Burning Paradise

Willie Chi and Carman Lee

Ringo Lam's Burning Paradise, from 1994, is a vibrantly puerile wuxia flick, the only one Lam ever attempted. The material is a hunk o' heroic mythos, good versus evil. The film's source, a novel entitled The Tale of an Extraordinary Swordsman, has been made into a film numerous times with the title usually referencing the tale's seat of villainy, the Red Lotus Temple. In the early 18th Century, Shaolin monks are imprisoned at the temple after rebelling against an unjust regime. The temple is a gruesome prison with booby traps and torture devices ruled by a mad elder named Kung. The hero, a novice monk played by Willie Chi, and heroine (Carman Lee), a whore with a hard heart of gold, are joined together because both are being sought by Imperial forces. In the thrilling prologue, Lam unleashes a frenzy of swooping cameras and choreographed mayhem. The gore is plentiful, but cartoonish like in Sam Raimi's films. I don't think I've ever seen a film in which a horse is decapitated.

This is the type of movie Spielberg sought to make with Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, but lacked the chutzpah and malevolence. Whereas ...Doom was aimed at nine year olds, Lam and producer Tsui Hark go for thirteen year olds with Burning Paradise. The film's humor is juvenile and the two leads wan, but the last two thirds of the film belong to Kung and his fiendish temple/prison. Kung seems to have dropped his Buddhist philosophy for a more do what thou wilt stance. As deliciously over-played by Wong Kam Kong, Kung, whether smoking his water pipe, cackling in a creepy manner or killing a concubine to add blood and a little je ne sais quoi to one of his paintings, Kung is the larger than life villain needed to preside over this temple from hell. Imprisonment is perhaps the central theme in Lam's work and he gives the film a palpable sense of confinement and release. The film is streaming on Apple TV+, but martial arts fans should do themselves a favor and purchase the snappy looking Blu-Ray put out by Vinegar Syndrome.

Carman Lee and Wong Kam Kong