ferociously fluid that they whip up leaves into tornadoes, which curl around the characters themselves. Zhang Yimou is concerned with form as much as he is with function; Flying Snow does not merely repel, but dances amongst the rain of arrows, and the writers inside are painting with ink as red as blood, also fiercely devoted to their craft. Consider this: Broken Sword derives his mastery of swordplay from the strokes of his calligraphy. Or is it the other way around?
The prominent art of Christopher Doyle is also on display. He begins with an initial dreary grey, a drabness to the present day story. This allows for the sharp contrast of the stories the two men tell, which are each punctuated strongly with their own colour code. There are a many number of possibilities and interpretations here. I was shocked by the vividness of the red ink, and its likeness to the blood shed by the diligent students of calligraphy. In the demonstration of the 10 pace killing technique Doyle and Yimou find beauty and tranquility in the cool blues, the apt slow motion, the little dink of the sound design as the cup lands on the sword. The blade is shown to be as ferocious as it is gentle. Robed in white, he reveals a purer technique, a strike of such surgical precision magnified in the shallow focus and slow motion. Yimou uses the latter well, cutting judiciously from serenity to furious motion, assuming the perspective of these masters who move and see at a different speed level. They whip their blades which such strength that they the metal bends and groans to their touch.
The king tells his story with such passion and understanding. In his version, Flying Snow and Broken Sword are lovers so desperate to take the fall for each other they must resort to fighting for that honour. It is a tragic love story, more so than the apparent truth. This also points to the king's understanding of the nature of sacrifice; he is able to imagine the sorrow and grief of a sword twisted just enough to wound but not to kill, and that sword being beaten to save the life of another. So he is also able to recognise the greatest sacrifice of them all, and that sometimes the greatest warrior is the one who lays down their sword. So in the end it is indeed tranquility that wins out.