I can never quite buy into the storytelling convention that once you achieve your dream of becoming the world's greatest warrior, you inevitably realize that dream is hollow.
I can, as the world's best-dressed billionaire, confirm that sporting the fanciest suits in all the land isn't as meaningful as I thought it would be when I was a starry-eyed young millionaire. But unless I take my tailoring to old man Q, my cravats aren't capable of killing any man who stands in their way. If nothing else, being an unbeatable gunslinger or swordsman gives you a mental edge when some clod cuts in front of you at the supermarket. (I imagine. I have all my goods delivered by a team of rare, flight-capable dodos.)
Still, I suppose it's not the size of the cliche, it's how you use it. Many of the ideas in The Warrior's Way are older than its 19th century settings, but when they're rehashed with this much excitement, they can still lead to a pretty good time.
Dong-gun Jang has become the greatest swordsman in the history of the world, but when it comes time to kill the last remaining member of the enemy clan--a baby girl--he refuses. With his own clan hunting him down, he takes the girl and flees to see his friend in the Old West.
He finds his friend has died, but local Kate Bosworth knew him and talks Jang into taking over his business. For a while, Jang is happy in a simple life--but his clan is still after the baby, and Bosworth has a violent past of her own.
We live in an era of mashups, a culture where Pride and Prejudice and Zombies is a bestseller and Cowboys & Aliens is a serious picture. It's only a matter of time before someone greenlights Tyrannosaurus Rex, P.I. or Pirates of the Calrissian: The Far Side of Ice Planet Hoth.
In The Warrior's Way, first-time writer/director Sngmoo Lee sticks samurai films and westerns in a blender. The resulting beverage is pretty tasty, but sometimes a chunk of something hits you the wrong way and you gag a little and hope no one sees you spit it into the sink.
Lee gets off to a strong start. His sets are bright and his action scenes equally vivid. When Jang chops a bunch of enemy jerkwads to ribbons, you can almost taste the blood. It borrows openly from Asian cinema, but carries an enthusiasm that works both as homage and for the movie itself. Anyway, besides God, the RIAA, your parents, teachers, and spiritual leaders, who ever said stealing was wrong?
The Warrior's Way has less success when it transitions to the Old West. Not only does the drama and danger go into hibernation, but Bosworth's hammy accent and dialogue also need to be strung up and shot. And then buried in an unmarked grave under a mountain of Confederate gold. And then shot again by a tuberculotic Val Kilmer.
OK, eventually she gets better, but I didn't have much else to focus on for a while there, because so much of The Warrior's Way is just there to provide for a kickass climax. A circus troupe lives in town. Geoffrey Rush is a drunk. Mayor Tony Cox is very short. With no effort made to develop them, the movie's middle sags like the seat of Rush's dirty longjohns.
Once Lee's got all his dominoes lined up, however, he knocks the holy hell out of them, stringing together action scenes that range from enjoyable to iconic. His sense of humor--questionable till now--gains a goofy, darker, better edge. And it all looks great, nearly as bright as Speed Racer, like something out of a dream or maybe just a really sweet video game.
If Lee someday elevates his storytelling and dialogue to the level of his visual skills, he could be something special. For now, he's a talented dude who's made a movie that's far more fun than it is good.
Grade: C+
* Contact Ed Robertson at edwrobertson@gmail.com. His latest science fiction is available on Amazon here."
