King of Kings (1969)

KING OF KINGS is one of a handful of early wuxia titles from noted Taiwanese martial arts filmmaker Joseph Kuo, best known in the west for producing and directing a number of classic kung fu hits including THE SEVEN GRANDMASTERS and THE MYSTERY OF CHESS BOXING. Although this film is definitely up to Kuo’s typically high standards, KING OF KINGS is less a representation of his style of filmmaking and more of an example of the brief, late-1960s boom of epic wuxia movies spurred by the breakout success of filmmakers King Hu and Chang Cheh.

One thing Kuo never excelled at was originality, but he usually managed to make better knockoffs of leading studio hits than most of his indie peers. In action and storytelling, KING OF KINGS is conventional for the era, but well made and generally entertaining despite a number of flaws.

It rehashes the popular theme of orphaned children growing up in the martial world with the sole mission to avenge the death of a father figure at the hands of a rival master.

During the Tang Dynasty, a martial arts competition is held to determine who will earn the position of the country’s chief security escort. After a series of deadly bouts, a winner (Ma Kei) is crowned, but the infamous “Thunder Sword” shows up and slays him in a final match before mysteriously running off. The deceased swordsman’s two adolescent pupils, a boy named Siao Tung and a girl named Siao Chung, vow to get revenge but are separated and sent to live with different sword masters.

Years later, a fully grown and highly skilled Siao Tung (Peter Yang Kwan) has become the terror of the martial world. He’s now not-so-affectionately known as the “Man Killer,” a swordsman so determined to find and kill the man responsible for his master’s death that he’s cutting his way through anyone he even suspects may be Thunder Sword. This leads to an unintentionally humorous scenario where Siao Tung discovers too late that one of his victims is the “Thunder Sabre.”

After his sword it banged up following several matches, Siao Tung seeks out the Devil Blacksmith. Contrary to the sinister name, this swordsmith is a wise and noble elder who tries unsuccessfully to convince Siao Tung to turn away from the “dark side.”

While his sword is being repaired, Siao Tung comes to the rescue of an innkeeper’s daughter by fending off a local bully and his gang with nothing but open-hand techniques. The young woman predictably falls in love with him, but Siao Tung only has eyes for killing.

Meanwhile, Siao Tung’s childhood companion Siao Chun (Cheung Ching-ching) finally re-enters the picture dressed as a man and with skills rivaling Tung. Not recognizing each other, the two briefly tangle in a test of skill in a teahouse. Sensing a kindred spirit, Tung backs down following a series of feats by Chun that includes nailing a sword to a wall with chopsticks and picking up a dinner table with one hand.

Once he gets his sword back, Tung continues to challenge various swordsmen but becomes increasingly tormented by the uncontrollable hatred that compels him to strike his opponents first and ask questions later. Tung eventually gets a tip on the whereabouts of the real Thunder Sword, but he’s in for a big surprise when he discovers out who it is.

Per usual, the story is simplistic in its execution, especially by today’s standards. However, the drama that develops in the evolving relationship between the Devil Blacksmith and Siao Tung is surprisingly meaningful. Even though the available English translation mangles some of the dialogue, it’s evident that the script has some sharp literary leanings with a Confucian flavor. A great example is when in one concise sentence the Devil Blacksmith compares Siao Tung to a weapon made of good material, yet lacking in refinement. The same could be said of the whole movie.

There is a large amount of action on display, particularly in the first half. The choreography style is typical of the times. There is virtually no wire use, but there is a lot of trampoline-powered leaping, stylized posing reminiscent of Japanese chambara, unsophisticated trick editing, and noticeable undercranking. It’s dated stuff, but the sparring is still unusually complex and makes me wonder who was responsible for it.

The best fight occurs when Peter Yang battles a gang of sword-wielding thugs with his bare hands. He uses a series of disarming techniques and smooth evasions simultaneously against multiple opponents. It’s a long sequence with long takes involving an impressive series of dynamic, group movements. I would recommend the movie for this scene alone.

Unfortunately, the many sword duels, while nicely choreographed and executed, grow monotonous for lacking the creativity and symbolism that Shaw Brothers movies like HAVE SWORD, WILL TRAVEL offered.

The production is excellent in places and mediocre in others. I suspect the cinematographer and his equipment was imported from Japan because the film is shot with sophisticated techniques rarely seen in Taiwanese or Hong Kong filmmaking. There are very smooth zooms, track panning, angled crane shots, and transitional wipes often seen in the works of Akira Kurosawa. The film’s color palate appears intentionally muted, unlike most Chinese period productions that are drowned in gaudy colors. Costumes are above average also and reminiscent of the clothing used in King Hu’s films.

The film uses a very common theme song repeatedly. It’s a song I have yet to identify, but I hear it about as often in Chinese martial arts movies as I hear the folk tune “On the General’s Orders,” which has become the unofficial theme song for any Wong Fei-hung movie.