Yes Madam: Law and Order
“Officer Wu, emotion is hard to control!”
(to Sibelle Hu, “Drugs Area”)
While seeming, at first glance, to represent
the opposite side of the triad drama coin, HK police dramas also appear
to constitute several specific sub-categories. Some, drawing apparent
inspiration from the Hollywood “Police Academy” series, offer spoofs on
training and rookie assignments. In addition to pratfalls, these
typically also employ numerous traditional role-affirming devices, including
male supervisors or team rivals, general bumbling or incompetence, or more
directly sexist depictions of harassment and romantic involvement in the
workplace. The action is frequently played for laughs. Films
such as “The Inspector Wears Skirts I – IV” (1988 – 1992) reveal their
nature in their English language title. The four entries in the series
nevertheless feature some of the industry’s most popular action actors
and feature some genuinely striking moments. Where else can Sandra
Ng be seen wielding an RPG-7 while Kara Hui provides a spoof on Drunken
Fist as well as a serious demonstration of skill with nunchaku?
“Operation Pink Squad” (1988), an early police
action comedy, also pits an undercover team led by Sandra Ng and Ann Bridgewater
against the machinations of their male police supervisors who set them
up to fail. Veering unpredictably between action, drama and occasionally
remarkable vulgarity, it’s a strange mixture. Ng also appeared in
“They Came to Rob Hong Kong (1989), an action comedy that features some
worthwhile action sequences involving Chingmy Yau and Kara Hui.
“The Armed Policewoman” (1995) provides a slightly
different perspective. Rather than focusing on training academy sequences,
the film parades many the same stereotypes as the “Skirts” series as female
beat cops are armed. One of them (Carrie Ng) goes undercover posing
as the mini-skirted attorney for a triad leader who is the target of an
investigation. Although the action is occasionally well paced and
entertaining, the female protagonists (including Valerie Chow Kar-ling)
seem to solve their cases by luck or looks rather than basic police procedure.
To some extent, all these films might be partitioned according to the filmmaker’s
ultimate approach to how women’s roles are portrayed.
“Velvet Gloves” (1996) is another training academy
film – this time set in the Mainland – that is both devoid of humor and
portrays a relatively credible elite paramilitary team. There is
no confusion here about what the film seeks to portray. Duty is paramount,
and aspects of the film uncomfortably resemble some of the cinematic devices
employed in totalitarian propaganda. Both the opening sequence –
a series of full face shots of the female recruits individually presenting
their diverse backgrounds – and the closing sequence – a graduation march
past at full goose-step – bear resemblances. In between, Jade Leung
does a relatively credible job of presenting herself as a straight-as-an-arrow
super-soldier who is trying to fill the shoes of her brother who was killed
in action. Political themes stressing collectivism, order and duty
are conspicuous. The contrast between “Velvet Gloves” and the “Skirts”
films is striking.
Many of these “group” films suggest continuity
from the traditions of earlier action films that emphasized the visual
stimulation of costume, comedy and action above character or plot.
Accordingly, police “buddy” films appear to constitute a separate formula.
These have included some of the best HK actioners, teaming some of the
finest combinations of action talent. Sharon Yeung, a skilled Northern-style
wushu practitioner since childhood, starred in “Angel Enforcers” (1989),
with Kara Hui in “Angel Terminators” (1990), Moon Lee in “Princess Madam”
(1989) and Sibelle Hu in “Way of the Lady Boxers” (1992). In addition
to the martial arts skills of the female leads, several of these films
benefited from superb martial arts performances from male supporting actors
such as Dick Wei – who surely deserves special mention for enlivening so
many female action films – and Mark Houghton – who has carried the burden
of being a foreign “heavy.” Other female action actors provided memorable
villains – Ha Chi-chun as a cross-dressed crime boss (“Angel Enforcers”)
and the savagely sensual Michiko Nishiwaki (“Angel Terminators,” “Princess
Madam”). “Lady Super Cop” (1993) also cast Carina Lau as an action
lead in a police buddy drama, while Nadeki Fujimi and To Kwai-fa appeared
as partners in several Taiwanese police actioners (e.g., “Lady Killer,”
1992; “Wonderful Killer,” 1993). “Beauty Investigator” (1992) offered
a similar role for Moon Lee. “Cheetah on Fire” (1992) teamed Sharla
Cheung Man, Carrie Ng, Nadeki Fujimi and Donnie Yen Chi-tan in some of
their best action roles. One of the highest action quotas of any
film mentioned here culminates in a full-blown military engagement.
The Taiwanese film “Marked for Murder” (1994) also offers some good action
scenes.
Although breaking no new ground in terms of role
or character development, these films nevertheless satisfy by delivering
competent, strong performances and action sequences showcasing the genuine
physical skills of the actors. They essentially represent traditional
martial arts films with updated story lines. In these films relationships
may provide the fuel for vengeance motives, but the characters’ principal
loyalty is to their duty and their partner. This was effectively
lampooned by Carol Cheng in the action comedy “Once a Black Sheep” (1992)
that featured Cheng’s sharp comedy and wordplay, in addition to well choreographed
fight scenes.
A closely related, highly influential role was
the “tough cop” model – again a popular male formula. In D&B’s
“In The Line Of Duty” series formula elements involved extensive re-training
of the stars (both Michelle Yeoh and Cynthia Khan trained as dancers),
careful set-piece action choreography, and extensive support by stunt teams
and accomplished martial artists. Cynthia Rothrock – an accomplished
wushu stylist – helped launch the first in the series (“Yes, Madam”), while
numerous HK action actors such as Dick Wei, Michiko Nishiwaki, Donnie Yen
and Waise Lee provided additional talent. A successful formula combining
heroes and villains with a coherent plot and numerous well-staged action
scenes yielded numerous derivative titles (“Madam City Hunter,” 1993;
“The Tough Beauty and The Sloppy Slop,” 1995; “Yes Madam 5,” 1996) in which
Cynthia Khan honed a role that combined a roundhouse kick with almost Confucian
calm and designer jeans. As the sub-genre has played out in recent
low-budget Taiwanese or Mainland derivatives (e.g., “Tiger Angels,” 1997;
“Super Cops,” 1997) it appears to have run its course.
Cynthia Khan’s role in these films – and to some
extent Michelle Yeoh’s in the two previous titles of the series – seemed
to rest on reassuring tranquility and wholesomeness – perhaps as an antidote
to the violence inherent in the part. In many ways, the results were
relatively conventional, combining the appearance of asceticism traditionally
associated with martial arts with obedience to an invariably male supervisor
– affirming continuity with traditional social order. This can be
seen in clear relief in “Madam City Hunter” in which Kara Hui’s sensuality
in her relationship with Khan’s screen father – itself an excellent performance
– makes her suspect. Khan’s policewoman characters are invariably
demure and prim, reassuring in their neutrality.
Such characteristics probably contributed to Moon
Lee’s success also. Virtually synonymous with “undercover” police
dramas that would end in a frenzy of kung fu and gunplay, Lee’s trim athleticism
and “girl-next-door” screen persona propelled her into the league of top
female earners in the HK film industry by the early 90s, as well as garnering
an international fan base that outlasted her semi-retirement from filmmaking
that would shortly follow. Films such as “Angel 2,” “Angel 3,” “Killer
Angels,” “Devil Hunters,” “Mission of Condor,” “Angel Force,” “Beauty Investigators,”
“Secret Police,” “Mission of Justice” and “Angel’s Project” defined sub-genre
excess in which Lee’s pleasantly naïve character might endure “tomboy”
jibes but triumph against impossible odds with a streak of cinematic viciousness.
Lee’s screen martial skills were impressive, but impossibly proficient.
Good choreography was able to make the most of her dancing skills and physical
flexibility to produce spectacular performance art. When occasionally
paired with a vibrant emotional context, the results could rank among some
of the best the sub-genre could offer. These roles tended to typecast
Lee in ways that limited her acting potential since the principal focus
was on the action rather than character. As a result, such films
tend to provide exciting but ephemeral stimulation.
Other actors who proved they could carry physically
demanding leads in police action dramas included Joyce Godenzi (“She Shoots
Straight,” 1990), Sharon Kwok (“Red Fists,” 1992), Nadeki Fujimi (“Rock
on Fire,” 1994) and Sandra Ng (“Thunder Cops II,” 1989). The latter
film, in particular, also offers one of the most intense dramatic performances
of the entire genre. Although appearing in many such roles, Sibelle
Hu was typically more successful when cast in films opposite other action
actors, rather than in leading parts such as “Drugs Area” (1991), “Fighting
Fist” (1992) or “China Heat” (1993).
