113 - Hard Boiled review

Just what is it about cinematic violence that enthralls so many? Would it be the fantastical aspect of watching movie stars engage in conflicts we lack the capability to? The cathartic release of seeing someone pay for their wrongs ? Or could the artistry of putting human injury to film be enough?

For John Woo’s Hard Boiled (1992), I’d have to say all of the above. There have been thousands of films that use violence as a selling point, but I’m not aware of any that take it to the manic extreme of Hard Boiled. The action sequences are so numerous that they blend into one another, but always maintain a very clear sense of coherency and style. If there exists a film where the destruction of human life plays out so beautifully, I’ve yet to see it.

People will often comment on the clothesline nature of action films plots (where the story serves as a structure to hang action sequences) as if narrative was a superfluous luxury affordable primarily by slow-moving Oscar-bait. But here may be the only example of a film with a worthless plot worthy of being considered a classic that I can think of. I’ve watched this film consistently for nearly a decade, and never found the dialogue or story events to matter much; Hard Boiled represents such a victory of style over substance that the style becomes the substance. Instead of discussing the characters relationships to one another via dialogue, we discuss it considering the guns they shoot at each and the way bullets are dodged.

The clothesline: Chow Yun-Fat plays a cop, nicknamed "Tequilla", who finds himself engaged in a never-ending series of shootouts with a massive gun-running gang on the streets of Hong Kong. This leads him into conflict with Tony (Tony Leung), an undercover cop working as a hitman for the gang. Film Plots 101 dictates that they join forces to butcher every gang member in their path.

I’ve eagerly watched every movie gunfight I could get my hands on, but any given piece in Hard Boiled would be able to take the prize for most spectacular use of violence as entertainment to date. Woo’s creative use of scenery and firearms is dazzling. The aesthetics of the fantasy gun battle are crafted in a way that merges the best aspects of Woo’s successors, particularly Sam Peckinpah.

Woo’s use of perspective, a key component to a successful action sequence that too many films completely overlook, proves to be nearly impeccable, as his camera lets us in on all the angles of the gun battles, from the heroes to their unfortunate living targets. It lovingly details the effect of thousands of projectiles racing through a room, as scenery quite literally gets chewed to pieces, recognizing that gunfire has results, and we get to see it all. The film may have the highest on-screen body count in cinema history; the Internet Movie Database claims 230, but I personally counted 250, with no less than 100 killed by Chow Yun-Fat alone.
One sequence has the protagonist sliding down a stair rail, emptying two guns at once into fleeing goons. Another features a one man, teargas and shotgun laden assault on a warehouse filled with dozens of bad guys, who quickly find themselves outmatched. The final third features a forty-five minute battle in a crowded hospital where enough blanks are fired to supply any other ten action films. It even has the most technically and visually impressive sequence that I’ve ever seen, a two minute and forty-two second shot where the two heroes maneuver through the hallways of the hospital, blasting thugs to pieces, stopping only to reload, ascend in an elevator, and chat about guilt, only to exterminate some more.

This was Woo’s last film before moving to the U.S. to work in Hollywood. While he has since produced a couple of good films (and several bad ones), the much more conservative Hollywood environment and the ludicrous standards of the MPAA ratings system have ensured that his American work has been significantly toned down from the outrageous blood-baths he specialized in before.

Despite the consistent theme of his Hong Kong action pieces (hero runs into goons, butchers them, moves on), the variety and sheer skill exhibited keep them from degrading into formula, other than the one Woo sets himself (Self-plagiarism is style, Hitchcock said). The great Roger Ebert has often said that films are not about what they are about, but how they are about it. Woo’s magnum opus before leaving Hong Kong demonstrates the truth of this statement to enormous effect. It’s not about the violence, but the way the violence is presented, supercharged and unleashed in relentless waves of blood and bullets, all for our viewing pleasure.

5 out of 5