Hi! Welcome to The Silver Spleen.
My name is [censored],
and this is my review of Wong Kar Wai's
THE GRANDMASTER.
Ostensibly, given the removed S in the English title,
the film is about the rise of Ip Man,
the real-life teacher of Bruce Lee.
Ip Man is played by Tony Leung Chiu Wai,
also known as Little Tony.
He does an admirable job
of portraying a martial arts master fighting his way to
the top of the heap.
I found it really strange that the romantic arc in the film
spent a lot of effort to make us think that
Ip Man was a very dedicated and loving husband,
because his emotional path in the film was basically
"I love my wife."
"I love my wife so much."
"I really love my wife."
"I really, really, re- what?"
"My wife? F@#$ that b*tch!"
"Look at her!"
"I love this woman!"
There's no way around it; Ip Man is a d*ck.
If his feelings could change that quickly,
how deep could they have ever been?
But at least Tony Leung and Zhang Ziyi
have an understandable reason for being in the movie;
there's absolutely no explanation
(admittedly in the English subtitles)
who Chang Chen's character is.
He's... some guy with a razor
who starts a Shanghai-style barber shop in Hong Kong.
Maybe he's now one of the 90-year-olds
that cuts my hair.
From what clues we're given,
it's as plausible as any other explanation.
And makes me glad that I tip well.
We don't ever find out who he is, or why he's there.
That stuff, if it exists at all,
is probably on the cutting-room floor,
or being saved for the rumored four-hour director's cut,
which will probably take another decade to see the
light of day. Splendid.
Chang Chen still makes out better than
Ip Man's son, who simply disappears from the film
without any explanation whatsoever.
"Daddy has new best friends." "
"But mommy is still dead."
"Bye!"
Among the inevitable accolades
that THE GRANDMASTER will garner,
they should include Most Egregious Waste of a Cameo,
for having Elvis Tsui Kam Kong in the film
for no more than 10 seconds.
"Elvis Tsui is...
The Glandmaster!"
I'm not really a fan of Wong Kar Wai.
Or his fans.
Obviously this film has been the recipient of gushing,
hyperbolic accolades using really precious adjectives.
I can see why.
Wong Kar Wai's films pander to film lovers,
especially Western (-ized) ones,
what with his "deliberate pacing,"
as opposed to _glacial_,
his "exquisitely thematic approach to narrative,"
as opposed to _utterly negligent_,
or just maybe his films are so vague, and empty
of any discernible meaning that it allows his fans
to inscribe their own meaning onto his films,
providing them with a warm feeling of connectedness,
knowledge, and, naturally, superiority.
Nothing soothes like solipsism.
Oh wait... I'm sure that I'm just being a neanderthal
who can't appreciate the subtlety, the angst,
the Veuve Clicquot of Wong Kar Wai's narrative,
which is so delicate and complex and subtle,
with a smoky note of pearwood...
Go f@#$ yourself.
And yes, I know Veuve Clicquot is a champagne.
You tw@t.
If you wanna watch this movie, knock yourself out.
I'm not gonna recommend it, 'cause I'm not really a fan,
but if you wanna see it, do it the right way: pay for it.
Buy a BluRay, buy a DVD.
Don't download it. Downloading stinks.
Guess what's down there, other than...?
A link where you can buy the movie.
That's what I want you to do.
If you enjoyed this review, leave me a comment.
If you didn't enjoy the review,
please leave me a comment.
Like that guy that said, and I quote,
"You must be smokin' f@#$in' crack."
I've never smoked crack. It's hard to get here.
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Because... I need it.