This is a genuinely touching period piece from someone other than Tsui Hark (about time, too). Based on an ancient Chinese legend, The Bride with White Hair follows the Romeo and Juliet-ish love of two competing warriors from opposing clans. Cheung (Farewell My Concubine) is Zhou Yihang, the imminent successor to the throne of the eight martial arts clans in Chung Yuan. A handsome, powerful swordsman, he one day meets the gorgeous Lian Nichang (Lin), a deadly assassin raised by wolves and currently in the employ of a pair of evil Siamese twins, intent on the destruction of Cheung’s eight clans. Initially the pair bicker and trade blows, but before you can say Bill Shakespeare, they’re head-over-heels in love and disobeying direct orders from their corrupt superiors. His eyes opened by love, Cheung begins to question his clan’s random violence toward other, weaker groups, until one day, he opts out of the picture. This leads to a grisly battle and, eventually, to a falling out with his love, and ultimately, to a deep, sorrowful tragedy. Sure it’s clichéd, but Yu makes it seem fresh and alive, thanks in part to both a well-written, literate script and two fantastic actors who, for once, are allowed to act like adults. There’s still plenty of high-tech, psychotically-choreographed kung fu scenes, but the crux of this story rests squarely on some very grown-up themes: allegiance, love, and loss. To top it off, Yu’s cinematographer Peter Bao works wonders with his limited budget — this is simply one of the most gorgeously filmed Hong Kong movies I’ve ever seen, flooded with deep, rich hues and striking camera movements. This is one of the best arguments so far against letting the Crown Colony revert to the PRC in 1997, but then we’ve still got three or so years left to see what happens.
This article appears in April 15 • 1994 (Cover).