Not to be confused with the insane Jimmy Wang Yu production, the slick 1974 Shaw Brothers offering The Flying Guillotine is much more grounded in reality; as grounded as anything involving flying guillotines, anyhow. Legend has it the eponymous weapon was utilized by Imperial assassins in the Qing dynasty, specifically during Yongzheng’s reign between 1722 and 1735. All period evidence that remains consists of crude drawings and scattered bits of folklore. Needless to say, no actual flying guillotines have been recovered, but that didn’t stop the Chinese film industry from reviving them for a brief heyday in the mid-70s.

Our story involves the usual Manchurian oppression of the simple, hardworking lower class, and the typical pining for the bygone glory days of the Ming and Han dynasties. Any chop-socky fan worth his salt will take this meat-and-potatoes setup as a given, but director Meng Hua Ho must ensure no member of the audience is left behind:

We immediately cut to a scene in the Imperial throne room, where two humble Lords plead for the ethical and fair treatment of the working class. Yongzheng will have none of it! Summoning forth faithful retainer Xin Kang, played by Shaw Brothers regular Feng Ku, the gleefully evil emperor orders his subordinate to devise a way to assassinate the two outspoken Lords without arousing any suspicion from the already very, very suspicious populace. To add another item to the nearly impossible list of demands, ”It must be done at no fewer than 100 paces!!” Xin has no choice but to accept the assignment.

Despondent, he takes a walk through the marketplace and watches street performers spin plates on upraised poles, then spies a troupe of old men spinning wooden tops with long ropes. Then, out of the sky, a beam of light pierces through and angels descend from the heavens to give Xin some sort of divine inspiration. How in the hell he comes up with the idea for the flying guillotine from watching a few seconds of street performance is a mystery that not even the editor can solve for us. In literally no time flat, Xin’s got himself a working prototype, complete with bronze skullcap, descending mesh screen, and interlocked blades to snip off the victim’s gulliver. 

The next logical step is to decapitate a few wooden mannequins:

Of course, he succeeds with flying colors, and it’s off to the Imperial Palace for the grand unveiling.

So there you have it: the birth of the most badass weapon ever to grace the silver screen, taking up no more than five minutes of our film’s running time.  But this is only the first stage of the ridiculously elaborate plan to execute two uppity Lords. Now Xin is tasked with rounding up a dozen of the most skilled and loyal Imperial warriors for some rather unusual special forces training. A jump cut is all it takes for him to recruit his crew of 12 Flying Guillotiners, lead them on their sacred unbreakable oaths to the Emperor, and sacrifice a ceremonial chicken to seal the deal. Once you spill chicken blood over that altar, there’s absolutely no turning back.

The training begins in usual kung fu style: our recruits negotiate a sandy obstacle course with a climbing pole, gymnastic hand loops dangling from chains, and naturally, behead the requisite wooden mannequins. Two of the trainees prove to be quick studies: noble Ma Teng (Kuan Tai Chen, star of Boxer from Shantung) and despicable rat Ah Kun (Shaw Brothers stock villain Hung Wei), who we immediately know will turn out to be the protagonist and eventual antagonist, respectively. Also one of them is a mole feeding dubious intelligence to the Emperor on a nightly basis. No bonus points if you figure out his identity before the other characters do.

All the while, an increasingly paranoid Yongzhen keeps a close eye on these trainees, becoming convinced that his own safety might someday be jeopardized. Understandably so; who wouldn’t soil themselves upon seeing this abomination flying towards their noggin while emitting an eerie buzz-saw sound? Nonetheless, he studies the training sequences as closely as we do.

Save for a fleeting exchange of fisticuffs between Ma Teng and Ah Kun on the obstacle course, there is a distinct dearth of action to be seen in the first act of The Flying Guillotine, unless you count violence inflicted upon wooden target men. The hand-to-hand combat is stiffly choreographed, with obvious blocking, rigorously memorized cues, and men sent flying from blows that clearly do not connect. Once the story really kicks into high gear, however, it’s almost impossible to keep up with the escalating body count. Heads are detached from torsos in an alarming frequency not seen since the French Revolution.

The 12 Flying Guillotiners, led by Xin Kang, begin dressing in black and venturing out every night like ninjas, stalking the rooftops of Feng Yang in search of traitorous heads to remove. The two Lords from the opening scene are dealt with in no time flat, with pathetic ease. Who would blame the Emperor for wanting to get the most out of his awesome new weapon, and his dozen skilled hitmen? New targets are added to the hitlist almost as quickly as they are summarily decapitated.

All well and good, but this is a mainstream studio production designed to appeal to the ultra-nationalist sensibilities of the Chinese moviegoing populace, so about halfway through, the story becomes one of rebellion. Sick of being a fascist tool for a paranoid despot, Ma Teng decides to jump ship and turn his back on the Empire, away from the poisoned teat of Imperial corruption and into the open arms of the working class. After a lengthy nighttime escape sequence, with plenty of awkward swordplay, Ma Teng is on the lam and must deal with the stigma of being Feng Yang’s Most Wanted. Can he start a new life as a humble farmer, all the while dodging the dogged pursuit of his former allies and the lengthy reach of their fearsome flying guillotines?

And maybe, just maybe, he could hook up and start a new family in the process.

In spite of its simplistic storyline, with clear-cut black-and-white morality leaving zero room for ambiguity, Meng Hua Ho keeps the pace humming along at a rapid clip, keeps the stage blood flowing, and racks up an impressive number of on-screen decapitations. According to more than one source, The Flying Guillotine actually holds the record for most beheadings in a feature film; somewhere in the neighborhood of 25, all told. You could try to keep track but it would be a fruitless effort. Just sit back, turn your brain off, and marvel at the unparalleled spectacle.

At the end of the day, the moral is simple. Yongzheng = bad, working class = good.

Above all, the flying guillotine always wins. Always.

“I heard an old Chinese expression. It is easier to kill a coward than to insult him.”

Master of the Flying Guillotine is the arguably the greatest Shaw Brothers film ever made. Jimmy Wang Yu’s masterpiece has carved itself upon Martial Arts Film consciousness in all its baroque absurdity, and stars the most ludicrous and frightening weapon ever to grace the silver screen. Master of the Flying Guillotine also sits proudly with The Great Sequels that have surpassed their sires, such as The Empire Strikes Back, The Wrath of Khan, and Evil Dead 2. (Yeah, yeah, what about Godfather II? Eh, I still preferred 1). But most of all, Master of the Flying Guillotine is a savagely funny film, showcasing Jimmy Wang Yu’s audacious and elaborate black humor while still retaining the fast-paced rhythm and grim tone of a solid Shaw Brothers beat ‘em up.

Continuing the epic saga of One Armed Boxer, Master of the Flying Guillotine opens with a surreal and disturbing scene. A blind old man discovers, via pigeon post, that the One Armed Boxer has killed two of his disciples. The message leaves out the part that it was self-defense, not that it matters; the blind man is an assassin for the Manchu regime. Well, what’s a blind old man gonna do to the invincible One Armed Boxer? Kam Kang, in a career-defining role, demonstrates precisely what a blind old man is capable of. This Shaw Brothers Stevie Wonder whips out the Flying Guillotine, a contraption that is essentially a round cap attached to a long chain. The cap’s exterior is ringed with a buzzsaw, and there a second set of whirling blades inside of it. What you do is toss this cap on someone’s head, a chute drops the whirling blades, and you yank the cap back to retrieve the head in question.

The old man proceeds to toss this Frisbee of Death about with horrifying accuracy; he chops off the heads of several practice dummies, and then for laughs, lops off the head of a chicken who was clucking around in the wrong place. The Master of the Flying Guillotine also happens to be The Master of the Hand Grenade. He extracts a little grey ball (some sort of incendiary grenade) from his robes, and chucks it behind him. This blind old man just blew up his house, and he doesn’t give a shit. Disguised as a Buddhist lama, the assassin hits the road with one mission: Bring Me the Head of the One Armed Boxer.

We cut to the scene of the One Armed Boxer (director-star Jimmy Wang Yu) training his disciples. The One Armed Boxer demonstrates his incredible jumping and balance by walking around the rim of an empty wicker basket. (While you’re dazzled by that move, suspend your disbelief and pay no attention to Jimmy’s suspicious arm-shaped bulge in his shirt). The school then learns that there is a major marital arts tournament coming up, and the One Armed Boxer decides it would be a hoot if he brought his students along to watch. Hey, it’ll be educational. What could possibly go wrong?

The One Armed Boxer and the blind assassin’s shenanigans are just the tip of the iceberg. This is Jimmy Wang Yu, Master of the Let’s Cram Every Weird Weapon and Fighting Style Into My Movies. Entering the tournament is a cocky Thai kickboxer who dances a merry jig before each fight, an Indian yogi who can stretch out his arms ten feet (yes, this is precisely where they came up with Streetfighter’s Dhalsim), a Japanese tonfa fighter who calls himself Win Without a Knife (a moniker that turns out to be complete bullshit, much to the chagrin of his stabbing victims), and a host of other cannon fodder fighters demonstrating Dragon, Monkey, Eagle Claw (the red hot Chung-erh Lung…hubba hubba!), Snake, Mantis, and more.

Since he’s visually impaired, the blind assassin decides to best route is to kill every one-armed slob he runs into. After he decapitates one poor shmuck who claimed to be the One Armed Boxer, a bystander cries out, “That wasn’t the One Armed Boxer! He was just a bum!” The blind assassin then utters what is perhaps the coldest line in cinematic history: “I don’t care who he was.” Yikes.

Master of the Flying Guillotine features wall-to-wall fistfights, with each fight progressively more ridiculous than the last. The kung fu tournament redefines the word “brutal,” and the way the One Armed Boxer deals with the kickboxer will have you grabbing at your feet and screaming. You can well imagine how our hero deals with the Indian Stretch Armstrong; let’s just say it involves a roof support beam. The last inevitable showdown between the Boxer and the Assassin is spectacular, and takes place in two stages, culminating in a coffin shop, naturally.

If the superbly choreographed boxing, tripped out story, and head loppings weren’t enough, Master of the Flying Guillotine features the nuttiest movie soundtrack ever to grace a Shaw Brothers production. According to Wikipedia, the soundtrack to the original theatrical release included “Super” and “Super 16″ by Neu!, portions from Tangerine Dream’s album Rubycon, and pieces of “Mitternacht” and “Morgenspaziergang” from Kraftwerk’s Autobahn. Holy moly. It bears mentioning that this film was made in 1975; whoever the hell scored this film was in touch with some seriously underground music. Incredibly, this techno/proto-punk music fits in perfectly with this kung fu period piece, especially the blind assassin’s “theme music.” Due to copyright infringements, the latest DVDs now feature a newly composed original score, but I still prefer the ripped off music.

What more can be said of Master of the Flying Guillotine? Like Joseph Sylvers says, see it with someone you love.

With the earnestness, sincerity, and emotional maturity of a teenybopper, Fearless is desperate to create an atmosphere of epic gravitas, but eventually undercuts itself with dimwitted hypernationalism. The film’s heavy-handed obviousness reminded me of the beautifully rendered propaganda posters from the height of the Cultural Revolution. The film is skillful and pleasing to the eye, but has all the political subtly of its counterpart in stupidity, The Patriot.

To the film’s credit…and what was probably its most shocking aspect to the brainwashed masses Fearless so crassly panders to…is the presence of one sympathetic, honorable Japanese character. But hell, for the Mainland, that’s torrid stuff, so I won’t denigrate this bold step in Chinese cinema. The fights are rock-solid and wonderful to behold, and I did enjoy Jet Li’s dramatic turn. There is depth to the character of Huo Yuanji, but his transition from arrogant martial artist to saintlike defender of Chinese honor rings hollow and dishonest.

I knew I was in for The Same Old Shit when the film opens with a tournament specifically held “to destroy China’s self-esteem.” Anyone not familiar with rabid Chinese nationalism would read that as a comical mistranslation, except…yep, they’re not joking. Fearless is yet another salve to the “poor self esteem” of the Chinese Nation. The film does recover and gain a firm footing in its middle section, as Jet’s unbridled ambition to become “the best fighter in Tianjin” leads to a bloody consequences. In its quaint, doleful way, the film leads Li’s character to find enlightenment and inner peace on a Miao farm. (The Miao are one of the minority peoples of China). It reminded me of the cliche of the soul-stricken cowboy finding enlightenment and peace in the ways of the Native Americans. But still, given the general contempt mainstream China holds its minority peoples in, it’s a positive step for Chinese cinema. So kudos for that, too, I guess.

I imagine some of you are rolling your eyes and saying “Dude, it’s a kung fu movie.” I’d thank you for that observation, and merely point to the film’s dozens of attempts at artsy fartsy pretensions, and then direct you to Chinese directors who do pretentiousness right, such as Zhang Yimou and Wong Kar-Wai. The bottom line is that Fearless is anything but.