When I came across the title THE KNIGHT OF OLD CATHAY my first thought was that the title character must be a mascot for Cathay Films (aka MP & GI), once a major rival to Shaw Brothers studios until it ceased film production in 1970. But in reality the movie was not produced by Cathay and the word itself is actually a seldom used alternate term for China. The knight in this film would probably make a poor mascot for Cathay Films anyway seeing as how the role is filled by a man, whereas the studio was best known for its leading women.
Peter Yang Kwan stars as Na Wei-tsun, an orphaned swordsman who on the eve of his marriage to swordswoman Jyi-fung (Hon Seung-kam), discovers that his parents had been murdered years prior. He immediately sets out to find and slay the murderers. Jyi-fung is instructed by her father Lin Jin-kai (Ma Kei) to bring back Wei-tsun who also happens to be the old man’s pupil and ward.
After cutting down several men who participated in the slaughter of his family, Wei-tsun meets a one-armed man with a shocking story to tell about Jin-kai’s involvement in the death of his parents. Deeply troubled, Wei-tsun returns home with his equally troubled wife to face his master. Once the full truth is revealed Wei-tsun struggles to choose between revenge and filial piety towards his birth parents or forgiveness and loyalty to his sword master and father-in-law.
OLD CATHAY is a beautifully shot film with one of the best musical scores I have ever heard in a wuxia movie. The orchestral motif is entirely Western, yet fits the moody tone and slow pace of the movie perfectly.
Despite convincingly gruesome swordplay violence where heads and arms are graphically severed and faces slashed open, the film is more of a dramatic tear-jerker than actioner. Most of the limited fighting is present not to fill space with great fighting like most genre movies but to propel the story forward.
Much of the story relies on the inner struggle that grows in Peter Yang’s character. He does a great job of displaying this angst. His onscreen relationship to Hon Seung-kam is quite natural and relies on a surprising amount of nuance. This suggests that director Lee Sau has a strong grasp on shooting drama, more so than action.
The direction is quite refreshing for a wuxia film in that Lee keeps his actors restrained. He lets tension build up in much the same way that Segio Leone does in his DOLLARS trilogy through close ups and drawn out standoffs. The difference is that his characters actually possess layers of personality unlike Leone’s intentionally shadow caricatures. The best example of this is in a teahouse scene. In most wuxia movies a fight or show of skill erupts in a teahouse. But Lee does the unexpected by internalizing the typical exchange with mere glances. It becomes a prelude to the actual fight which instead takes place later outside.
Another sign of Lee’s skill as a director is his sophisticated use of layered flashbacks to gradually reveal plot details to the audience as the lead character learns about his past. Flashbacks are like clichés in writing and are generally frowned upon unless used extremely well. Most genre filmmakers in Taiwan and Hong Kong use flashbacks on a very basic level. One other exception is found in Chu Yuan’s INTIMATE CONFESSIONS OF A CHINESE COURTESAN.
The problem with OLD CATHAY is that it relies too heavily on the lead character’s inner turmoil and it’s handled in a very old fashioned and simplistic way. It may have worked for local audiences in 1968, but not today. This makes it very difficult for jaded modern audiences to invest any emotion into the weepy drama, thereby effectively killing the genuine poignancy the director strives to achieve at the end. The film does have a final duel, but it will be a major letdown for anyone expecting an exciting action finale. So while technically this wuxia drama is very well made and features an outstanding score, its limited action and ponderous melodrama makes it difficult to enjoy when better examples of both can be found in more recent productions ranging from Patrick Tam’s THE SWORD to Zhang Yimou’s HERO.
by Mark Pollard