Zhang Yimou
Hero

Two men, face to face: the king of Qin and the anonymous, mysterious prefect of a minor province of the kingdom - Nameless is his name. The king knows nothing of this unknown swordsman, except that he, and he alone, owes him his life. The weapons that Nameless brings in as proof; they are the weapons taken from the three formidable assassins who have been plotting in the shadows against the king for years: Sky, Broken Sword, and Flying Snow. Nameless has defeated them all, challenging them one by one to a duel and surpassing them from above with his infallible, unparalleled speed. For this, he has earned the privilege of approaching the king first at 20, then at 10 steps from the throne: a privilege denied to any other citizen of Qin, on pain of immediate death. The mysterious warrior, gaze fixed into the void, tells the king of the mastery of arms, the skill, and the cunning that led him to defeat the three enemies. But...

There is a "but," yes, but I cannot go further: delving into the folds of the wise plot of "Hero," after all, means revealing too much of the charm of the work; and depriving the viewer of all the pleasure of surprise. My task is not this, especially if you've never seen the film (but I hope you have); instead, it's to convey to you (though the task is very arduous) the magic emanating from these 90 minutes and a bit more. I dare say: the most beautiful 90 cinematographic minutes of the last 10 years, for what is perhaps Zhang Yimou's masterpiece. Not only that: it is an hour and a half of pure aesthetic-visual enjoyment, a pleasure for the eyes, a triumph of imagery. A film that, in its perfection - well disguised under a mantle of ineffable lightness, literally makes the dullness, the meagerness, and the hollow façade rhetoric of the Academy Award-winning works of the last 5/6 years pale; it's not about igniting a controversy that would easily draw the accusation of ostentatious pro-Orientalism onto me, but to say that in the West - at least as far as I'm concerned - little has been seen in this decade that can rival the depth of "Hero," with its incomparable lyricism. To say this is one firmly convinced that - after the national Robertino - only 2 or 3 films truly deserved the Oscar they received, thus my observation may seem absolutely relative (but perhaps even useless, maybe). But it is the most immediate and trivial way to convey to you the SUPERIORITY of this film.

Dialectic superiority: every dialogue, not to mention, every single word is weighed and measured, so much so that (at least for once) the Italian dialogues do not make one miss the original Mandarin text. Silences integrate the properly "verbal" sections, noises, and sighs make the word of "Hero" a powerful, peremptory, vigorously assertive word. The story itself, moreover, is played on understanding and intuition, on the distinction between factual truth and partial truth, on the in-depth investigation into the subjectivity of the various thinking selves. The speaking names (in the best epic tradition) of the characters are a perfect meta-textual integration to the narrated story.

Narrative superiority, indeed: not only is the time of "Hero" non-linear in terms of scenic action (you will soon notice), but it is a falsified time, subjected to continuous dislocation, dense with analepses and "flashbacks," suspended between reality and imagination. The time of the mind often overlaps, often prevails over the time of the world. The screenplay is superb, a masterpiece in itself regardless of the brilliance of the project.

Scenic superiority: the different sequences (chronologically a-linear, as stated) are characterized by the use of perfect color symbolism. Red, gray, blue, green... for an apotheosis of nuances and visual frames that induce the viewer into as many moods: excitement, melancholy, anger, serenity, and more. The classic choreographies of the "wuxiaplan," the combat scenes, and the protagonists' acrobatics become poetry, beyond the coldness of the simple technical effect. The duel (mental, even before concrete) between Sky and Nameless to the sound of the gu-zheng will appear emblematic to you.

Conceptual superiority: without anticipating anything of the plot to those who have not seen the film, Master Z.Y. has shown wisdom in interpreting and deepening in his own way that dialectic always felt as urgent since the dawn of any philosophy: that is, the individual-collectivity relationship (or, if you prefer: hero-nation), and again the difficulty of reconciling the impulses of the former with the (prospective) good of the latter. To what extent is it legitimate to sacrifice one's life? Are there superior interests, transcending the individual's will (in this case, the fate of united China), to which everything else must be subordinated? "Hero" also makes one reflect on this, without getting lost in sterile debates about the subtly communist message that some seem to perceive.

Interpretive superiority: the best of cinematic China (or almost, of course) is in the cast of this film. Above all: Jet Li in the role of Nameless, impenetrable like a Sophoclean hero; icy, ruthless, rigid calculator; yet human, therefore imperfect, as you will see. And Maggie Cheung in the role of Flying Snow: in what remains her best performance, the queen of Hong Kong cinema is magnificent, passionate as never before in the red sequence, now sensually emotional now cruelly unperturbed in the others; it is an indissoluble bond of love and death that binds her to the lover Broken Sword, that Tony Leung many times with her on screen. With inevitably tragic outcomes. Donnie Yen also appears and a very young Zhang Ziyi in the role of Moon.

I have gone on at length for my first film review. But if one does not go on at length for certain things, what will one ever go on for?

Wonderful.