|
Against the Indiana Jones imperialism, the inclusiveness of John Carpenter's East-West jamboree. "Only a dream can kill a dream." San Francisco has plenty of magic if you know where to look, the tour guide (Victor Wong) gives a little taste of it by summoning a miniature lighting bolt for a disbelieving audience, the rest is pure play. The CB jockey (Kurt Russell) thinks he's John Wayne when he's really bumbling sidekick to the Chinatown restauranteur (Dennis Dun) with a kidnapped, emerald-eyed bride (Suzee Pai). An early chase gives a pellucid view of the city and a detour into a misty alley locates the overflowing cauldron of genres within, a melee rages on until a trio of wire-fu divinities materialize to slice and dice through the warring triads. "I'm a reasonable guy, but I've just experienced some very unreasonable things." Hodges' Flash Gordon informs the guises of the villain (James Hong) as pissy Methuselah and resplendent Ming yearning to be made flesh, meanwhile the plucky attorney (Kim Cattrall) breezes through as Jean Arthur from Only Angels Have Wings. The descent in the warehouse leads to "the Hell of Upside-Down Sinners" ("The Chinese have a lot of Hells"), a skull shrine with neon outlines summarizes Carpenter's amalgamation of form. Bountiful W.D. Richter jokes, effervescent monsters and synthesizers, a spectacular emulation of Hong Kong filmmaking. (Chang Cheh and Tsui Hark are the cornerstones, the balance of stylistic command and unbridled mayhem rather evokes Lang's Indian epics.) "There's Buddhism, Confucianism and Taoism, alchemy and sorcery," cf. Dalí's Tuna Fishing, "huge buzz." Reaganesque bellicosity is knocked out by its own machine-gun, the ride into the sunset has an ogre in the trunk. "We really shook the walls of Heaven, didn't we?" A film to embody the Eighties, and justify them. With Kate Burton, Donald Li, Carter Wong, Peter Kwong, and James Pax.
--- Fernando F. Croce |