At the risk of presuming too much, perhaps Lee recognised how such a story could hide within it the pressure of human passion? A theme that streaks through all of Lee's films, it's the driving force of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Li Mu Bai (Chow Yun-Fat) and Yu Shu Lien (Michelle Yeoh) love each other but they've always been afraid to show it, to the extent that their lives contain no love at all. Jen Yu (Ziyi Zhang) and Lo (Chen Chang) love each other physically, mentally and totally; sadly she's lined up to marry a nobleman and he robs caravans in the desert. On top of these dynamics the film explores hatred, compassion, fear and understanding, all pushed-down yet visible despite such deception. A real melting pot.
Still, Lee's chosen cast members aren't exactly renowned for their ability to evoke subtle emotional detail. Instead Yun-Fat, Yeoh and the rest are more famous for their jaw-dropping martial arts abilities, and rightly so. In Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon the fight scenes are tremendously energetic, agile and impossibly fast. Specialist Yuen Woo-ping ensures that we get a melee of whirling blades, flailing kicks and close shaves, stunts that seem real because the actors know what they're doing. Only when they leave terra firma and head for the skies does the action come off like a bunch of people swinging on wires, a rather too-concrete rendition of something that should remain hazy. Yet, it's good to have a cast that knows what to do.
A consequence of this is that some episodes come across far more effectively than others do. In the desert Jen and Lo's vigorous courtship is a blast to watch, with them tussling and tumbling into love, free to be and find themselves. Their obvious and perfect complement is a joy to experience, it really buoys Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Yet, particularly in Beijing, other sections kind of drag, as if they're providing no more than a link between A and B without being necessary in their own right. Sometimes they allow you to peer beyond the action, to what it means to be a warrior, but not always. Maybe their mystically charged characters are simply not amenable to human analysis?
Despite this dramatic vacancy, Lee still manages to remind you of timeless themes, of master-student relationships, honour and betrayal, suppressed love and more. These are classic, pan-cultural brushstrokes, fantastic on a broad canvas; just think of Star Wars, Romeo and Juliet and Drunken Master 2 all spliced and diced as one. The script embodies a fair amount of folklore, making the result more fantasy than reality, and yet this makes some sense even if you're unaware of the Chinese background. You've still got to buy into Lee's mid-Pacific creation, neither Western nor Oriental, though and that's not always an easy task.
What really allows Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon to stand apart from contemporary kung fu flicks though are its high production values. Peter Pau's photography and Tim Squyres' editing ensure that the wide-shots are breathtaking and the action uncluttered. Their efforts are polished and involving, long-cuts during fight scenes to emphasise the technical artistry and close-ups during emotional moments. Backed by Yo-Yo Ma's delicate cello work, the combination is impressive enough to distract you from the subtitles. All in all, if you get caught up in Lee's tale, the flaws just won't matter; you'll feel as if transported on a heady and entertaining journey to an unfamiliar world. That's worth fighting for.