The AssassinWhat agency does an assassin have in their morality, or even in matters of the heart, when an edict commands her to compromise both? The Assassin is the story of Nie Yinniang (Shu Qi)--a young woman who is also the eponymous assassin--set in 8th century China against a backdrop of political tensions between the Chinese Imperial Court and one of the semi-autonomous provinces, Weibo. Following a misstep in an assassination attempt, Yinniang is charged to assassinate her cousin--and former betrothed from childhood--Tian Ji'an (Chang Chen).
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The Assassin is a story about rebellion, even in the face of punishment. Yinniang's task to slay her cousin is placed on her to steel her resolve, but it comes after she chose not to slay her prior quarry due to the presence of the man's son. Given a prior scene where she effortlessly cuts down a man who her master--the Taoist nun, Jiaxin (Fang-Yi Sheu)--describes as corrupt, there is no question as to Yinniang's capabilities as a killer. But in her heart, Yinniang knows to commit such an act in the presence of a target's child is wrong, and chooses not to act out of mercy. Although Jiaxin tasks Yinniang to assassinate Ji'an, there is little sense that Yinniang has any intention of carrying out the act; what she does, though, is surveil Ji'an--even making her presence overtly known to him, provoking him--to understand what the man she was to marry has become. Ji'an is now married to Lady Tian (Zhou Yun), while also keeping company with his beloved concubine, Huji (Hsieh Hsin-Ying). Ji'an is the governor of Weibo, and his province is embroiled in the political machinations and back-dealing politics engaged of the Court. Yinniang's choice, therefore, has more consequences than just personal ones; the fate of Weibo rests in her hands. Yinniang's choices have defined her since she was a child, especially where it concerns Ji'an. When Ji'an was married away to Lady Tian to secure a political alliance, it is told that Yinniang tried to storm the place where Ji'an was to get him back, forcing her to be sent away to Jiaxin, where she received her deadly tutelage. When Ji'an makes a journey with his provost, Nie Feng (Ni Dahong)--who is also Yinniang's father--through the country side, Yinniang saves her father and Ji'an from an ambush by other, less-skilled political assassins. Essentially, Yinniang's choice to save Ji'an runs counter to her mission, but she chooses to do so all the same. She contends that killing Ji'an would throw Weibo into chaos (which it would). Yinniang's attitude toward killing is grounded in morality, and although Ji'an is no saint, he is far removed from the nest of vipers that crop up at every turn. But there is the matter of what Yinniang wants in her heart; she cannot be with Ji'an, and Ji'an doesn't really trust her--she is an assassin, after all, who returned home under false pretense--but sometimes the heart chooses for us. There is also the sense that Yinniang is rebelling against her "parentage", namely her "foster mother", Jiaxin, who has ordered her to perform an action she does not want for reasons that don't make sense. (As an aside, it is interesting to note that The Assassin is a film by Taiwanese director, Hou Hsiao-Hsien; Taiwan is itself a comparatively recent nation, formed following rebellion from it's parent state, China.)
More than just a tale of morality and political intrigue, The Assassin is a gorgeous portal back in time to Ancient China. Shot on location in areas of north-eastern China and Inner Mongolia that have barely been touched by civilization, locations look as though they might have been pulled straight from ancient Chinese paintings, an observation made by the director himself. The Assassin takes advantage of these vistas not simply as luscious mise-en-scene, but to create moments both contemplative and even ominous at times. It also puts into perspective just how small and insignificant the political wrangling is that provoked Yinniang to adopt her occupation, showcasing people as diminutive as ants amid the backdrop of ponderous mountains and sprawling fields. Throughout The Assassin is the persistent percussion of a drum, like a steady heartbeat, or perhaps a war drum, preparing one for battle. It scores the tension present in the Weibo province due to the series of political events which threaten the tenuous stability; Yinniang's return marks but the first domino to fall, setting the discord into motion. This cold war is waged in the shadows, and as The Assassin progresses, it becomes clear that Yinniang has no interest in participating as a puppet of corrupt politicians or unfeeling masters, interested only in exploiting her. When Yinniang finally reports to Jiaxin the results of her mission, it is done as Jiaxin overlooks a vast cliff, just as the fog begins to roll in from the valley below. When the mist finally rises in huge waves, it makes the view of the world murky, unclear, and what is in front of Jiaxin is so clouded that one might be inclined to make a grave misstep if proceeding without caution. Yinniang, on the other hand, doesn't face the fog, and returns down the mountain, a clear path before her, unclouded and uncompromised. Some look back on history and consider the eras gone by as being "simpler times". The Assassin posits that there have always been plots and schemes at every point in history, and locating the "truth" largely has to do with following one's heart.
Recommended for: Fans of a beautiful period piece and mix between a political drama and a wuxia martial arts film. The gorgeous visuals and patient pace makes The Assassin a poetic and sage entry into the genre.
More than just a tale of morality and political intrigue, The Assassin is a gorgeous portal back in time to Ancient China. Shot on location in areas of north-eastern China and Inner Mongolia that have barely been touched by civilization, locations look as though they might have been pulled straight from ancient Chinese paintings, an observation made by the director himself. The Assassin takes advantage of these vistas not simply as luscious mise-en-scene, but to create moments both contemplative and even ominous at times. It also puts into perspective just how small and insignificant the political wrangling is that provoked Yinniang to adopt her occupation, showcasing people as diminutive as ants amid the backdrop of ponderous mountains and sprawling fields. Throughout The Assassin is the persistent percussion of a drum, like a steady heartbeat, or perhaps a war drum, preparing one for battle. It scores the tension present in the Weibo province due to the series of political events which threaten the tenuous stability; Yinniang's return marks but the first domino to fall, setting the discord into motion. This cold war is waged in the shadows, and as The Assassin progresses, it becomes clear that Yinniang has no interest in participating as a puppet of corrupt politicians or unfeeling masters, interested only in exploiting her. When Yinniang finally reports to Jiaxin the results of her mission, it is done as Jiaxin overlooks a vast cliff, just as the fog begins to roll in from the valley below. When the mist finally rises in huge waves, it makes the view of the world murky, unclear, and what is in front of Jiaxin is so clouded that one might be inclined to make a grave misstep if proceeding without caution. Yinniang, on the other hand, doesn't face the fog, and returns down the mountain, a clear path before her, unclouded and uncompromised. Some look back on history and consider the eras gone by as being "simpler times". The Assassin posits that there have always been plots and schemes at every point in history, and locating the "truth" largely has to do with following one's heart.
Recommended for: Fans of a beautiful period piece and mix between a political drama and a wuxia martial arts film. The gorgeous visuals and patient pace makes The Assassin a poetic and sage entry into the genre.