The typical Hollywood hit man, although detached and emotionless, almost invariably encounters someone to slay for personal reasons. Director Hou Hsiao-hsien flips that setup in “The Assassin,” and not just because the film is about a reluctant female killer in ninth-century China. This mesmerizingly beautiful drama ponders themes of duty, patience, isolation and compassion.
Cinematically, one of the most striking things about Nie Yinniang (Shu Qi, in her third outing with the director) is her weapon: a short, curved dagger. Yinniang dispatches corrupt or seditious government officials with a blade designed for quick jabs, not extended duels. There are no epic sword fights in this film: The violence is sudden and momentary.
That Yinniang is a killer is shown in a black-and-white prologue, in which she slashes the throat of a man on horseback. The next shot is not of gushing blood, but of falling leaves, a traditional symbol of transience. That’s characteristic of the Taiwanese filmmaker, who was awarded the prize for best director at this year’s Cannes Film Festival.
He suggests rather than shows, avoiding close-ups in favor of long takes in which actors move naturally.
Taken from her family as a child and raised by the enigmatic nun-princess Jiaxin (Sheu Fang-yi), Yinniang has been trained to kill without question. But she fails to execute a provincial governor when she finds him with his young son. Displeased, Jiaxin nevertheless sends Yinniang after an even trickier target: Yinniang’s cousin Tian (Chang Chen).
Tian oversees Weibo, a remote northern province with a growing army that threatens the emperor. Although he and Yinniang were betrothed by their parents when they were young children, this was more a family alliance than a romance. All the same, Yinniang is reluctant to slay Tian. She bides her time, studying and contemplating her task.
These activities, not assassinations, provide the bulk of the action (or lack thereof). Gorgeously shot with natural light by Hou’s frequent cinematographer Mark Lee Ping Bing, the movie watches Yinniang as she watches. Often she’s framed by trees, doors or windows, or gazing through a billowing curtain. The camera slowly prowls, mimicking the eye movements of a wary observer.
Although the outlines of the story are clear, its subplots are elliptical and sometimes bewildering. As with Wong Kar-wai’s “The Ashes of Time,” Hou’s take on the martial-arts flick is affectionate, but may frustrate fans of the genre. “The Assassin” is a mood piece, evoking rather than explaining.
The filmmakers painstakingly evoke an era, filling the square-format screen with vibrantly hued clothing and furnishings. Although the ninth-century opulence alone is worth the price of admission, the director was likely not just thinking of the past. In its tenuous peace with the larger Chinese empire, the wayward province of Weibo suggests Hou’s own Taiwan.
