I don’t know about you, but I could watch portly Kung Fu legend, Sammo Hung, play his trade all day. Be it the movies he directs, the martial arts sequences he devised, or the unbelievable fight sequences he’s participated in, there’s something defiantly evergreen about watching the man takes punches and kicks almost as much as he absorbs jibes about his weight.
It simply doesn’t get old watching this master of the genre create his potent brand of comedy/drama as he hurls puts himself through Jackie Chan levels of punishment despite looking like he’s built like Ronnie Barker and I truly believe that he’s a shoo-in for any Kung Fu Mount Rushmore you care to throw at me.
However, to my shame, I’ve only seen a fraction if his work, so in an attempt to rectify this heinous error, I dutifully sought out a movie of his I’d never previously heard of in order to test this lightning-footed, plus-sized god among men, promptly stumbled across The Victim and immediately was posed with a burning question: why the hell had I never heard of this before?
Chan-wing (or Fatty, if you’re watching the clumsily dubbed version) wanders into town with the aim to challenge various martial artists that he meets in order to try and meet someone who can whup his butt in order for him to make them his master. After rearranging the faces of a fair few guys in the village, his search seemingly pays off when he runs into Chun-yau, a cagey young man who values his privacy for mysterious reasons who proves to be a far superior fighter. Chang-wing is delighted, but Chun-yau is visibly annoyed at this oafish man who suddenly insists on following him around everywhere and learning new skills from his reluctant master who usually replies with vicious slaps. However, upon following him home and meeting his wife Yuet-yee, Chang-wing eventually finds out why Chun-yau plays his cards so close to his chest.
Years before, during Chun-yau and Yuet-yee’s wedding day, his nefarious step-brother, Cho-wing, arrives and immediately fills his villian-quota by not only leering at the newly wed wife from around a jade eyepatch, but tries to have his way with her as recompense for the loss of his eye. From then on, the couple has been on the run as Chun-yau fears a battle with his step-sibling despite being a remarkably accomplished fighter and Chang-wing wonders aloud why such a capable man chooses to live his life in fear.
Well, he’s about to find out, because Cho-wing’s men have finally located them and thanks to some highly dubious means, he plans to settle this nasty, family business once and for all. However, some things aren’t what they seem and as this wild story progresses, we find out that the identity of the titular victim might not be who you first thought.
Kung Fu movies from the 80s are, by and large, notoriously fast-pased and frenzied in nature, however, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a movie that moves quite as fast as The Victim. From the opening credits to the final, typically strange, shot (Hung movies always have truly bizarre final moments), the movie stubbonly refuses to take a breath, cramming in as much Kung Fu carnage as it possibly can within its 100 minute run time. Be it the type of self-deprecating prat-falling Hung helped innovate or the stunningly bruising final battle that sees the step-brothers batter each other’s internal organs into jelly while we look on with awe, dialogue is minimal and almost always interspersed with the occasional, comedy slap almost as if the two leads had been possesed by Burt Reynolds and Dom Deluise from the end credits of The Cannonball Run.
The result is definitely not for the sort of people who like their movies to take a nuanced, measured approach, but those who worship at the thrown of classic-style Kung-Fu given a bit of a “modern” zip with be enthralled by the sheer complexity of the fights and the fact that there’s so many of them. To the uninitiated, the whole thing is a blur, punctuated by crunch and swoosh of 80s era, Hong Kong sound effects, but no matter what type of fight you are watching, be it with fists or weapons, comedic or serious, or even one-on-one or a huge brawl, it’s all staged differently.
But in the rare moments where we aren’t being treated to the human body being thrashed within an inch of its life, The Victim has a surprisingly twisty sting in its tale. While the shocks in the plot probably work so well because they are able to move freely undercover thanks to the wall to wall bludgeoning, they’re nevertheless still legitimately affecting. With a spoiler warning in full effect, we get shock deaths, out of nowhere rug pulls and a late in the day reveal that Sammo Hung’s chonktastic pugilist isn’t quite the affable dope he first appeared almost hit as hard as one of his roundhouses and it shows that there’s more to Hung’s film than just blunt force trauma.
However, the fact that this brawl-fest has has any plot at all is merely the cherry on the top of this unfeasibly violent dessert and the true joy comes from Hung and Bryan Leung demonstrating their formidable skills in this magnificent showcase. Hung, wisely, plays the fool and lets Leung and his remarkably perfect beard play all the straight man as he continues to flee from his murderous family. Aided by his wife (played by the unfortunately named Fanny Wang), you understand why such a capable fighter loses his nerve when he has to face his own step brother in mortal combat.
With such emotional stakes in place, it helps if your movie can back it up and after a film-full of brawls, comedy routines and male bonding made up almost entirely of open handed blows, The Victim pulls out a fucking blinder in its final act as Leung and Chang Yi beat seven shades of shit out of each other for what seems like a beautiful eternity. You can’t help be glued to every frame as both men glare at each other while claret dribbles out of their mouths thanks to the contents of their rib cages being beaten like a dusty carpet.
Those immune to the spell binding charms of classic Kung Fu will no doubt be flummoxed by the twirling choreography, the cartoonishly broad characterisation and the fact that Hung’s ending are as jarring to a western audience as a bo staff to the temple, but if this sort of thing floats your boat, the last thing you’ll feel like is a victim.
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