The above screen grabs were taken from the 1982 Taiwanese fantasy wuxia
The Fairy and the Devil. The monster footage itself, however, is taken from a much earlier Taiwanese fantasy film, 1971's
Tsu Hong Wu. I'm not sure how successful of a film
Tsu Hong Wu was, but it's apparent that its monster sequences were very popular with other Taiwanese filmmakers, as
The Fairy and the Devil is not the only movie to have borrowed them. They also turned up in 1977's
Sea God and Ghosts, and, for all I know, could've been pilfered by dozens of other Taiwanese film, as well.
In any case, I'm hoping to have a copy of
Tsu Hong Wu to review in the coming weeks. In the interim I thought I'd cull a little bit of the information I've come across regarding other films of its type, in the process leaning heavily upon the hard work of other bloggers while I simultaneously type and huff multiple cans of air duster. Yay!
It would seem that Japanese-style giant monsters are a rarity in Chinese language cinema. However, I would have said the same thing about Indian cinema a while ago, and just
look at how
wrong I was about
that. In any case, with the very notable exceptions of Shaw's
The Super Inframan (great film, or the
greatest film?) and
Mighty Peking Man, most of those Chinese films featuring suitmation beasties that we do hear about seem to come from Taiwan. On this blog alone, for instance, we've already seen the swoon inducing giant octopuses of
Little Hero, as well as
Thrilling Sword's fearsome nine-headed serpent and demon Cyclops.
Still, despite my obviously heroic efforts in this area, I simply must tip my hat to Tars over at
Tarstarkas.net, who, when he's not busy tormenting hate-mongering loonies, is doing the good work of sniffing out obscure monster movies from every corner of the globe.
For example, back in July, Tars gave us
this post, in which he reviewed the 1970 Taiwanese children's film
Young Flying Hero, which, while not a monster movie per se, does feature the above pictured -- rather anticlimactic, by the sound of it -- battle between a man-in-suit giant frog and an also man-in-suit goofy dragon. A number of people got pretty excited about
Young Flying Hero back when it looked like we were never going to get a chance to see it. But now that it's become available on the gray market and has been revealed to be not quite the big kaiju smack-down that we were hoping for, it's lost its luster somewhat.
Fortunately, there are other Taiwanese giant monster films out there that really do seem to no longer exist, and are hence incapable of ever disappointing us. Just like pretend girlfriends! For instance…
Back in April, Tars
posted pictures of an amazing collection of original promotional materials for
Devil Fighter, a 1969 film directed by
Young Flying Hero's producer Poon Lui (the man also responsible for the Shaw spy film
Poison Rose, which was reviewed here last month). The poster for this batmonster-rich film shows up on eBay from time to time, but so far the movie itself is MIA.
And then there's 1976's
War God, about a giant mythical hero defending Hong Kong against some gargantuan -- but also kind of adorable -- alien invaders. Once again, Tars posted an impressive collection of stills and promotional materials for the film, which can be seen
here. Colin over at
Kung Fu Fridays has also recently
posted about the film, and in his comments section, one of his readers has referred to it as being directed by Chen Hung Min, the same man who gave us
Little Hero. Try as I might, it's very hard for me to imagine this movie being anything other than awesome. And it looks like I may never be disabused of that notion, because, like
Devil Fighter,
War God has also so far proved impossible to find.
But impossible is not a word that's in our vocabulary when it comes to the prospect of finding these seemingly "lost" films -- though we are quick to apply it to mundane and actually quite do-able tasks that we just don't feel like tending to at the moment. Somewhere out there, there just might be someone who has that one golden kernel of information necessary to us finally having one or more of these movies in our fidgety little hands -- or even someone who at this very moment is using the film canister for
War God to prop up a faulty table leg. If that describes you, our operators are waiting for your call.
Fortunately, there are other actors who, unlike Dana, actually appeared in Tarzan & King Kong voluntarily. And one of them is Mumtaz, who plays crash survivor Sharmilla, who, along with her faithful manservant Bismilla (No! We will not let you go. Let him goooooo!... sorry), finds herself floating post-crash in a river in the middle of the jungle wilds. Also fortunately, on hand to save her is none other than Tarzan himself.
Anyway, Tarzan & King Kong is a rollicking, Bollywood B movie jungle adventure in the mold of Zimbo. As such, it runs through a checklist of all of those jungle perils that such a movie should contain: snakes, crocodiles, primitive traps filled with pointy sticks, etc. But just as in Zimbo, the jungle’s biggest threat turns out to be female jealousy, personified here in the form of evil jungle queen Shibani, played by 4DK favorite Bela Bose. Despite the fact that Tarzan is portrayed here as a great grunting dumbass, Shibani is downright heartsick over the big lug, and is none too happy to see that he has just had a new leopard-fur-clad playmate air delivered.
For a brief time, life is one big jungle idyll for Tarzan and Sharmilla, she being apparently not all that attached to civilization in the first place. Given that this is a movie from the mid-sixties, said idyll includes Sharmilla teaching Tarzan how to do the Twist.
But it’s not long before the wrath of Shibani comes down upon them, and their little cargo cult recreation of Shindig must come to an end. The queen’s first volley involves an outright attempt to nab Tarzan Sadie Hawkins-style with the help of her movie savage minions. Tarzan, however, manages to escape from her clutches before she is able to give him her evil jungle queen cooties.
The Queen’s next move is to recruit world famous Punjabi wrestling star and Bollywood B movie hero Dara Singh to work his patented moves on Tarzan, leading to a nail-biting brother-on-brother smack-down.
All in all, Shibani, rather than being just a two dimensional villain, ends up being sort of a tragic figure here. She obviously loves Tarzan, and has followed all of the normal avenues in expressing those feelings to him, throwing him in a cage, abducting and threatening his loved ones, and hiring massive wrestlers to beat him to a pulp. Still his heart remains cold to her. Is there nothing she can do?
Finally Tarzan mercilessly stabs -- well, more like pokes -- the creature to death with his big knife, and the ape gets his Oscar moment by going through some fairly histrionic death throes. Then Queen Shibani meets her tragic end by taking a blade meant for Tarzan, to which Tarzan and Sharmilla both say “Sad” and make that little sarcastic tear drop gesture you do by running your finger down your cheek. Then they both jump onto an elephant and ride off into the sunset.
Lovecraft month continues over at Teleport City, with my latest contribution being a review of The Shuttered Room, the 1967 adaptation of probably the best known of August Derleth's so-called "posthumous collaborations" with old H.P. Our stars include Carol Lynley, Gig Young, and Oliver Reed's giant, sweaty face. Read the full review here.
Ah, the time. Where does she go? I was thinking it was mere weeks since I last updated the home page at The Lucha Diaries. Then it came to my attention that I had -- like some kind of infernal, cult movie masticating machine -- managed to write about ten Teleport City reviews in the interim. Obviously someone got a little behind on the house cleaning. Well, that's been corrected now, and handy links to all of those reviews and more have been added to the never-ending scroll on LD's main page. Check it out. And, while you're there, don't forget to look in on the bazillions of Mexican wrestling movie reviews on offer, pause to reflect upon the hundreds of hours I dedicated to the project, and say a quiet prayer for the tiny piece of me that died in the process.
Janus Films is going to be rolling out Nobuhiko Obayashi's horror freakout masterpiece Hausu for screenings in select U.S. cities starting later this month and going through December. Unfortunately, San Francisco proper is not among those select cities, forcing me to travel to the 'burbs, where my power will be drained just like Ultraman when he spends too much time away from M-78. Anyway, a list of screening dates and locations can be found on the Janus website.
Clearly not aspiring to break with tradition, Little Devil ponies up with all of the curiously gender-bending role assignments that we’ve come to expect from old school wuxia films. Bo-bo Fung is cast as the male hero, and Nancy Sit, while cast as the sweetheart of Fung’s character, spends much of her time onscreen masquerading in male guise. Thanks, however, to the typically chaste representation of romantic relationships between men and women in Cantonese films of this era, those inspired by this scenario to hope for any suggestion of girl-on-girl action will be gravely disappointed.
During Little Devil’s first section, the combination of its bright primary color scheme and the artificiality of the small interior sets used to represent its Wintry, snow-bound settings lend a sort of storybook feel to the action. Once Siu-fung has left the Sound Demon’s cave in search of revenge, however, its middle section drifts toward more prosaic wuxia film territory, marked by the typical fights set in tea houses and alongside country roads. The film’s climax then sends us hurtling back into fantasy land for a final duel between the Sound Devil and Yuk Wah’s father, most memorable for the former’s employment of a nuclear-strength, bellowing laugh that works against his foes in much the same manner as the “Ghostly Laughter” seen in Shaw’s later Holy Flame of the Martial World.
All in all, Little Devil is not defined by it’s fantasy elements, which seem more than anything else to be simply a means to an end, plot-wise. Because of this, those hoping for the kind of crudely realized WTF moments you’d find in more overtly fantastic wuxia films (like the aforementioned Holy Flame) will probably find it to be a bit of a disappointment. But for those attuned to the kind of cozy, low-key pleasures that the sincerity and quaintness of a film of this type can offer, there is definitely a suitable rainy afternoon’s entertainment in store. I also have to say that it’s a real kick to behold the spectacle of armed men cowering from the diminutive and baby-faced Bo-bo Fung, who was just sixteen at the time and not yet fully out of the shadow of her former role as Cantonese cinema’s answer to Shirley Temple. (To her credit, though, she does do the menacing glare really well.)
Needless to say, I’d love to see these old Cantonese films get even a fraction of the attention worldwide that the output of the Shaws, and even the Taiwanese film industry, do. As the products of a scrappy and underfunded local industry, they not only provide a necessary part of the overall story of Hong Kong cinema, but also carry an enormous amount of underdog appeal. Granted, they’re an acquired taste, but I think that, if their existence were more widely known, there are a lot of people out there who would gladly do the work. That said, Little Devil might not be the best place to start, but it will definitely add a modicum of richness to the dedicated viewer’s ongoing discovery of classic Cantonese cinema as a whole. 
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