Like much of actor-choreographer-director Sammo Hung’s work behind the camera, 1987’s Eastern Condors is a collision of disparate tones held together through sheer force of will. During the Vietnam War, a group of Chinese prisoners get a chance at parole and American citizenship if they undertake a secret mission to destroy a cache of weapons before they can fall into the hands of the Viet Cong. This sets up a standard war movie abundant in heroic sacrifice, last-stand shootouts, and archetype characters, but Hung brings his martial arts expertise and propensity for slapstick to a film otherwise keyed to the tragic human waste of war.
Proof of the influence that Hung, who stars in the film as Tung Ming-sun, wielded within the Hong Kong industry, the members of the ad hoc suicide squad at the film’s center are played by a who’s-who of stars and character actors, among them Yuen Woo-ping, Charlie Chin, Corey Yuen, and Lam Ching-ying (who plays the unit’s officer liaison Lieutenant Colonel Lam). Eventually, the group expands to include embedded collaborators in South Vietnam, Kiet (Yuen Biao) and his uncle Yeung-lung (Haing S. Ngor), as well as a trio of female Cambodian guerillas (Joyce Godenzi, Chui-Man-yan, and Ha Chi-chun). The cast’s extensive backgrounds in martial arts, acrobatics, and other performing arts informs much of the film’s action, which mixes gun violence with thrillingly choreographed hand-to-hand and wire-fu combat.
In fact, for the film’s first half, gunfire is rarely heard, with the heroes having to resort to close-quarters combat in order to stealthily dispatch their North Vietnamese adversaries. Hung whips up some iconic images amid the fray—none more so than a shot of Godenzi’s guerilla hanging in mid-air in a flying kick before her foot collides with a soldier—but he also captures a brutality rarely seen in his more comedic fare. Knives cut gashes into people’s bodies, which are prone to being thrown to the ground with sickening force, and in one haunting long shot, Hung’s Tung uses a machete to behead a pursuer with almost lackadaisical ease. But there are also small grace notes of Peking Opera acrobatics, such as Biao’s Kiet sneaking out of a Viet Cong prison with a front roll over a dock that ends in an elegant, almost noiseless drop into the river below.
When the members of the unit are found out, Eastern Condors shifts into an all-out war movie, complete with blatant nods to touchstones of the genre like Michael Cimino’s The Deer Hunter. Characters are cut down with the same dispassionate matter-of-factness with which they earlier took out the North Vietnamese fighters. “At least I die in the East instead of the West,” remarks one character after running afoul of a machine gun nest, taking mordant comfort out of dying closer to his homeland than he would have rotting in an American prison.
The bleakness extends to the climax, in which internecine fights break out among the surviving infiltrators even as they must still contend with waves of enemy soldiers. Some of the violence that occurs between erstwhile allies is as grisly and shocking as that which they deal out to enemies, and the few who emerge alive at the end take no hint of victory or even relief from doing so. This is Hung’s least characteristic directorial effort, yet also one of his strongest, putting all his comic timing toward hitting each despairing note at just the right moment.
Image/Sound
Criterion’s transfer comes from a 2K restoration that maximizes the verdant greens of the jungle and the splashes of prop blood that spurt out of bullet and knife wounds. Detail is so clear that one can gauge such minute nuances as the roughness of military uniform fabrics or the accumulating mud and filth on the heroes’ outfits. The mono soundtrack ably balances dialogue with the boisterous gunfire and explosion effects and the (often ironic) rousing war film score.
Extras
Criterion’s disc supplements the original Hong Kong cut with an English-dubbed “export” version prepared for the international market with alternate scenes; surprisingly, this transfer of cut also comes from a 2K restoration and offers an image quality comparable to that of the domestic version. Also included is a typically in-depth commentary by critic Tony Rayns, as well a new interview with Sammo Hung, who discusses his career from his apprenticeship in the Peking Opera to his work as an actor and director. Rounding out the disc are archival interviews with Hung and actor Yuen Wah, as well as a fascinating clip of a stage version of the film performed at the 1987 Miss Hong Kong beauty pageant. The accompanying booklet contains an essay by critic Sean Gilman, who thoroughly delves into the backgrounds of Hung and a number of the film’s other stars, as well as analyzes the film’s unorthodox blend of severe drama, intricate choreography, and moments of unexpected (but trademark Hung) humor.
Overall
Sammo Hung’s bleak but balletic war film from 1987 gets a lush A/V transfer and some substantive extras from the Criterion Collection.
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