After a trip to France for his first foreign production and a longer than usual wait between films, celebrated director Hou Hsiao-Hsien has returned to his homeland and one of its native genres, wuxia, or martial arts film, in The Assassin. The fantastical action and vague narratives customary to these films make the genre seem a curious choice for a director known for historical specificity and stringent realism, but he makes it his own with a film of absolutely stunning visual beauty.
Set in the Tang dynasty in roughly the 9th century, the film centers on its titular assassin Yinniang (Shu Qi), who was once a princess, but was taken away as a child by a mysterious nun and trained in the lethal arts. Now an adult, Yinniang’s teacher reprimands her that despite her flawless technique and ability, her heart is not yet shorn of human emotions, the final necessity to becoming an assassin. As a final test, she is sent back to her hometown and ordered to kill the cousin (Chang Chen) she was once betrothed to, now a prominent military commander in a province with fraught relations with the Imperial government, where conflict might erupt at any moment.
The political intrigue of The Assassin is sometimes hard to follow, but that hardly matters because of (and is maybe even a result of) the jaw-dropping cinematography, composed almost entirely of painterly compositions that one could get lost in for days. Shot on 35mm, each shot feels organic and breathing with life, even in the stillness before a deadly attack. Hou finds a perfect balance between tranquility and dynamism, light and dark, foreground and background. Where most wuxia films elongate action scenes, Hou makes his as sudden and unexpected as Yinniang is to the other characters. The wind is beautifully pronounced, as shivering leaves and reeds give feeling to the exteriors, and undulating silks cloak Yinniang from her unsuspecting targets. Shu Qi gives a smoldering performance; even when Yinniang is hidden within the frame, her dagger-like eyes pierce the audience with the inner conflict her homecoming has brought to the fore. As usual, Hou is blending modern concerns with historical narratives, among them provincial Chinese chafing against the strictures of a central government. Another Hou tenet is no rehearsals, and even amongst the formal accomplishments of the film, the human actions are unstudied and natural, giving more life to the historical setting than any amount of accurate costume detail.
The Assassin is a magisterial take on a classic genre from Hou Hsiao-Hsien. While the film has many admirable qualities, it’s the visual beauty that will stick with you long after the lights come up, sumptuous compositions that rank among the best ever captured on film.
