Against the World:
Assassins and Contract Killers
“To them, you’re only a killing machine.”
(to Michelle Lee/Reis, “The Other Side of the Sea”)
Although Pat Ha played a contract killer in
“On The Run,” her character quickly evolved into an unlikely hero once
forced into a fugitive role by renegade cops. One of the earliest
true assassin films (“Dreaming The Reality,” 1991) – still one of the best
GWG titles – cast Moon Lee and Yukari Oshima as orphaned children raised
as contract killers. Their ambiguous and rather eerie bond is shattered
by the familiar HK plot device of amnesia. In a dissociative state,
Moon Lee’s character stumbles into a normal life. This permits one
of the leading plot devices prominent in the majority of the female assassin
movies – male “rescue” via romance of the attractive female assassin from
the affections of another controlling woman. Parallels – and contrasts
– with the redemption of males in comparable plots may be noted.
Such relations are merely hinted at in “Dreaming,” but are blatant in “Naked
Killer” (1992), “Beyond Hypothermia” (1996) and “Her Name Is Cat” (1998).
In each of these titles, characters played by Simon Yam, Lau Ching-wan
and Michael Wong fall in love with female assassins. A variant on
this theme also briefly surfaces in “Cold War” (2000).
Although superficially just a tragic romantic
thread (the protagonists mostly die), there are a number of potentially
problematic implications of this formula. First, it might be possible
to view the attractive female assassin – a professional loner – as somehow
emblematic of female professional roles. Second, sometimes depicting
the characters’ mentors, bosses or partners as bisexual or lesbian is devaluing
by potentially associating orientation with a criminal, antisocial role
devoid of “feelings.” In these films the female operatives are routinely
admonished to not develop or attend to feelings (e.g., the Taiwanese thread
in “Guardian Angel,” 1996), suggesting that emotions may either be thought
of as somehow more “natural” for women or at odds with effective action.
What this might imply for males in comparable assassin roles is left unanswered.
Third, relationships with the men that superficially “save” them often
spell the end of their careers. Both female contract killers in the
GWG classic “Lethal Panther” (1991) were brought down by their love for
men – a treacherous boyfriend and brother, respectively. Even Jade
Leung’s fine performance in “Black Cat” (1991) was actually as a virtual
zombie – revived with an implanted brain chip – completely under the control
of Simon Yam’s character. Consequently, her rebellion and independence
are crushed early, while her emergent doomed love affair is simply permitted
to play out as her controller remotely toys with her. In reality,
she’s only the shell of a person.
In effect, while masquerading as atypical, these
films may actually affirm traditional roles. When normal relations
with men are depicted, these frequently involve people who are involved
in catering or food service (e.g., “Dreaming The Reality,” “The Other Side
of the Sea,” “Beyond Hypothermia”). This device perhaps sharpens
the contrast between the characters’ roles. Furthermore, the death
of a brother or male partner may also provoke a female assassin to acts
of suicidal vengeance (e.g., Nakeki Fujimi in “Mission of Condor,” Mikie
Ng Miu-yee in “Rock on Fire”).
Other examples include the slick “A Taste of Killing
and Romance” (1994) directed by Veronica Chan Ching-yee, and the unsatisfactory
“Challenge” (1997). In both of these films a female assassin (played
by Anita Yuen Wing-yee and Yukari Oshima, respectively) become romantically
involved with a male assassin. Their paths cross professionally when
each is contracted to perform a hit on their partner. The couple
dies in a bloody shootout in “A Taste of Killing and Romance” but is maimed
and incapacitated in “Challenge.” Nevertheless, both women are doomed
by the relationship involvement, and “A Taste of Killing and Romance” additionally
features Christine Ng Wing-mei as “Ice,” the controlling, unapproachable
contractor.
Additional conventions appear to involve relations
with children. Characters who kill a child are doomed to die (Jacqueline
Wu, “Beyond Hypothermia,” Kara Hui, “Roar Of The Vietnamese,” Agnes Aurelio,
“The Big Score”). Such acts transgress acceptable limits, placing
their perpetrators beyond the pale. In the superior, bleak tragedy
“The Roar Of The Vietnamese,” (1991) Kara Hui’s refugee mother will kill
another child, but dies trying to protect her own. Pat Ha’s assassin
in “On The Run” gradually thaws from her icy remoteness when protecting
Yuen Biao’s child.
