What makes Guillotine even more interesting than most is that this is a story of non-redemptive anti-heroes.  There are no heroes - really - none in this film.  There are no likable characters to root for and they are all without honor; a scenario not so common in standard kung fu films.  

Every film typically has its ‘hero/villain’ dichotomy.  And most kung fu films have a fairly simple, definable morality which guides the story progression.  What I like about this film is that – just as in real life – morality is not often so clear cut, nor are the fairy tale aspects of right and wrong.  When they do exist, they are on constantly shifting ground.  Unlike epic battles with a guiding moral compass where the lines of good and evil are clearly defined (think Bruce Lee versus John Saxon in Enter the Dragon), Guillotine tells a different story and that is truly what sets it apart.

The film has a simple story-line set in ancient China in a time when tribal warlords, nobles and nomads ruled their territories and fighting was rather important in day-to-day living.  A one armed boxer is being hunted by an elderly, blind master of martial arts hell-bent on avenging the deaths of his two disciples. So: who do you think you are rooting for, and why?  Be sure to ask yourself that throughout.  The film tricks you into thinking you have your heroes picked out but by the end all are to shame, dead or alive. 

Opening up to a long shot on an isolated, misty mountain we see an elderly, long-haired-white-mustachioed-Zen-like man practicing kung fu.  His messenger bird returns with an iconic tablet letting him know that his two disciples have been killed by a one-armed man – and wow does this set him off in a kung fu rage.  Out comes his weapon of choice, a most inventive one at that; his flying guillotine.  It looks like a fashionable hat of the period – perhaps Ming, Qing or Yuan dynasty – but it is really a razor sharp implement of death (and has its own magical sound effect that follows it throughout the film).

When he flings the weapon and pulls the chain, a circular razor blade halo comes out.  Combine that with the fact that he is a kung fu master and throwing out some serious Chi, it does a lot of damage (and it’s pretty damn noisy). His blindness and age are apparently not issues because of his super-developed sensory skills and ancient mastery of the art.  But back to the rage thing: he then seemingly mindlessly reacts to the news, killing a chicken using the guillotine, destroying his placid mountain refuge by blowing up his house, and also killing his pet monkey.  All in the first ten minutes!  He is not very Zen like after all, we see; perhaps more an unsentimental bastard animal killer?

And so this man, Fung Sheung Wu Chi, played by Kam King with broad intensity, is our first anti-hero.  In fact, he is loathsome.  At first we think, “Awww, his disciples were killed” and want to root for him.  But after he starts killing every one-armed man encountered regardless of who they are, you simply think “evil asshole.”  And he disguises himself as a monk during his quest for vengeance to boot.  Oh, the irony.

The one armed man Fung seeks is a master at a kung fu school. He seems a wise and thoughtful man.  He does not want to fight in the upcoming ‘All Regions Tournament’ despite student entreaties for seemingly moral reasons – true kung fu mastery is not about fame or fortune.  And we think, “Awww, he is a good man. I fear for him. The assassin is coming.”  Circumstances bring him to the tournament anyway, only he insists on remaining a spectator.  We think, “He is a noble man.  Everyone wants him to fight, but he declines for his honorable reasons.”

While all this is going on, fighters from all over the region come to claim their spot in the tournament.  In fighting for the tournament master (the audition if you will) we meet some campy, perhaps unintentionally, clichés and stereotypes: the feisty, capable daughter of the tournament organizer, a turban-wearing Yogi with extendable arms (and his own India-tinged music), a disrespectful rebel of Native-American-Chinese facsimile (with his own obnoxious flute music), a mysterious man in a peasant’s straw hat, and so on.  All exceptional fighters and all have something unique as far as fighting styles go – and each has his own theme music to boot.

I don’t want to give much more away, but what follows of course is the tournament itself.  Many enjoyable, memorable fights progress with each ending in a catchphrase that surprisingly never really caught steam beyond the film in current idiom, “Take the loser away!”  I can so see that on a t-shirt, but maybe that’s just me.

Within the tournament, we see many examples of dishonorable behavior in kung fu movie terms: cheating and dirty fighting.  Already you think, “This person does not deserve to win having displayed such bad sportsmanship – or sportswomanship” as the case may be.  Having killed or run off the opponent though, they win leaving a bad taste for kung fu purists.  Juxtaposed then, against a fight when two opponents kill each other simultaneously, oddly enough we hear “Take the winners away!”  This is actually quite meaningful to the film’s subtext.

Just when you think that’s as exciting as it can get – nooooooooo.  Things really get crazy when old man Fung crashes the tournament wreaking havoc in one of the greatest “what-the-fuck” moments in film costume history. But that’s for you to see and enjoy on your own, not for me to ruin for you.  And so, the inescapable conflict begins and the fighters take sides after much chaos and carnage.  Some align with Fung and some with the One Armed Boxer.  The film takes off from here towards its climatic and bizarre conclusion.  Again I don’t want give it all away, but these alliances produce absolutely despicable unnecessary sadistic tactics and really are a hallmark departure from the kung fu film formula for defining hero or villain.  Not the acts as far as the genre’s penchant for brutality goes; but more the method and rationale for deployment.

 Where more traditional kung fu films set up that battle of good versus evil, when morally ambiguous lines are set up in such a way as this film does, it adds an extra layer of subtext that (if you can get past the extend-o arms and gimmicky fights) is really quite brilliant filmmaking.  Or… maybe I just took one too many hits off the pipe.  Either way… some may argue that film’s hero is the One Armed Boxer and that he is indeed noble and deserving of the term.  I know it can be a lot to ask when watching an over-the-top film such as this, but the hero-defining journey here is a rocky one.

Sure, the hero is traditionally a valiant and brave role, yet also flawed. Usually a fatal flaw exists if we all follow the classical Greek, Roman or Shakespearean tragedy model (yet still always redeemable).  In Master of the Flying Guillotine though, one may walk away from the carnage, but none were redeemable in traditional literary or cultural frameworks – and therein is the film’s uniqueness.

One final note:  I have seen this film quite a few times.  Each time I am amazed by the obvious influence and impact it has had on contemporary action films.  Homage in film is not atypical, yet I guarantee once you see this film and others like it you will no longer view certain American directors’ lauded creative originality as such.