During the Yuan Dynasty, a band of Han rebels in disguise converge at an inn out in a desolate Western province to await the arrival of Mongol warlord Lee Khan in order to intercept the delivery of a military war map.
The Fate of Lee Khan is a star-studded masterwork of wuxia filmmaking from King Hu, the celebrated director of Come Drink with Me and A Touch of Zen. Shot side by side with his last great film The Valiant Ones (1975), Lee Khan continues Hu’s meticulous refinement of the engaging storytelling, production design and brilliant direction within the swordplay genre that had catapulted him far ahead of his peers. The film further reaches a state of near perfection with fine, early martial arts choreography from Sammo Hung and a very strong female cast led by veteran actress Li Li-hua and leading kung fu queen Angela Mao.
Lee Khan is similar in many ways to Hu’s Dragon Gate Inn (1967). Both take place at an isolated inn out in the “sticks” and center on growing tension among patrons and employees who possess hidden agendas. But this time, Hu goes further back in time to the Yuan Dynasty where the Han people fought to expel occupying Mongol invaders. Nearly the entire story takes place in the Spring Inn run by Wendy (Li Li-hua), a Han rebel who has recruited four feisty women with shady pasts and a hatred for Mongols to pose as waitresses while awaiting orders. Word arrives that the region’s chief Mongol warlord Lee Khan (Tin Fung) is likely coming to the inn in order to receive a valuable war map from a Chinese traitor. Two more rebels in disguise arrive to help, but Mongol spies intent on uncovering any trouble are everywhere and the rebels are forced into a dangerous game of deception. The stakes only get immeasurably higher when Lee Khan and his sister (Hsu Feng) arrive. Despite the Mongol’s growing suspicions and brutal methods, the rebels are forced to bide their time for the right moment to strike.
Like Hu’s previous wuxia films, Lee Khan is in a league of its own. No other Chinese filmmaker has come closer to balancing drama, action and style the way Akira Kurosawa had. Hu uses the inn’s main interior, which is basically the only set, to the fullest. In the first half, the inn is full of patrons eating, drinking and gambling as we’re introduced to the main players in colorful fashion. Li Li-hua is definitely the boss, a strong woman who ably handles her rough-around-the-edges waitresses and a gullible local Magistrate with equal aplomb. Angela Mao is a former pickpocket who has hard time giving up old habits. Helen Ma is a former bandit with a chip on her shoulder. Woo Gam is the charmer and Seung Goon Yin-ngai, the con artist. Regular players in King Hu’s films make up the rest of the main cast. This includes Pai Ying as a scholarly rebel, Han Ying-chieh as a singing and fiercely-fighting rebel, Roy Chiao as a Mongol strongman, and Hsu Feng who puts her bone-chilling gaze to work as Lee Khan’s sister. As the title villain, Tin Fung delivers an excellent performance as an intelligent and resourceful villain who matches wits and martial arts with his opponents.
There isn’t a huge amount of combat in the film, but Hu’s great ability to turn up dramatic tension as a lead in to battle makes these few scenes so much better than your standard Hong Kong “hackery.” Hu applies his artist’s mind to the fighting and it’s not surprising that non-martial arts-oriented filmmakers like Tsui Hark, Ang Lee and Zhang Yimou have in more recent years drawn so heavily on his work. Sammo Hung’s choreography is very good for its day. As kung fu movies had become the hot new thing by 1973, Sammo mixes in some good open-hand techniques along with the usual swordplay. Trampolines, stylized trick editing and doubles are used for a number of fight scenes. This aspect of the action has been improved on since, but there’s still no replacing performers like Angela Mao. Hu doesn’t lavish the same attention on Angela as he did with Cheng Pei-pei, but she’s the most physically able of the cast and I sense Sammo’s hand in getting her fighting moves more prominently featured when possible. By this point, Sammo had already worked with Angela on a number of her breakout kung fu movies including Hapkido (1972) and When Taekwondo Strikes (1973).
Hu’s contribution to the female warrior image in this film should not be understated. First, his costuming for the women is strikingly bold compared with everyone else. The exception is Lee Khan in his red Mongol robes. I see this as Hu visually putting the women on the same level with Lee. Also, none of them are victims. Some of them may end up dying along with the men, but they go down fighting. Ultimately, it’s the way in which Hu frames the women with flattering angles that not only shows them at their best, but also lends them an added air of power and authority. In contrast, the male heroes are in more of a supporting role.
The Fate of Lee Khan is extremely rewarding and well shot from start to finish. In sometimes humorous fashion, Hu takes the time to establish the characters and the environment that surrounds them before plunging into the main confrontation. The tension that he builds is genuine and for once, it’s not hard to get emotionally wrapped up in the plight of martial heroes. It’s difficult to know who will live or die and Hu keeps the stakes high. For anyone looking for a more artful and dramatically engaging martial arts film along the lines of Hero, I cannot recommend this enough.
by Mark Pollard
