REVIEW: ‘Come Drink With Me’ (1966)

COME DRINK WITH ME rates as one of, if not the greatest martial arts film of all time thanks to a combination of King Hu’s meticulous direction, Shaw Brothers’ ample resources and Cheng Pei-pei’s mesmerizing performance. This film really revolutionized the martial arts film genre at the time of its release by boosting the production standards and level of action. Although Shaw Brothers produced the film and went on to create dozens of outstanding martial arts films themselves with the likes of director Chang Cheh, King Hu gets full credit for this masterpiece.

The story doesn’t have as much punch today as it might have in 1966 since elements of it have resurfaced over and over again since but effectively casting a female in the lead is actually less common today then in the ’50 and ’60s era of Hong Kong. The ballet-trained Cheng Pei-pei was cast by Hu to play Golden Swallow, the twin short sword-wielding protagonist who is sent to free her brother, a government official, from the grasp of ruthless bandits. Their aim is to have their leader freed in exchange but Swallow lets them know in a famous teahouse fight that its not going to be played that way.

The opening battle is the film’s most memorable one. In a moment that has since been repeated in countless genre films, Cheng arrogantly displays her skills to a group of the bandits through several acts of supernatural ability. We soon learn that even her incredible skill is shadowed by an even greater hero who passes himself as a drunken beggar, as played by Yueh Hua.

Despite Yueh’s subsequent success as a martial arts star, he may have been miscast as the wizened drunkard. This was only his second film after MONKEY GOES WEST (1966) and even Cheng admits that the character was meant to be played by an older man. But Hu managed to get the best performance out of him. Two bottles of wine before each scene and another actor’s voice dubbing him helped to give the character more substance. Yueh becomes Cheng’s mentor and like so many films afterwards, she is drawn into a struggle between her master and a former associate with superior skills. The government’s attempt to stop the bandits becomes secondary to Cheng’s growth as a fighter and her mostly platonic relationship with the beggar.

In contrast to Yueh, Cheng anchors the film with her performance. Her dancing experience, which helped win the role also contributed to her fighting scenes. They are nothing short of spectacular. Hu makes a point of pulling back the camera to show completely unedited movements that are fluid and graceful. Cheng’s arresting beauty and solid acting performance clinches the role.

Cheng’s distinctive costumes deserve mention as they help to define the character. According to Cheng, Hu dressed her in long gowns and large hats to make up for disproportionately long legs and a small head. For whatever reason, she is stunning and easily ranks as one of the best dressed heroes in martial arts cinema.

Hu’s eye for detail extended not only to action and wardrobe but also to set design and cinematography. The film’s exterior scenes were shot in Hong Kong’s New Territories, much of it wilderness, and on SB’s lots where they constructed an entire temple for the film. Ornate interior sets were used for some outdoor locations but they possess an artistic quality to them that makes up for any loss of realism. The most noticeable aspect of the film visually, apart from Hu’s distinctive use of fog, is that distinctive Shaw color. The film is vibrant and in restored condition, almost looks like a new production. Hu would go on to favor stunning outdoor cinematography in independent films like A TOUCH OF ZEN and LEGEND OF THE MOUNTAIN.

Stunning camera movements, reminiscent of classical Japanese or Hollywood cinema are in full use here and look nothing like Mandarin or Cantonese film prior to COMM DRINK WITH ME. This was due to the exceptional cinematography of Tadashi Nishimoto, who had been one of several Japanese crew members recruited by Shaw Brothers earlier in the decade to enhance the visual quality of the studios’ Mandarin film output.

Another interesting aspect of the film is the nod to Chinese Opera that is often apparent in Hong Kong period films. The inclusion of several songs that Yueh Hua supposedly sings is not only entertaining but critical to defining his character and moving the story forward. The soundtrack incorporates a lot of percussion along with orchestral music, further hinting at older musical traditions. Since so many subsequent films of the ’70s used stock music or stolen clips from Western films, while modern films used synthesized scores, hearing an original orchestral score from this era on a Hong Kong film is quite refreshing. Some of the other elements such as Chen Hung-lieh’s painted face and the Peking Opera-style action are more subtle examples of Hu’s use of theater.

Given more freedom away from SB, Hu developed his keen sense of staid theatrics even further. Hu’s artistic sensibility definitely had an influence on some of Chang Cheh’s early swordplay masterpieces and arguably can be seen in the Gu Long adaptations of SB’s other top wuxia filmmaker Chor Yuen.

In essence COME DRINK WITH ME is a very theatrical production, one that contrasts sharply with the direction that Hong Kong took their action films after Bruce Lee and his realistic fighting became popular in the early ’70s. Yet, with an industry grounded so firmly in operatic roots, it wasn’t long before filmmakers like Tsui Hark and Ang Lee looked back on this King Hu classic for inspiration as evidenced in most of the swordplay films of the early ’90s and beyond. What is so intriguing is how beautiful this film remains, alongside overblown CGI films like THE DUEL (2000). For its level of influence and overall quality, this is perhaps the single most significant wuxia film in history. It must be seen if you count yourself a fan of the genre.