Tai Seng’s pre-release copy of The Tai Chi Master sat in my stack of incoming DVDs for sometime before I realized that it wasn’t a reissue of Yuen Wo-ping’s 1993 movie of the same name (also released by Tai Seng) and starring Jet Li, but rather an edited version of Yuen Wo-ping’s Master of Tai Chi television series starring Wu Jing. This oversight is unforgivable for it turns out that this series happens to be absolutely outstanding. Wu Jing, in his first television series after breaking onto the martial arts movie scene in Tai Chi II (1995), magnificently leads a superb cast of highly skilled screen-fighting actors in an exciting production to rival any Chinese movie. And the kung fu? The kung fu is bliss. Elegance, power, clarity, and precision that never ceases to amaze.
The Tai Chi Master tells the story of Yang Yu-qian ( also spelled Yang Lu-chan), Qing-era founder of the Yang style of Tai Chi, during the years where he mastered this style before founding a school. This 2005 release is a two-hour movie, edited from 25 original episodes of the Master of Tai Chi television series. Wu Jing, whose abilities are greatly missed on the international stage, delivers a brilliant performance as a young Yu-qian.
After learning about a powerful style of kung fu known as Tai Chi and only taught to members of the Chan family, kung fu practitioner Yu-qian sneaks into the training area in disguise to watch the clan master, Chan Ching-ying (Yue Hoi) at work. He inadvertently befriends Chan’s cross-dressing daughter (Amy Fan) and gains her help in continuing to learn the style. When Master Chan is assaulted by servants of a Qing lord (Billy Chow) who is obsessed with besting Tai Chi, Yu-qian comes to his rescue and in doing so, gains recognition as the first outsider to be accepted as a pupil. As pressure increases on Master Chan to fight with the lord, Yu-qian puts his newfound kung fu expertise to use in a multi-level, pagoda-style match arranged by a Qing princess who is attracted to him. After Master Chan is forced into accepting a death match with the lord, Yu-qian steps in to fight in his place.
Chinese television series may be where most of the martial arts action has been taking place since the mid-’90s, but the quality is generally sub-standard with rushed shooting schedules, stock footage used, non-martial artists starring, and sappy soap opera drama geared more for aging housewives than your average genre fan. Yuen Wo-ping and fellow directors Yip Chiu-yee and Lee Kin-wu beat the tar out of this preconception with a series that effectively transplants the Yuen style of kung fu action to the small screen and delivers everything else on a similarly high level of excellence. But what is so amazing is that I daresay, Master Yuen and brother Yuen Cheung-yan have outdone all of their previous work.
When it comes to the kung fu action the brothers Yuen have provided a textbook on screen fighting excellence. Every single fight scene, many of them long, are exceptional and without fault. They have found the perfect blend of old school and wire fu and advanced the kind of action seen in the likes of Iron Monkey to new levels. The line between the two styles shifts back and forth slightly, but never goes astray. Even the pagoda scene that could have become a cheap rip off of Bruce Lee’s Game of Death takes on a life of its own. Lee might have disagreed with the subversion of his theme on adapting to the fighter, but tai chi has never looked so good when set against a pure strength, stick fighting, drunken boxing, and even a female ninja. And arguably, the Yuen’s uphold the spirit of Lee’s vision by showing how a practitioner could use an internal style to adapt to different fighters, rather than an external one.
I’m no expert on tai chi, but this mostly internal style is chiefly about turning an opponent’s strength against them in regards to combat and The Tai Chi Master shows this in ways that will make anyone who cares cry tears of joy. The whole idea of “sticking” to your opponent and deflating their attack strength is repeatedly illustrated in jaw-dropping scenes where Wu Jing gracefully floors one opponent after another as he exploits joints and glides in with elbow attacks and throws. The Yuen brothers just make this more authentic action better by dropping it in dramatic settings like an arena filled with swords dangling from string and adding their patented wire work and playful camera work.
It really helps to have competent screen fighters and this series has plenty, including a few recognizable big screen stars. Wu Jing excels in his role, delivering beautiful execution of Tai Chi forms and acting with an easy charm. He mostly missed out on the ’90s kung fu movie boom in Hong Kong, but here shows why he has become the heir apparent to superstar Jet Li. Yue Hoi, a champion martial artist and one of Mainland China’s finest screen stars who has been at since Shaolin Temple (1982), performs like a man half his age. This veteran will probably never receive the kind of international recognition that he deserves, but at least we get to see him in this role, where he gets to show his lighter side with some comical bathtub kung fu, in addition to the wonderful fighting he performs. Though playing a villain of weak spirit, Billy Chow of Fist of Legend fame shows that he’s quite strong when it comes to fighting fierce. Shaw Brothers devotees will even get a chance to glimpse at screen-fighting veteran Kara Hui (My Young Auntie). Unfortunately, her screen time appears to have been cut short in this version. The rest of the cast appears to be filled out by a mix of veteran television stars and wushu artists.
Great kung fu alone makes The Tai Chi Master essential viewing, but everything else matches this level of quality. As for this version, Frank Djeng and his cohorts at Tai Seng (for whom I am ever so grateful) have done a fine job of editing this series into a two-hour movie. The pace is understandably a little too fast moving and the characters a bit underdeveloped. Yet these are small gripes. Anyone interested in the full series can pick it up non-subtitled on VCD. This, however, is a welcome chance to see Chinese television production and kung fu screen fighting at their best and in a form where you can actually follow along.
by Mark Pollard
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